The Complete Red-Hot Collection. Kelly Hunter
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He drew a breath, steadying his gaze on her. ‘So there you go. You wanted to know something else about my family—it’s not all sunshine and roses.’
‘I guess we’ve all got our stuff to deal with.’ She downed the rest of her water. ‘I nearly gave up dancing once.’
‘Really?’ His blond brows arched.
‘It wasn’t long after my dad left. We didn’t have a lot of money and Mum had lost her job cleaning one of the local motels.’ The memory flowed through her, singeing her heart with the same scorching hurt that came every time she remembered what life had been like back then. ‘She picked up cleaning work at my school. The kids used to tease me, so I told her that I wanted her to find another job… but there aren’t a lot of jobs in little beach towns.’
Why was she telling him this? She hadn’t told anyone this story—not because she was ashamed of having grown up with no money, but because she’d been so horrible to her mother. More than a decade and a half later, guilt over her behaviour lingered.
‘She gave me a choice. Give up dancing and she would quit her job at the school—because that’s what it was paying for. Otherwise, if I wanted to keep dancing, she had to keep working two jobs.’ She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. ‘So I gave up dancing for a week.’
‘You can’t blame yourself that. How old were you? Ten? You were just a kid.’
‘I don’t think I’ve ever hurt her as much as I did then.’ She shook her head, amazed that it felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. ‘I wish I could take it back.’
‘I’m sure she knows how you feel.’
‘I hope so. She gave up so much for me to be able to continue dancing. She hardly ever came to my competitions or exams because she was always working, but she never complained.’ She let out a hollow laugh. ‘Not once.’
‘She never gave up?’
‘Nope.’ She shook her head. ‘Which means I can’t give up.’
‘Sounds like you got a lot of your tenacity from her.’
The tenderness in his voice sparked her insides, lighting up her whole body—as if he had a direct ‘on’ switch to her nervous system. Her hands were fluttering in her lap. The desire to reach out and touch him made her fingers tingle. If she didn’t put some distance between them—and fast—she’d do something stupid.
‘Thanks for the drink.’
She went to hop off her stool but Brodie’s hand came down on her bare thigh. His fingers skimmed over her knee, touching the hem of the T-shirt. The touch was so light she could easily convince herself that she was imagining things. Despite her brain shouting out warnings, she didn’t want this to be a dream.
‘Is it wrong that I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking about you?’ he asked.
His bare torso was the only thing she could look at. Broad shoulders, the ripple of muscle at his abdomen, the V that dipped below his cotton pyjama bottoms. He would be naked underneath them. She could tell from the inadequate way the thin fabric concealed the length of him.
Her breath hitched, and the sudden flutter of her heart had nothing to do with panic. ‘You were the one who wanted to go to sleep.’
His hand inched up, the tips of his fingers slipping under her hem of the T-shirt. Each millimetre his hand travelled stoked the fire low in her belly, stirred the tension in her centre. She pressed her thighs together, rocking gently against the stool in the hope that it would ease the need in her.
It didn’t.
Nothing would ease the need except him. He was the only solution to her problem, the only cure for her ailments. In that moment she was raw. Exposing her past had opened up something within her—a cavernous hunger long buried by insecurities and fear. He’d shown her it was safe to be who she was, to open up and allow herself to be vulnerable. She wanted nothing more than to wipe away the old hurt with new pleasures. To erase the parts of herself that clung to bad memories, to be a new person.
‘You were the one who wanted to figure out what loopholes I might use to make a move on you,’ he said, eyes blackened with desire.
‘Have you thought of any yet? Because I could use a loophole right about now.’
IT WAS ALL the invitation he needed. Willpower was a fragile thing, easily overridden by blazing attraction, pent-up sexual tension, and too many dirty dreams. Could he take her into his bed a second time, knowing that it wasn’t going anywhere? Knowing that he wouldn’t let it go anywhere because his life didn’t have room for her?
‘Brodie?’
A plump lower lip was being dragged through her teeth, and the desperation in her voice urged the increased thumping of his heart.
Even if he’d wanted to pretend he wasn’t interested he didn’t have the opportunity. She jumped down from her stool and stood between his legs, her hands finding the rigid muscles in his thighs, brushing the aching hardness of his erection.
‘We’re friends.’ He pushed off his stool and moved into the kitchen, opening the freezer door and pretending to look for something.
‘Friends who have the hots for each other.’ She echoed his words with a cheeky smile.
The cold of the freezer wasn’t making him any less hard or any less horny. In fact it had only drawn his eyes to a chilled bottle of vodka. He wrapped his hand around the neck, savouring the ice-cold glass against his heated palm. A cold shower would have been better, but getting naked might prove dangerous.
‘Tell you what,’ she said, reaching past him and grabbing the bottle out of his hand. ‘If you can drink a shot of this off me and still not want to sleep with me, I’ll let you go back to bed.’
He slammed the freezer door shut and turned, resting his back against it. ‘You’ll let me?’
‘Yes.’ She unscrewed the bottle. ‘I’ll let you. And I won’t mention it in the morning—or ever again.’
‘Why are you suddenly trying to seduce me with body shots when before you were more concerned about setting up barriers?’ He raked a hand through his hair and tried not to think about how naked she was under his T-shirt.
‘Why the psychoanalysis?’ She raised a brow. ‘Can’t a girl change her mind?’
‘I have a rule about sleeping with my friends.’
‘What happened to that rule last night?’ She smirked. ‘You didn’t seem to be too worried about rules then. Or are you afraid that you won’t be able to say no after your little drink?’
She knew how to fire up his competitive streak—and she did have a point. He hadn’t been all that worried about his rule last night. But the rule existed for a reason. Sleeping with her would be messy in both the best and worst ways. It would mean dealing with the awkward aftermath and potentially losing their friendship if things went pear-shaped. He’d made an exception for Chantal because he’d wanted to get her out of his system, but now he was caught between taking the safe route and taking what he wanted.
That backfired, didn’t it? Man up—do the shot and then go to bed.
‘Fine.’ He grabbed the bottle from her grip and located a shot glass.
As he turned around Chantal was slowly peeling off his T-shirt. The white lace scrap covering her sex was revealed first, then a flat bronzed plane of stomach, two perfectly formed breasts, collarbones and a long mane of dark hair as she whipped the T-shirt off. He’d need a drink now. His tongue felt dry and heavy in