Ellen was smiling so eagerly. “At the beginning!”
Lilah looked at her and hesitated. Clearly, she was willing to go head-to-head with Brady in a battle of wills, but she wasn’t so willing to be rude or cruel. But she must have gotten over that because she said, “We met at the beauty salon in town.”
Brady had been smiling, feeling pretty damn pleased with himself for one-upping her-until this.
“Yeah,” Lilah went on, clearly gaining steam. “Brady was at his weekly grooming session.” She leaned into Ellen as if departing with a state secret and continued in a stage whisper, “He’s very hairy, you see.”
Brady choked on his peas.
“Wax or laser?” Ellen whispered. “My son-in-law swears by his monthly male Brazilian.”
“Brady, too,” Lilah said, patting a still coughing Brady on the back. “You okay, baby?” She smiled sweetly at him and began shoveling her food in as if she hadn’t eaten in a week. “Oh, Mrs. Johnson, this is all so delicious!”
Brady finally recovered. “Lilah cooks, too, Ellen. Actually, she’s an incredible baker. She makes the most amazing desserts.”
Now it was Lilah’s turn to go pale. The only thing she baked was store-bought cookie dough.
“Oh, that’s lovely!” Ellen exclaimed.
“And you should see her on the fly,” Brady said. “That’s her specialty-improvising.”
Lilah narrowed her eyes at him but before she could respond, Ellen spoke again. “Oh, that is a talent. Maybe you can demonstrate,” she said hopefully. “I have just about everything you could need for any recipe.”
Lilah sent Brady a look of sheer, undulated panic, followed by a look that promised her own payback.
That was okay. After the male Brazilian thing, he was pretty sure he could take whatever she dealt out. Smiling, he leaned back and shot her his best your turn look, which she returned with a you-are-so-going-down volley.
Fine by him. He’d go down with her any day. With her, on her… however and wherever she wanted.
Seventeen
A little while later, Lilah escaped to the Johnsons’ very small, slightly fussy bathroom at the end of the hallway and stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were bright, and there were two spots of color on her cheeks. She looked under the influence.
And she was.
She was under the influence of lust. Damn Brady for baiting her, for making her feel…
Alive. The man made her feel so alive.
She was still staring at herself when the door opened. A big, warm, built body nudged her over, making room so he could squeeze in behind her.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
Brady gave her a look that made her nipples pebble up against her shirt as he reached out and hit the lock.
Click.
It echoed over the pounding of her heart. Staring at him in the mirror, she shook her head. “Brady-”
“Lilah,” he said calmly. Stepping closer, he forced her up against the sink. His hands gripped the tile at either side of her hips, trapping her in. “A male Brazilian?” His voice was that deep half growl she’d heard only when they were naked and he was whispering erotic, explicit promises in her ear, the ones that never failed to make her blush.
“Well, hey, for all I know you really do wax.”
He pressed himself against her butt. He was hard.
“Oh no,” she whispered on a laugh even as she rocked back against him, causing him to hiss in a breath. She stopped breathing entirely and went damp. “We can’t.”
Seeing right through her, he smiled into the mirror, slow and extremely badass.
Oh no. No, she wasn’t going to melt just because he was giving her that look. “You have to go,” she whispered, attempting to elbow him away. “Shoo.”
He made a sound that might have been a snort of laughter. “Can’t.”
“Why not?”
He grabbed her hand and brought it behind her to cup over his crotch.
“Oh my God.” But her fingers stroked him. Bad fingers.
Brushing her hair out of the way, he leaned down to nibble on her neck. “Can’t help it,” he murmured against her skin. “You have this effect on me.”
Her eyes drifted shut, and a horrifyingly needy, hungry little whimper escaped her, loud enough that she lifted her own hands and clamped them over her mouth.
“Mmm,” he barely breathed against her ear. “Love that sound.” His hands slid from her hips upward, beneath her top.
“What are you doing now?”
“If you don’t know, I’m doing it wrong.”
Oh, she knew. And the truth was, she’d do whatever he wanted and they both knew it. Ever since he’d come to town with those sharp, assessing eyes and hard-but-oh-so-giving mouth and all that testosterone, her body had been a complete traitor. His tongue rimmed her ear and she had to lock her knees to remain upright. “Oh God.”
“Give me a minute and you’ll be saying ‘Oh, Brady.’” He ran his fingers lightly down her arms and then encircled her wrists, setting them on the counter’s edge, indicating she should keep them there. She wriggled back against him, grinding her bottom into his erection. “Hold still,” he commanded softly in her ear.
She shivered and it was entirely possible she had a mini-orgasm. If he hadn’t been pinning her between the hard sink and his even harder body, she’d have slithered bonelessly to the floor.
Then his hands slid beneath her shirt and ran up her rib cage, stopping just short of her breasts.
She held her breath but couldn’t quite keep quiet. “Touch me!”
He pushed her shirt up and the cups of her bra down and, watching her reaction closely in the mirror, palmed her breasts. Then one of his very talented hands slid slowly down her belly and into her pants. “Oh Jesus.” His breath was hot against her ear. “You’re ready for me.”
She’d been ready for him since she’d first laid eyes on him, and she didn’t see that changing anytime soon.
His hands went to her hips and before she could draw her next breath, he’d shoved her jeans to her thighs, groaning softly in her ear at the sight of the baby blue thong he’d bought her. There was something incredibly thrilling about being so exposed while he was fully dressed behind her, watching himself touch her in the mirror.
“I-” She gasped when he gave one quick yank and ripped the underwear off her.
“I’ll buy you more. Hell, I’ll buy you an entire Victoria’s Secret store,” he promised, his voice a rough, barely there growl as he slid his hand between her thighs. “I can’t get enough of you, I can’t.”
She met his gaze. His eyes were no longer playful but dark and filled with a dangerous emotion. Dangerous, because now it wasn’t just her good parts aching. No, the nameless ache spread and hit her heart with deadly precision. Turning in his arms, she twisted her hands into his shirt, and then their mouths connected, hot and demanding. His tongue touched hers at the same moment his fingers slid home. Her toes began to curl, but he slowly withdrew, making her whimper.
“Later,” he murmured, but continued to hold her close.
Panting, Lilah dropped her head to Brady’s chest. “I hate later.” After a minute, she pulled her clothes back into place. Without panties. God. She slumped back against Brady. Beneath her cheek, his heart was thumping steadily. Definitely faster than his usual near-hibernation beat. Lifting her head, she flashed him a tight smile. “I get to you.”
“Are you kidding? You own me,” he said, his voice running over her like silk.
And with that startlingly revealing statement, he unlocked the door and slipped out, leaving her leaning against the sink, heart still pounding, nipples hard enough to cut glass.
“What are you doing?” Brady demanded an hour later when they were finally back on the road heading home.