Page 37

“You’re an ass.” I shove him but he doesn’t budge, flipping over and laying his head on my lap as he snags the remote.

“Movie to watch or movie to fall asleep to?”

“Aren’t you exhausted?” I ask.

“I slept on the bus but can pass out if you just want to turn it off?” He looks up at me from his place in my lap.

I never noticed how long his eyelashes are. And dark compared to his dirty-blond hair color. “Nah, let’s watch something. I’ve basically slept for two days.”

A small crease forms between his brows. “The medicine help at all yet?”

“I think so. The shower definitely did.”

“Good.” He nods, looking over my face.

“Did you bring the medicine with you?”

He nods. “Grabbed it at the gas station on the bus’s last stop.”

Warmth flows through me at his thoughtfulness, and I settle back onto the pile of pillows. Brady turns to the TV and hits Play on a movie.

“Should I order something to eat?” he asks, getting comfortable.

“I don’t think I can eat much right now, but I did have something earlier.” When he looks up at me, I tell him, “I had to call in at the day care, and Granny Grace made me some soup. Twice actually.”

“That was nice of her.”

“Yeah, I’m her favorite so…”

Brady scoffs playfully. “Course you are. You are a notorious teacher’s pet.”

“Hey, all you gotta do is smile a little, give a compliment here and there, and bam.”

“Pretty sure if I did that here, they’d think I was hitting on them.”

I chuckle, taking a small drink of water when he passes me a bottle with the lid off. The coolness feels so good along my heated throat. “Yeah, it’s a little trickier when you’re an adult being taught by hot adults.”

His eyes snap my way, narrowing. “Whoa, what? Who?”

“Professor Falcon. He was my English professor first semester. The man is fine .”

Brady glares.

“What?” I grin. “I didn’t say we hooked up but…I’m not saying I would have regretted it if we had.”

“Cameron Cox.”

A loud laugh leaves me. “Wait, have you ever slept with an older woman before?”

Brady instantly looks away, and I gape at him, wiggling until I can slide free, and his head hits the pillow. I’m on my knees, shoving at his shoulder in seconds.

“You filthy boy, you have, haven’t you? Was she good? Like better than girls our age? Did she want to go all night like they make cougars seem in the movies?”

“Oh my god,” he chuckles, shifting and looking over at me without turning his head my way. Only his eyes. “Quit it. No, I haven’t slept with an older woman.”

“Okay, fine. You haven’t fucked one, but have you hooked up with one? ”

“No.”

My shoulders fall. But I nod. Makes sense. His mom isn’t exactly old, so that might be weird for him. I gasp, waggling my brows. “Okay, so how old was the oldest person you slept with?”

“We are not doing this.”

“Oh, come on! It’s fun.”

“No,” he scoffs a stiff laugh. “Not fun. Keep it up and I’m sleeping in Ari’s room.”

“Her bed sucks. You’ll be back in mine in minutes.”

He shakes his head. “You’re annoying.”

“And yet you missed me.”

He looks over, now sitting up beside me. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I did.”

A sudden shyness washes over me, and I look away, fighting a grin as I focus on the TV, pretending I don’t hear his throaty chuckle that follows.

Brady grabs some snacks from his bag and sets them between us. I pick at the crackers a bit, leaving the Skittles to him.

After a while, he moves them aside, his arm coming to settle on the pile of pillows at our backs, and I lean into his side, curling my legs up.

He’s got the blankets tugged up to his hips, so I grab a handful of the down comforter and tuck it under my chin to get even more comfortable.

His hand comes up, and he touches the back of it to my forehead, checking to see if I’m warm. He doesn’t say anything, but his lips slide across the same spot a moment later, and I smile to myself.

Guess the fever has finally broken.

My neck starts to hurt after a while and I stretch, turning onto my back, noticing his feet are hanging off the bed with all the pillows we’ve got stacked.

I sit up, and he pushes onto his elbow, looking at me in concern .

“Come on, let’s scoot up so you don’t feel like the big bad wolf lying in Grandma’s bed.”

He smiles, sitting up, and we toss several pillows to the floor.

He scoots back first, his eyes closing with a sigh as soon as he’s settled.

I knew he was getting tired. I dig around in the blankets, searching for the remote.

“Woman. Get up here.”

“I can’t find the remote.” I flip the edge of the blanket up, looking around near his feet.

“Leave it. The next movie will play automatically.”

“I was going to turn it down so you can sleep—ah!” I cut off with a squeal when he flies up, his arm coming around me and hauling me into his chest.

He shifts slightly so he can tuck me beside him. The movement has his hand slipping along my fluffy robe. It slides through the fold where it’s tied closed, and we both freeze when a gasp leaves me.

His hand is massive, fingers reaching my ribs, the edge of his thumb frozen in the place it landed— right beneath my nipple.

“Cameron,” he rasps, and my toes seem to curl.

“Y—” I swallow and try again. “Yeah?”

“Are you naked under this?”

“Yeah…”

Neither of us moves, and we sure as hell don’t speak.

But then Brady’s forehead falls to the side of my head, his lips right above my ear. His breath is so warm as it fans over my neck that goose bumps erupt, tickling along my flesh as they spread all over.

“Can—” he begins but says nothing else.

I can’t find any words, unsure of what’s happening here but too curious to move.

Slowly, his thumb skates higher, the textured pad a featherlike touch against the bottom curve of my nipple .

My cheeks flame when it starts to pebble from the tiny bit of attention.

His swallow echoes in my ears, and my pulse thumps in response. His thumb stretches a little higher, and he finds what he was looking for.

His muscles clench under me, fingers along my ribs twitching.

“Barbell,” he murmurs, more to himself than me. He explores the jewelry further, his thumb no longer on my breast, but I feel the slight movement of the piercing. “And…spikes?”

I chew on my inner lip, nodding.

A throaty sound leaves him, and this time, his touch is more sure, more deliberate as he presses at the little spike, his thumb dragging across my hardened nipple to the other side.

A low, pulsing need flares in my core, and my heart beats a little faster.

It’s confusing. It’s invigorating.

“Are they… Do they stay this way?” He glides his finger along the underside of my nipple.

Hard. Do they stay hard, that’s what he’s asking. My neck burns in embarrassment, because no, no, they do not.

He made them hard.

But I mean, so does the cold, so it’s not that big of a deal. Right?

He nods against my head, a soft hum in his throat that tells me I’m wrong.

He likes that he’s made them stand to attention.

He lifts his head then, and I can feel his eyes burning into my cheek, but I don’t look away from the TV. No idea what’s on it, but that’s where my eyes remain glued.

His hand leaves my skin, and my chest hollows, willing it back.

And then he flicks my nipple ring.

My entire body spasms, my gasp mixed with a strangled moan loud in the room .

Brady stays perfectly still for a moment before slowly pulling his hand out of my robe.

He grips my hips and shifts me until I’m facing the wall away from him and lies down, pressing at my upper arm for me to do the same.

I do.

Closing my eyes, I try to hide the way I’m breathing, but it’s hard when it’s stuttering and fast.

It takes an embarrassingly long time, but I manage to calm my heart rate back to a reasonable level, and I no longer feel his harsh exhales in my hair either.

Natural reactions, that’s all.

I’m lying so stiffly, so I try to stretch a little, shimmying back, but Brady’s hold on my hip turns to steel, pinning me in place.

“Don’t,” he rasps. “Stay right there.”

My pulse thumps, so easy to read between the lines—I can’t scoot back because if I do, I’ll feel him.

I’ll feel him because he’s hard.

I swallow, shifting, but this time so I’m lying on my belly, and slowly, he lets me go, his arm sliding beneath my pillow.

We lie there for several long minutes, and finally, sleep starts to set in again.

“Thank you for coming over, Brady.”

“Don’t thank me for taking care of you.”

I smile to myself, finding his hand under the pillow and pressing mine against it. “You’re really good at it.”

“Good. Then you know what you should expect from a man,” he says quietly. “If he’s anything less than that, he doesn’t deserve you. He’s not worth calling yours.”

Something stirs in my chest, and I welcome the warmth it brings. Eyes closing as I burrow deeper into the pillow. “Good thing I already have a boyfriend, then, huh?”

“Fake boyfriend, Cammie Baby,” he murmurs. “Make sure you demand the same from the real one. ”

I try to turn over to face him, something inside me driven with the need to see the expression on his face in this moment, but his arm comes around me again, holding me still.

“Sleep,” he whispers.

I try. I really, really do, but it’s not working.

I have no idea how long it takes, but his breathing grows deeper, and a wave of gratitude hits me.

This man had to be exhausted from two days of travel and a hard-played game, yet he still came here to make sure I was okay.

He’s always there. So attentive.

So responsive.

Cameron . Stop. Jesus.

Brady is asleep, but sleep is the furthest thing from my mind.

I’m overheating and losing the battle with my willpower—or lack thereof.

My eyes stay shut, but my mind is in marathon mode and shows no sign of slowing down. It’s full force ahead with no finish line in sight.

I have no idea how much time passes, but his every exhale rolls over my skin. It’s warm and enticing, a tingling sensation that starts at the nape of my neck and prickles its way down.

Suddenly, I’m not just warm and cozy.