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She inhaled the brew, then took a sip. "Mmmm. Decadent."
While he poured his coffee, she admired his lean physique in his low-slung sweat pants and no shirt. He was barefoot, too.
"Aren't your feet cold?"
He looked down at his feet. "Uh, no. I don't get cold. I'm used to working outside in the winter and it's plenty warm in here. Are you cold? I could turn the heat up."
She raised her knees. "I'm plenty warm." And heating up fast as she ogled him.
"Good. I made pancakes and eggs--scrambled--plus bacon and sausage and hash browns."
She arched a brow at the smorgasbord he presented her. "You lied last night. You can cook."
"I'm no master chef, but I do have to eat to survive, so there are a few things I know how to fix. What would you like?"
"Pancakes sound great. And bacon. I love bacon."
He grabbed a piece of bacon and held it in front of her lips. "Bite."
She took a taste. It was crispy. "Perfect," she said after she'd swallowed.
He took the next bite, then her. Sharing the meal together was intimate, and she had to admit, fun to eat in bed. Naked. Though she was the only one naked, a fact she was reminded of every time Brody glanced at her breasts. It made breakfast an interesting experience.
"Lots of syrup or only a little?" he asked after they polished off the bacon and eggs, which he'd also shared with her by feeding her.
"Lots."
He poured syrup on the pancakes, then scooped some onto the fork and slid it into her mouth.
"Oh, that's delicious."
"Thanks. It's my own recipe."
"Not a box mix?"
He looked horrified. "Bite your tongue. Pancakes are sacred."
She laughed, and when he hovered near her lips for the next bite, syrup dripped over her breasts.
She looked down. "Oops. Did you bring napkins?"
"Yeah, but I'll get that." He laid the fork on the plate and bent down to lick the drops of syrup from her breast, then ended by capturing her nipple between his lips and sucking.
She gasped, then held his head there while he tasted her. When he lifted his head, he said, "You taste much better than the pancakes."
He grabbed the bottle of syrup and poured another few drops over both breasts, letting some dip between the valley and over her nipples. Breakfast forgotten, Tori leaned back against the pillows and Brody dropped his sweats, his erection a much better appetizer than the bacon.
He climbed onto the bed and licked along the valley between her breasts, moved to one nipple, then the other, cleaning the trail of syrup he'd mapped. By the time she was clean, she was hot, and more than wet in another strategic area.
"Brody," she said, capturing his head between her hands. He moved up her body to kiss her, his lips and tongue sweet like the syrup.
He cupped her butt and shifted her sideways on the bed, laying her flat under him, grabbing a condom from the nightstand. She was throbbing and ready for him when he entered her. He rolled to his side and she lifted a leg over his hip, giving him deeper access as he thrust into her with quick, fierce movements that made her rake her nails down his back.
She was so close so fast, his syrup foreplay driving her to the brink in a maddening instant. And when she came, he went with her, his loud groan eclipsed by her shattering cries.
He rolled again, this time pulling her on top of him so he could stroke her back and butt. She loved his hands on her, loved the feel of his body underneath her.
She was afraid she was never going to get enough of Brody, that there would never be enough time to get him out of her system.
"I think we're stuck together," he finally said.
She lifted, and he was right. The syrup had made both their chests sticky. She laughed. "I guess a shower is in order."
She climbed off and he led her into the shower, where he showed her another trick or two about his lovemaking prowess. And to prove how utterly decadent she could be on a weekend with Brody, after that they climbed back into bed and made love again, then took a nap.
She decided as he played with her breast and she drifted off into a lazy slumber that she might live in this fantasy forever and never come back to reality.
Because in this fantasy, Brody belonged to her.
And she belonged to him.
Chapter Eight
Monday was an ugly reality, especially since Brody had to bring her to work.
Time had escaped her and she'd lost all track of it in Brody's arms and in his bed. He'd driven her to her apartment on Saturday so she could grab some fresh clothes. They'd hung out at his house all weekend watching movies, cooking, eating, playing video games, and mostly having the most amazing sex of her life. It was like the dam had burst and she'd let go of everything she'd held back all these years.
She'd never had more fun.
Until his alarm had gone off at five-thirty Monday morning.
What had she been thinking? Her car was still parked at Kent Construction's office. What if Wyatt or Ethan got there first? She should have had Brody take her back to her car Sunday night. Then she could have gone home and no one would ever know except the two of them.
Even worse, they'd spent the entire weekend so lost in each other, they hadn't once had a serious conversation about what this had meant, or what it would mean come Monday, when reality set in and they went back to working together.
Obviously, it meant nothing. It was a fantasy weekend, and now everything would go back to the way it had been before. But she'd been in such a sex-induced haze of pleasure and giddiness she'd forgotten to set ground rules, the first and most important being, Don't Tell Anyone In Deer Lake That We Slept Together.
Now she was in his truck and she was exhausted--though happily exhausted--and Brody wasn't saying anything and neither was she. Though he didn't seem tense or nervous as he casually drank his to-go cup of coffee. Apparently she was the only one about to implode.
"You sure you don't want me to drop you by your apartment for more clothes?" he asked as they drove down Central toward the office.
"No. I'm fine. I grabbed extra when you brought me by my place over the weekend."
He laid his coffee in the cup holder and took her hand. "I had a good time this weekend."
She tried not to look out the window, half expecting to see someone peering in at them. "I did, too."
"You want to stop somewhere for breakfast?"
Was he out of his mind? Someone might see them together and...assume things. "Oh, no. I'm good."
"How about I drive through Marjorie's for donuts, then? We can buy a bunch for the staff meeting."
He was acting so...normal. "Sure. That sounds great."
Maybe she could hop out and hide in the bed of the truck so no one noticed her.
He pulled into Marjorie's, her favorite coffee and donut store. They waited in line, since Monday mornings were Marjorie's busiest time.
It was early and the sun wasn't out yet, but she dragged on her sunglasses.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
She pulled her gaze away from other cars and looked at him. "I'm fine. Why?"
"You seem tense." Then he grinned at her. "I thought we worked all that tension out of you this weekend."
She smiled back at him. "I'm not tense. I'm just trying to get back into work mode."
"Okay."
It was their turn at the window. Marjorie was the worst gossip ever. This was going to be an epic disaster.
"Morning, Brody," Marjorie said, her raven-and-gray hair pulled back into a bun as usual. "Hey, Tori."
So much for the sunglasses as a disguise.
"Mornin', Marjorie," Brody said. "We'll take a dozen mixed." He turned to Tori. "You want a coffee?"
She'd need it to get through this day. "Yes. An extra large, please, Marjorie."
She waited for the winks, knowing looks, or the questions. Instead, Marjorie said, "Coming right up."
Nothing. She'd gotten nothi
ng at all. No sly looks, no questions, just the box of donuts and her coffee and then they were on their way.
Huh.
Which didn't mean Marjorie wouldn't be calling or texting everyone she knew about the fact she and Brody had been seen together in Brody's truck at six-thirty in the morning.
They pulled up to the office and she breathed a sigh of relief. Neither Ethan nor Wyatt had arrived yet. She nearly bolted out of the truck, her keys in one hand, coffee in the other, to open the front door.
"I'd have come around to open your side," Brody said as he met her at the door.
"Sorry. I, uh, need to pee."
"Oh. Okay. Go right ahead."
She didn't have to go, but she fled to the privacy of the ladies' room for a few minutes to catch her breath. Okay, so far so good. She checked her face in the mirror. It was flushed.
