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“And?”
“We’re past flattery, Hotshot.” She forces her smile wider at the endearment, using it to insert humor into her statement. “You’re in my panties already.”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
“It’s the truth. You don’t need to sweet talk me so you can fuck me.”
Whoa! There’s still shampoo in her hair and she’s trying to get out of the shower to avoid whatever is bothering her about the fact that I like her. But I’m not that person that shrugs shit like this off. I’ve got too many regrets and too many things left unsaid with people I care about already to let this go.
“I don’t sweet talk, Rosie,” I tell her pointedly, wrapping my arms around her and turning us both so that she can’t leave.
“What are you doing?”
I ignore her question. “If I want to fuck, I don’t need to sweet talk. Trust me, I’ve been a pro at that shit for too long. I’m not flattering you because I want to get in your panties.”
“Brody don—”
“I want to fuck you, Rosie. I want to fuck you all the damn fucking time. Hell, I want to fuck you in ways that you’re too coy to even think of, and sweetheart, trust me when I tell you that I will do it. I will fuck your mouth until you can’t breathe and I will fuck your ass so damn hard you won’t be able to walk straight. All of that is independent of the fact that I think you are beautiful.”
“You need to stop,” she whispers, staring at my chest as though she can’t bear to look at me.
“Why?”
“Because…”
The shrug she offers me is exasperating, making me want to shake her until all the shit that’s cluttering in her head falls out. Instead, I wrestle myself into a position where I can cup her face in my hands and tilt it up to mine.
“I asked you why?”
“Because!”
“That’s not an answer!”
“Because you’re you and I’m me,” she growls back at me, her arms trying to push mine away.
“That’s not an answer either, Rosie.”
I’m me and she’s her, and it’s why we’re here. Why I can’t get her out of my head. The reason I can’t shake her off. I can’t get enough of her because of who she is and the way she makes me feel. There’s no way it’s one-sided because I feel it in her every time she looks at me.
“That’s not a fucking reason, so try again. Why do I need to stop?”
“You’re making this into something it’s not.” Her hands trail down my chest to my stomach with a sigh. “You’re leaving in three days.”
“I have three races and then a break. That’s three weeks and I’ll come back.”
“Your sister has lived here for four years and—”
“I’ll come back.”
“Brody, you…I…”
“I’m coming back.” It’s a promise, and she knows it.
“Be serious…real. You’re not a small-town person. This isn’t where you want to be for the long haul. It’s not your home.” Tears fill her eyes even as she tries to swallow down her sob. “I’m not going down that road again.”
“What road?”
“I’ve done this before, and I was left high and dry.”
