Page 14

T HE HOUSE WAS painted a bluish gray with immaculate white trim. The older architecture was dwarfed by the large homes surrounding it, but Emily loved the old-fashioned overgrown gardens and the stone path from the sidewalk. Several steps led down the walk to the front door. The front porch needed a glider. If she lived here she’d pick some of the wild roses that grew over the railing.

“Home sweet home,” Brandon said with a grin. “Nordquist’s allegedly in Hawaii with his girlfriend for a few days, so we have the place to ourselves.”

“Who’s Nordquist?” Emily took a deep breath of wild rose-scented air.

“You’ve met Greg. He’s on the practice squad. He lives in the basement when he’s in town.”

The front door of Brandon’s house was inset with leaded glass: an old-fashioned, intricate design. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but it didn’t look like him. He opened the front door, and ushered her into the cool dimness of an entry hall with wide plank flooring. She set her handbag down on a large maple storage bench with hooks for coats.

“How about a drink?” Brandon called as he went into the kitchen, which was to the right of the front door.

She followed him. A maple kitchen table and cream-painted chairs sat in front of a sunny bay window. The cabinets matched the table and chairs. The countertops were neutral granite. Another window over the kitchen sink offered a view of the postage stamp-sized front yard. The appliances were stainless steel, and appeared new. There were even sunflowers in a sage-colored pottery vase on the kitchen table.

He opened the refrigerator door. “I’ve got Coke, bottled water, beer, juice, and sweet tea. I can also make some coffee, if you’d like.”

“I’ll take a Coke.”

“No ice,” he mumbled to himself. He’d seen her order enough drinks without ice to know she stayed away from it.

Emily wandered over to a bulletin board hanging above a maple-and-cream writing desk. Even a bachelor needed somewhere to put the grocery list, the team schedule, and the folder of bills to be paid. The rest of the board was covered with snapshots of what she imagined were family and friends at various vacation spots. She noticed a photo of Brandon with a dark-haired guy about the same age and with the same eyes and facial structure, along with an older couple. They were standing on what appeared to be the same deck she saw through the arched entry into the dining room.

“Are these your parents?”

He glanced over. “Yeah. It was taken a few months ago.”

Brandon had his mom’s blonde curls and her eyes, but the rest of him was his father. The four of them had their arms around each other, with his petite mom standing in the protective embrace of her husband. Brandon and his dad were laughing. Dylan kissed his mother’s cheek. She was beaming.

“Your mom is tiny.” Her head barely came up to Brandon’s dad’s shoulder.

“Imagine how much fun it was for her to have two ten-pound sons, eleven months apart.”

Emily did her best not to flinch in sympathy.

Brandon handed her the drink. He poured himself some iced tea. “Let’s go out on the deck for a minute.”

Besides wondering if Brandon had stock in some type of maple furniture factory, Emily had a better idea why he bought the house. It was bigger than it looked from the street. The view from his dining and living room was breathtaking. The rooms overlooked Lake Washington, stretching all the way to the 520 floating bridge and the Space Needle and Columbia Center over the hill on the opposite side.

“This must be great in the summertime,” she said as they passed through the French doors onto his deck.

“It’s great even when it’s freezing out here. I love the view.”

Emily enjoyed watching the boats move across the water until the breeze kicked up. She shivered.

“You’re chilly, sugar,” Brandon said. “Let’s go back inside. Plus, you haven’t had the grand tour yet.” He took her elbow.

“I thought we were going to Damian’s for dinner.”

“There’s time. Come on.”

The dining room featured an expandable maple table and hardwood chairs with padding in a hunter green fabric. “I don’t eat in here unless my mama makes dinner for everyone,” he explained. “She kept telling me, though, that I needed a nice table and chairs, so I bought them.”

They moved into the living room, which had overstuffed furniture in dark green patterned upholstery. A heavy-looking wood-and-glass coffee table sat in front of a gas fireplace. More framed family photos leaned against the opposite wall. A folk-art painting of what looked like Tuscany leaned against the wall over the mantelpiece. It all looked comfortable, but there was an air of the unfinished. Brandon either didn’t spend a lot of time at home, or he wasn’t big on hanging pictures.

“I love that,” Emily said. She nodded at the painting.

“I was told I needed something bright for when it’s gray outside.”

He led her down the hallway to a door he opened with a flourish. “This is my room.”

This, too, was nothing like she had expected. The king size bed was of more maple, a simple design with a Mission-style headboard and no footboard. She imagined his feet hanging over this bed the way they hung over the edge of hers. The sheets and pillowcases were navy blue. The whole thing was covered with a quilt in varying prints, but predominantly in shades of blue. Another quilt was folded lengthwise and spread across the foot of the bed.

It looked cozy and comfortable. Emily resisted the impulse to crawl inside.

The nightstand had a stack of books, a cordless telephone in a base, and a clock radio. Her roaming gaze caught a professionally framed photo of Brandon on the wall. He stood in what appeared to be an end zone, his arms over his head, holding a football.

She pointed at it. “You have the ball.”

“I picked off Denver’s quarterback on a tip drill and ran it into the end zone last year.”

“Good job, bruiser. That’s a touchdown, right?” He grinned at her as he nodded. “It’s nice in here,” she said.

“There’s nothing pink or ruffly,” he said.

“I could fix that for you.” Emily touched the quilt at the foot of his bed. “This is gorgeous.”

“My grandma McKenna made it for me.” He indicated an open door on the other side of his room. “I had a jetted tub put in the bathroom last year.”

The upstairs of Brandon’s house boasted two large skylights and the steepest staircase she’d ever encountered.

“I sleep up here when my parents come to town. It’s easier for me to get up and down the stairs than it is for them. Dylan stays here, too.”

There was more of the simple overstuffed furniture Brandon seemed to like, along with a window seat that showed off the gorgeous lake view. Emily spied an office and another half bath at the other side of what must have been a former attic.

Emily heard a faint “Meow,” and a very large brown tabby cat jumped off the window seat to wind around Brandon’s ankles.

“Hey, buddy.” He reached down and gave the cat a pat on the head. “Decided you’d wake up and join us. This is Deacon,” he explained. “He’s part of the reason Greg hangs around here. When I’m on the road, I don’t worry that he’s going to starve or run away.”

“Interesting name for a cat.”

“His name is really Deacon White, but we call him Deacon for short. Deacon White was the best defensive end to ever play the game, sugar.”

Emily tapped one finger on her chin. “So, he played the same position you do.”

“You get a gold star for that football knowledge. I’m proud of you.” He leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose. She reached out for his hand, while inching her other hand toward the cat.

“Maybe he’ll let me pet him.”

“You might want to rethink that. He’s ferocious.” Nothing could have been further from the truth. Deacon stood on his hind legs and pawed at her. He wanted to be picked up.

“I want to have a pet, but I’m gone so much, it would never work,” she said. Deacon cuddled against her, and with a soft “Mew” he laid his head on Emily’s cheek.

“Hey, Deacon, back off. Get your own woman.”

“Does he sleep in your room?”

“Of course not,” he smirked. Emily remembered the plush cat bed in one corner of Brandon’s bedroom.

Deacon rubbed his face against Emily’s.

“I get a woman in my house, and the first thing she does is go for the cat,” Brandon said.

Emily set the cat down on the floor, and Deacon regarded her with an injured expression in his amber eyes. “I know. I’ll be back another time,” she told him. She glanced up at his owner. “We probably need to leave for Damian’s.” They descended the stairs, and she picked up her handbag. “Maybe I should drive.”

“We don’t need the car.”

“He must be close,” Emily said as they walked outside.

“You could say that. He’s right across the street.”

Emily glanced up, spotting Damian standing on a deck that overlooked Brandon’s house.

“Hey, dawg,” Damian shouted. “Get your ass over here or the steak’s going to burn. Hey, pretty lady.”

Emily waved at him in response.

He continued talking as they made their way across the street. “I got some tickets to go see you in that—what the hell is it—Der, die, something.”

“Die Fledermaus,” she explained. “You’re going to Cincinnati? That’s wonderful.” Emily clapped her hands.

Damian pulled the front door open as Emily and Brandon reached the doorstep and threw his arms around her. “There she is.”

She hugged him back. “It’s good to see you, too. I can’t believe you’ll be at the performances in Cincinnati!”

“It’s really hard to get tickets to see you perform around here now,” Damian complained.

“I’m not singing here till later in the season, but I could get you some tickets to one of Seattle Opera’s upcoming performances. It’s not Die Fledermaus , but you might like it.”

“I want to go if you’re singing,” Damian assured her.

“I’m standing here. Stop trying to pick up on my fiancée,” Brandon told him.

“He sounds jealous,” she murmured to Damian.

“Damn straight, love.” Damian did an elaborate handshake with Brandon. He turned to Emily again, and slid his arm around her shoulders. “Maybe you should go out with me instead. I’ll hook you up. Cornerbacks and safeties are the real men of any football team. He must have told you this.”

“He’s getting mad,” Emily said.

“He knows I speak the truth, baby.”

Brandon rolled his eyes. “I hope you invited the young lady you were flirting with yesterday at lunch,” he said.

“Of course I did. She should be here soon. In the meantime I have to chat with my pretty lady. Listen, girl, I bought some of those opera beats you told me about. They’re sick.”

Brandon took Emily’s hand, tugged her over to the couch, and pulled her onto his lap. Damian laughed, and went out onto the deck to check the food on the grill.

Emily looped one arm around his neck. “Should I ask him if I can help with anything?”

“No.”

Damian’s house made Brandon’s look tiny. The front door led into a soaring entryway with a large crystal chandelier. The living room was up a flight of stairs, and opened onto the deck, which had the same view Brandon’s did. Damian’s living room appeared big enough to park a Humvee in. The décor was formal, and appeared to be done by a professional. It was beautiful, but Emily preferred the simplicity and coziness of Brandon’s house.

Two men and two women in server garb emerged from the kitchen with trays of food, arranging the platters on a long table set up against the far wall. One of the women approached Brandon and Emily for a drink order.

“Hey, Damian,” Brandon called out. “You said this was just us.”

“Gotta’ feed everyone.”

“He caters a backyard barbecue,” Brandon muttered. “Now everyone will expect me to do it, too.”

“What does he mean by ‘everyone’?” she said into Brandon’s ear.

“Let’s find out. Drake,” Brandon called out, “How many is ‘everyone’?”

“Dawg, everyone.”

Brandon let out a groan. “He invited the team, along with whoever it is they’re married to or going out with. You’ll probably see an awful lot of single women.”

“You probably have parties as well.”

“Mine are smaller,” Brandon said. “Plus, the police don’t typically make an appearance.”

Two hours later, Damian’s house was so crowded that it was impossible to move across the room. Emily gave up counting the people she saw after a hundred. Brandon introduced her to his teammates and others he knew, but it was overwhelming. They couldn’t get near the food. The alcohol was flowing, though, and they both had a few drinks. Emily decided to visit the bathroom, and came back a few minutes later to find Brandon missing.

Brandon was completely at home here. She wasn’t. She had a much better idea how he must have felt at the opera benefit, especially when she noticed two women on Damian’s deck staging an impromptu Shark Babes tryout. They wore nothing but thongs with Sharks logos on them. She liked to have fun, but she preferred something quieter with the possibility for conversation.

Emily needed some fresh air. Mostly, she wanted to get away from crowds of people and the blasting sound system. Maybe Brandon had wandered outside, too. She found herself in the backyard; it was a beautiful June evening. As she rounded the side of the house, she saw Brandon on one knee next to a little dark-haired boy. She heard sobs. Brandon laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. She stepped behind a lilac bush, not wanting to startle the little boy more.

“I might not find him,” the boy said. “He’ll be hungry. He doesn’t know where his mom is.”

“Another mama frog will help him, buddy.”

“All I did was let him out of the ’tainer for a few minutes. He must be in the grass.”

“They’re pretty good at hiding.”

“They can hop pretty fast, too.” Emily heard the boy hiccup, another little-boy sob, and he rubbed his eyes with what looked like grimy fists. Brandon patted him on the back.

“Simon, your mama and dad are going to wonder where you went. I’m going to take you back to your house, and I’ll keep looking for Froggy.”

“My mom and dad went out to dinner. Madison’s babysitting me.”

“I’ll bet she’s scared, too, because she doesn’t know where you are. We’ll take you home, and I’ll find your frog. I’ll make sure he gets back to you.”

“But he doesn’t know you.”

“That’s true. He might come to me, though, because he’ll know I want to bring him back. I think it’ll work.”

Simon let out a long sigh. “Maybe.” He glanced up into Brandon’s face. “Do you know how to take care of frogs?”

Emily heard Brandon’s low chuckle. “My brother and I spent a lot of time catching frogs when I was your age.” Emily saw him looking under the plants in the garden as he spoke. He appeared to be searching for the frog. “We used to bring snakes in the house and put them in the clean laundry basket. My mama screamed.”

“You caught a snake! Did they bite?”

“Aww, not these ones. We weren’t supposed to be in the swamp, but we went there anyway. You probably do some stuff you’re not supposed to do, too.”

“I snuck out of the house,” Simon informed him proudly.

“Let’s make a deal.” Brandon patted him on the back, and waited till Simon looked into his eyes again. “It’s really fun to do stuff you’re not supposed to, but sometimes it’s not a great idea. I know you came over because you wanted to talk to Damian. You need to tell an adult where you’re going. It’s not safe for you to be out here in the dark by yourself.” Brandon was still looking around the plants in the garden, but he turned back to ruffle Simon’s hair. “If you’ll agree to do this, we can look for some frogs. Or, we can play catch.”

Simon thought for a moment. He shifted his weight onto one foot, then the other.

“Can you play football with me?”

Emily heard Brandon’s laugh. “Sure. I’ll play football with you. Maybe Damian will want to play, too.”

“Yeah!” Simon punched the air with a small fist. “That’ll be fun.”

“Let’s get you back home, then. My fiancée’s probably wondering where I am.”

“What’s a fiancée?”

Brandon got to his feet and took Simon’s hand. “That means we’re getting married.”

“Oh.” Simon thought about this for a moment. “Is she pretty?”

“She is. She’s nice, too. I bet you’d like her.”

“I like girls who like frogs.”

“I don’t know. We’ll have to ask her.” Brandon and Simon moved off toward the sidewalk in front of Damian’s house. Maybe it was best if Brandon showed up at the neighbor’s house with her, too. It was time for Emily to make an appearance.

“Hey, guys,” Emily said, as casually as possible.

“There she is.” Brandon held out his other hand. “Sugar, this is Simon. We’re looking for his lost frog. Simon, this is Miss Emily.”

Emily shook Simon’s hand. He gave her a gap-toothed grin and her heart melted. The three of them walked down the sidewalk. “Sugar, do you like frogs?” Simon said.

There was laughter in Brandon’s voice. “You’re flirting with my girl.”

Simon looked up at her expectantly.

“Well, I haven’t seen that many frogs in my life. Maybe you could show me one,” Emily told him.

“If Brandon finds my frog, you can play with him.”

“I’ll do my best, buddy.” Brandon was leading them up the walk to another impressive home a few houses down from Damian’s. “Let me do the talking,” he told Simon.

B RANDON SHOOK HIS head and glanced back at Simon’s house with a fond smile.

“I looked all over Drake’s backyard. He’ll be disappointed if I don’t find another one.” Brandon unlocked the front door of his house, tugging Emily inside. “Let’s get a jar or something, and we’re set.” He pulled open the refrigerator door in his kitchen, dumped the contents of a jar of pickles into the sink, rinsed it, and jabbed several holes in the lid with a fork. “C’mon,” he said as he stuck his keys into his pocket. “I’ll bet you’ve never had a guy take you to a swamp before.”

“You’re really doing this,” she said. He reached into a kitchen drawer for a flashlight.

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”

“I haven’t had a drink in two hours now. I also wouldn’t get behind the wheel if I wasn’t.” He reached out for her hand again. “Ready to go?”

Brandon parked his Land Rover a short distance from a swamp a couple of miles from his house. He handed her the flashlight.

“This is how it’s going to go. Tilt this up so I can see, but not so much that it scares them off.”

“Aren’t there frogs at the pet store?”

“Naww. This’ll be easy.” He kissed her forehead. “You stay up here, or you’re going to get really dirty.”

Emily watched him move away from her. The sky was brilliant with stars. The silence was broken by tall grass brushed by a soft breeze and what must have been a huge bullfrog looking for his girlfriend. Brandon was rustling around. She heard a plop , a muttered, “Shi— Shoot,” and Brandon spoke up. “Hey, sugar, tilt that flashlight in this direction.”

She turned the flashlight toward his voice and let out a gasp. “What happened to you?”

“It’s a little mud. Nothing to worry about.” He crouched down at the shoreline, looking intently into the water. “They’re here. Just gotta get one. You should see how many tadpoles there are.” He dipped his jar into the pond. “The frog’ll think he’s right at home.”

Emily inched her way down the bank. The tall grass brushed her calves as she moved along. It wasn’t muddy up here at all. As long as she stayed away from the swamp, everything was fine. Lost in thought, she walked along, eyes focused on him.

Brandon had left a party most fun-loving adult males would give an appendage to attend to help a little boy find his frog. He made it clear that he’d enjoy spending more time with that little boy. There were no cameras, no press, nobody that would see him and think he was a great guy. She now knew what it was about him she couldn’t resist, besides the way he looked.

This was who he was, instead of what he thought people wanted him to be. He wasn’t the shallow, stereotypical NFL star. Despite the show he put on for everyone else, she’d seen his gooey marshmallow center.

The things that meant the most to him were not found on a football field: his family, his friends. He didn’t care about the party his teammates were still at. He spent an hour wandering around in the mud to make a little boy happy. Suddenly, she was breathless.

Most of all, she wanted to be the person that made Brandon happy.

She skidded on a previously invisible patch of mud. Both feet slid out from under her, and she sat down hard.

“Ow!”

It didn’t really hurt. Her pride was dented, though. The flashlight flew into a nearby tuft of grass. She felt the cold, squishy, wet ground seeping through her cotton pants. The hands she tried to brace herself with were covered in mud, too. She shook off as much muck as possible. She hated getting dirty. She wasn’t a big fan of wardrobe destruction, either.

Brandon hurried toward her. “You okay, sugar?”

“I’m fine. I feel a little stupid.” She reached out for the flashlight.

“I got it,” he told her, and he pulled her onto her feet. She saw his smile in the darkness. “I got you, too. You’re going to need a shower.” He walked her a few steps over to a dry patch of grass, and put the now-filthy flashlight back into her hand. “You’re sure you didn’t hurt yourself?”

“Of course not.”

He strode down the bank, approached the water’s edge, and dipped the jar into the water. She heard his triumphant, “Gotcha.”

He showed her the glass jar, which held an inch or so of dirty pond water, a rock, and a small green frog. “Let’s go home.”

She wasn’t the only one who needed a long, hot shower. Brandon was covered in mud from the waist down. His hands were filthy; he had mud in his hair. He was ecstatic.

“I haven’t had this much fun since college,” he told her. He glanced at his (evidently waterproof) watch. “His parents will be back by now. We’ll drop it off.”

Brandon stripped off his muddy jeans, shoes, and socks, tossing them into the backseat. She was horrified to note her beautiful ring had mud caked in it, too. When he saw her wiping her hands on the grass to clean them off a bit, he took off his t-shirt and handed it to her. “Use this.”

“So gross,” she muttered.

He fixed her with a flirtatious grin and said, “All that nasty mud must be really uncomfortable for you. Maybe you should take your pants off, too.”

She let out a gasp. “I don’t think so.”

“It’s important that you’re comfy,” he assured her, and she burst into laughter. He threw himself behind the wheel in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. He was a mess, and he was still gorgeous. He handed her the jar. “Take care of him, sugar.”

“Do you often drive half-naked?”

“Nobody’s going to see,” he said. They were driving on a heavily traveled street in a highly populated area. Maybe Brandon thought they were invisible.

A few minutes after Emily dropped the frog in his jar off on Simon’s front porch, they pulled up in front of Brandon’s house. She kicked off her muddy shoes and left them under the bench in the hallway. Brandon tugged her down the hallway to his room.

“I need to find something I can wear home. My pants—” she tried to tell him.

He pulled her into his arms. “Right now, getting cleaned up is Job One.” His voice dropped. “There’s plenty of room in the shower for both of us.”

“Your car needs a bath, too.”

“I’m not so worried about that at the moment.”

He shut the bedroom door behind them and made no move to flip on a light. The dimness wrapped around them like a blanket, dense and soft. She played in his chest hair. She laid her cheek against his scratchier one as she closed her eyes and clasped her arms around his waist. Her clothes were trashed, she smelled like a swamp, and he didn’t seem to care. He drew her closer.

He started slowly—the slightest brush of his lips on hers. His mouth was warm and tender on hers. He did it again. She slid one hand into his hair, tangling her fingertips in his curls. He kissed the corners of her mouth. His stubble scraped her, and she let out a moan. She stood on her tiptoes, and sealed her mouth over his.

Brandon kissed her till she was breathless, till her knees threatened to buckle, till she fumbled at the button and zipper of her pants. He moved her hands away, and took over.

Desire surged through her, an unstoppable force. At that moment, it didn’t matter to her that he’d gotten busy with innumerable women before, or that she was about to get smashed like a bug on the windshield of Brandon’s love life.

They were still engaged. They were dating. Hell, they had a wedding date. They kissed—a lot. They touched each other. Things would get hot and heavy between them, and then, one or both of them would run away. Maybe he was waiting for her. It was possible.

She’d tasted his kisses and felt his arms around her when he was hundreds of miles away. She’d heard his quiet voice in her ear when she couldn’t sleep, and lay wondering if he was thinking about her, too. His scent was imprinted on her memory: Clean skin, and a hint of his aftershave. She saw his smile even when he was nowhere around, and she saw a dimple she could lose her car keys in when he laughed. She felt safe with him.

Tonight, right now, she wasn’t running away. She wanted him. She knew he wanted her. His voice dropped to a murmur.

“You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?”

He pushed her pants down. She stepped on the toes of her trouser socks, attempting to pull them off.

“There might be monsters under your bed.”

He nibbled at the base of her neck. “I’ll make sure they’re all gone,” he said.

He stepped on the bunched-up clothing at her ankles, pulled her out of the tangled pants and socks, and led her into his bathroom.

She tugged her sweater off over her head and dropped it onto the bathroom floor. She tried to wrestle the clasp of her bra around to her front to unhook it. Damn thing. She wasn’t letting a lingerie salesperson talk her out of those front clasp bras again.

She felt Brandon’s big hands over hers, brushing skin ultra-sensitive with arousal.

He reached into the shower, flipped on the taps, and undid her bra clasp with one smooth motion.

“How did you learn to do that? I can’t get that thing off myself.”

“Of course you can’t,” he said into her ear. “I’m a professional.” His hands moved over her, sliding down her back, pulling her into him. Two thin layers of cotton and elastic separated them. She’d have to do something about this.

“You must have taken some kind of class,” she teased.

“I was a very good student,” he said. “Wait till you see what else I learned.”

Imagining what that might be made her toes curl.

She managed to shove his underwear off and tried pulling at her own. It was still wet from landing on her butt in a mud puddle, and peeling it off took some effort. Finally, though, they tugged each other into the shower enclosure.

A rain bath shower nozzle directed a steady stream of soothing, warm water over their heads. Numerous recessed body sprays on the walls massaged their tired muscles. Brandon’s mouth came down on hers again as he backed her against one of the walls. Their tongues tangled as he pressed his hips into hers. He was hard and hot against her belly. She reached out to cup his butt in her fingers, pulling him closer, and ground her pelvis against his erection.

He hauled his mouth off hers long enough to say, “Uh-uh. Ladies first.”

“We don’t have a condom,” she gasped out.

“I can think of lots of things to do without one, sugar.”

He licked down the side of her neck, nibbling at her collarbone. His hand slid over her belly and onward. He tangled his fingers in the curls between her legs, slipping through the wetness there. He sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, teasing the hardened flesh with his tongue as he rubbed between her legs. Her breathing accelerated.

“I’m going to come,” she murmured.

His voice was low and dark. “Not quite yet.” He dropped to his knees, his hands moving her legs apart slowly.

Her universe shrank to the size of Brandon’s double shower, his hands holding her hips, his mouth on her, his tongue moving slowly over her clit. She couldn’t be quiet if her life depended on it. She pulled one hand out of his hair, and clapped it over her mouth. James didn’t like it when she made noise. Maybe Brandon wouldn’t, either.

He took his mouth off her for a moment. “What’s wrong?”

“The—the noise,” she said through her hand.

“You get as noisy as you want. Don’t hold back.”

“You like it?”

“Hell, yeah. I love it,” he said.

Emily braced a hand against his shoulder; her knees weren’t doing a great job of holding her up right now. His tongue darted and slipped over the small button between her legs that sent shockwaves of arousal skittering over her skin. He pulled one of her legs over his shoulder to offer better access, and slid two fingers inside her, mimicking the movement of his tongue.

“Oh, God. Oh, please. Don’t stop,” she said.

She felt the familiar sensations of an oncoming orgasm—the feeling of being flung outside of herself, the shocks that started at her fingertips and toes and raced through her body, the noises she made in time with the thrusting of his fingers inside of her. He braced her with one hand on her hip and did something with his tongue she couldn’t describe to anyone else, and it sent her over the edge. She let out a scream.

The orgasm went on and on, racing through her like an electrical current, leaving her gasping for breath and trembling. Fireworks went off behind her eyelids. She sagged against the shower wall.

He rested his cheek against her belly for a moment. He licked drops of water out of her belly button. Finally, he got to his feet and pulled her into his arms again.

She tried to catch her breath. “That was amazing.”

“I got you clean, sugar. Now I’m going to get you nice and dirty,” he said into her ear.

His voice sizzled against every nerve ending in her body. She loved his hands, his mouth, his body, but his voice almost sent her over the edge by itself.

He reached behind him and shut off the shower. Steam warmed them while they nestled in each other’s arms.

“You okay?” he said.

She let out a contented sigh. “I feel incredible.” She kissed one of his flat nipples. “It’s your turn.”

Seconds later, the sweet intimacy of their naked embrace was broken by what sounded like a herd of elephants stampeding up the front walk of Brandon’s house. The front door opened with a bang.

“McKenna?” a male voice yelled out. “Honey, I’m home.”

“Get your ass out here. Where the hell did you go?” another guy shouted.

“Don’t tell me he’s already asleep for the night. What a pussy.” This comment brought laughter she could hear from behind the closed bedroom door.

“I’m going to kill those ass— dirtbags.” Brandon pulled Emily out of the shower. He grabbed a towel off the rack, wrapped her in it, and snatched one off for himself. “I’ll be back.” He strode out of the bathroom, securing the towel around his waist.

Emily dried herself while she heard him shouting above what sounded like a houseful of men talking and laughing.

“What. The. Fuck. Don’t you ladies have a party across the street? This isn’t the Holiday Inn. Why are you here?”

His comments were greeted by a chorus of responses.

“Cops came. We had to leave.”

“That’s all the beer you’ve got? We’d better send a rook to get some more. Hey, Matthews, hope you’ve got your wallet.”

“Nice outfit, sexy. You know I love your legs.”

Emily could hear more commotion in the hallway outside of Brandon’s bedroom door. She tiptoed over and locked it. She tried to comb her wet hair with her fingers, which was always a good look. She had no clean clothes. Maybe it would be a good time to raid Brandon’s dresser for something to put on. Plus, her underwear was trashed. She’d have to go commando. She pulled on a pair of his shorts and a t-shirt that fell almost to her knees.

“Hey, McKenna, we heard some screaming. You sure there’s not a dead body somewhere?”

An indeterminate number of men fell silent. She couldn’t see what was happening, but she heard Brandon again.

“Nice to know you’ve never made a woman scream before.” She heard his chuckle. “That’s too bad. Maybe you need to put a little more effort into it.”

She didn’t hear anything for a few more seconds, and then she heard them interrupting each other.

“Emily’s here? Shit.”

“We’d better leave.”

“We fucked up. Later, guy.”

Emily heard the front door slam and Brandon’s voice again.

“You’re not driving anywhere. I’m calling you ladies some cabs. Grab a seat.” She heard the footfalls of overly large men moving into the living room. A few seconds later, someone tapped on his bedroom door.

“Who is it?”

“Sugar, I need my phone.”

She opened the door enough to admit him. He shut it behind himself. “Don’t you look cute in my clothes?”

“It was that or go naked.”

She saw his mouth curve into a smile. “You know which I’d prefer.”

He reached into his dresser to grab some underwear and clothing for himself, pulling them on as he spoke. She got a great look at his gorgeous butt as he pulled up his boxer briefs.

“Do you need my help at all?” she said. “What happened?”

“They got out of Damian’s before they got arrested.” He nodded toward the window. There were ten squad cars parked around Damian’s house, red and blue lights still swirling. The sound system was off, or significantly turned down. Things appeared quiet. “You’re sweet to offer, but things are under control. They shouldn’t be driving. I’ll make sure they’re on their way home safely, and we can spend some more time together afterward.” He reached out to stroke her cheek. “I’ll be changing the locks in the morning. Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll bring you something to eat or drink if you’d like.”

“Thank you, but I’m fine. Thanks for checking on me.”

“Anytime.” His lips twitched into a smile. He reached out to grab his wallet and smart phone off the bedside table, shoving both into his pocket. “Maybe you should rest up. I intend to make sure you’re exhausted later.”

“I’ll look forward to that,” she managed to say. That voice. It should be illegal.

She wrapped her arms around his waist. He kissed the side of her neck and the sensitive spot behind her earlobe, then let himself out of the room again.

She heard conversation from the living room, a few bursts of laughter, and Brandon giving the address and cross-street to his house. Emily pulled the blankets on his bed back, and wiggled between the sheets. A little nap wouldn’t hurt. The bed smelled like him, too.

She glimpsed a flotilla of cabs arriving in front of his house through Brandon’s bedroom window. Several of the neighbors came out of their houses and stood on the sidewalk, watching men they saw sixteen Sundays each year stuff themselves into the cabs. A few minutes later, the cops joined in on the impromptu block party.