Page 77 of The Irresistible Distraction

He pulls back a little and smiles at me.

God help me, but all I can do is smile back.

22

I’M KIND OF POURING OUT MY SOUL HERE

“Why can’t the makeup sex start after the shower?” I ask as Brody crowds me, the two of us already taking up too much space before we’ve made it to the combination shower/bathtub that’s seen better days.

He’s barely listening to me, focused as he is on unbuttoning my cardigan, pushing the straps of my tank top and bra down, his lips following his hands, licking at my skin the moment it’s exposed.

“It doesn’t have to start in the shower. But given my soon-to-be-packed work schedule, who knows when I’ll next get to start the sex in the shower.”

“I’m quite tired of that phrase.”

“Good thing I’m not.”

I can tell from his voice that he’s smiling, even as my entire body ignites. To Brody, anything can be a form of foreplay, not just the physical touching and licking that he clearly revels in, but the wordplay, the way we squabble and bicker, the push and pull of it all.

I reach forward and help him take off his shirt. It’s the first time I help him undress, another small step for us, and for me. I reach for the waist of his slacks next, my hands curling around his already semi-hard dick. “And you always tell me I’m responsive.”

I’m shocked that these words come out of my mouth, that I’m not blushing harder at the speed at which Brody and I are undressing each other, my skirt and underwear piling on the floor even as I squeeze, gently, around the evidence of his arousal.

Brody loses his breath for just a second before his broad smile returns and he leans down to capture my lips. “With you? I’m the sure thing.”

I tighten my grip experimentally. Always before, I was so wrapped up in everything Brody was doing to my body, I never stopped to consider the power I might have over him. I move a little, down an inch and up again, and Brody closes his eyes, squeezing them shut as if he’s in pain. He takes my hand away and pushes me toward the bathtub, roughly shoving the shower curtain aside.

“Careful,” I tease, loving the feeling that (for once) he’s the one who’s less in control. “Soon you’re going to be too poor to buy me a new bathroom.”

He smiles against my mouth and pins me to the wall, his fingers interlacing with mine as he lifts my arms up and over my head, his hips thrusting lightly, teasingly against me.

“There’s supposed to be water, right?” I ask when he lets me up for air.

He laughs, his breath a little shaky, and though we turn the head of the shower away from us, there is no escaping how frigid the water is.

“Motherfucker.” Brody’s voice is loud and comically frustrated, echoing in the small space. He returns to kiss me, muttering something about how he’s going to have to work harder now to counteract the water. A minute passes, where we kiss through the shivering before Brody asks, “How long does it take, usually?”

“Up to three minutes, sometimes five during the winter.”

“I’m buying us one of those perpetual water heaters, the tankless ones.”

“You’re poor starting on Wednesday, remember?”

“Then I’ll shop before.” His voice is half groan as the water finally starts to warm, and he’s kissing me in earnest again, making it impossible to continue rational discourse.

I fight against my pinned wrists, and instead of just letting him direct everything, I force him to allow me free rein, my hands teasing as they travel down his unreal abs, the tattoos that are starting to feel familiar, the hard panes of his back, and down again, to the erection that’s straining against me.

My hand wraps around him and I lick my lips. “I’m not very good at⁠—”

He kisses me silent, his normal way of ending an argument where he thinks I’m being unreasonable, as opposed to when he simply thinks I’m wrong and he can convince me. “You’re wonderful. I’ll love anything you want to try.”

“Then I’d like to,” I say, my voice a thready whisper. I kneel in front of him, shifting our positions so that the water is running down his back. My touch is hesitant as I dart my tongue to the tip of his erection.

But Brody’s groan is hoarse and immediate, shockingly loud. Emboldened, I lick him again, flattening my tongue and applying a little more pressure this time, moving up and down slowly. He curses, both hands coming to my head, his grip a tad too tight, before he removes them, placing one on the wall next to me, his head bowed, breathing already labored. I lean forward and circle my lips around the tip of his cock, sliding my mouth down to see how much I can fit. He half bucks into my mouth, and it’s surprising. I don’t let go, sucking harder, my hands reaching out to cup his balls gently, in a purely exploratory fashion. Brody, in response, grips the shower curtain and rips it partially off the rails.

“I take it back,” he mutters, pulling me up to a standing position. “I’m going to embarrass myself if you keep that up.” One of his hands comes to me, parting me quickly before one finger slides in, frictionless because I’m already so wet. “We’re going to have to fuck at least once, maybe twice, before I let you try that again.”

I huff out a laugh. “What if I’m not done calling the shots?”