before we go any further.”
Fear creeps into her gorgeous eyes, and rightfully so. Also, vulnerability and a fierce determination to accept what I’m going to say regardless of the consequences. She makes me feel wanted in a way that I’ve never felt before—unconditionally.
“The other night, you asked if I were an alcoholic or something,” I say. “Would it matter to you if I was?”
This isn’t a conversation I wanted to have at this juncture of our relationship, but it’s important for her to know what she’s getting into if she decides to be with me.
Emotions flit across her beautiful face. Her expressiveness is alluring, and something I’m unused to getting from women, even when telling them the most awful truth about myself. I start to think she’s not going to answer she’s so quiet.
“Would it matter to me personally?” she says finally. “No. Would it matter to the Skylar brand? Probably. Especially if it were ever to get out of control and cause a scandal. How long have you been sober?”
“Five years clean. Alcohol wasn’t my drug of choice, though. It was opiates. I was an addict.”
Sky doesn’t flinch. “Thank you for telling me, Brody. But if you’re telling me now believing there’s a possibility I’ll change my mind about you, that’s not going to happen.”
Her eagerness to believe in me regardless of my confession pisses me off for some reason. “Why the hell not? Are you so anxious to be hurt by someone?”
Anger flashes in her eyes, too. “I have been hurt by someone. A man who didn’t have an ounce of integrity. If I’m going to take a risk, it’s better for it to be with someone who reveals their most offensive truth up front. It’s difficult, I know, but at least you’re telling me now so I won’t have to pry it out of you later.”
For some reason, it turns me the fuck on when a chick busts my balls like this. Sky isn’t as demur and traditional as she projects, especially when she’s got a few drinks in her. I’ve barely finished this thought when she pulls me to her by my lapels and kisses the fucking shit out of me.
Her lips taste like champagne and the fruity lip gloss she wears over her signature Skylar lip color. Uh oh! My lower head is engaged now, and there’s no fucking way I’m going to be able to refuse her invitation.
“You’ve got balls of fucking steel, Skylar Samuelson,” I say as soon as our lips disengage.
“The sooner I get the deejay to make that announcement, the sooner you’ll be able to confirm whether or not that’s true.” She takes my hand and pulls me toward the French doors.
SIX
SKYLAR
DAY EIGHT
I’m so ready for the man on the other side of my bedroom door, I’m trembling like a vibrator on its highest speed. I pause, take a deep breath, and enter.
My gaze locks on him immediately. He’s shucked down to his skivvies and is lounging on my neatly turned down bed. I’m struck by how appropriate Brody looks in my bedroom. He’s been in here before, but not in his current state of undress.
I lock the door, step out of my heels, and leave them where they fall. I begin a slow traverse toward him, removing the rest of my clothes and studying his physique. He’s got that wiry rock star body, except with generously toned muscles, courtesy of his MMA activities, I’m sure. His boxer briefs are tented with something else that is generous and which I’m very anxious to sample.
I struggle with the zipper on my dress.
“Let me help.” He leaps off the bed and meets me in the middle of the floor, wrapping me in an embrace and claiming my lips before he does the honor of unzipping me.
There’s so much damn furniture in this room we could be occupying, but we kiss, grind, and make out in the middle of the floor as if it’s been too long since either of us had a good fuck and we’re afraid that lying on the bed might make the lust go away.
I love that he isn’t gentle, treating me as if I’m some kind of
Fear creeps into her gorgeous eyes, and rightfully so. Also, vulnerability and a fierce determination to accept what I’m going to say regardless of the consequences. She makes me feel wanted in a way that I’ve never felt before—unconditionally.
“The other night, you asked if I were an alcoholic or something,” I say. “Would it matter to you if I was?”
This isn’t a conversation I wanted to have at this juncture of our relationship, but it’s important for her to know what she’s getting into if she decides to be with me.
Emotions flit across her beautiful face. Her expressiveness is alluring, and something I’m unused to getting from women, even when telling them the most awful truth about myself. I start to think she’s not going to answer she’s so quiet.
“Would it matter to me personally?” she says finally. “No. Would it matter to the Skylar brand? Probably. Especially if it were ever to get out of control and cause a scandal. How long have you been sober?”
“Five years clean. Alcohol wasn’t my drug of choice, though. It was opiates. I was an addict.”
Sky doesn’t flinch. “Thank you for telling me, Brody. But if you’re telling me now believing there’s a possibility I’ll change my mind about you, that’s not going to happen.”
Her eagerness to believe in me regardless of my confession pisses me off for some reason. “Why the hell not? Are you so anxious to be hurt by someone?”
Anger flashes in her eyes, too. “I have been hurt by someone. A man who didn’t have an ounce of integrity. If I’m going to take a risk, it’s better for it to be with someone who reveals their most offensive truth up front. It’s difficult, I know, but at least you’re telling me now so I won’t have to pry it out of you later.”
For some reason, it turns me the fuck on when a chick busts my balls like this. Sky isn’t as demur and traditional as she projects, especially when she’s got a few drinks in her. I’ve barely finished this thought when she pulls me to her by my lapels and kisses the fucking shit out of me.
Her lips taste like champagne and the fruity lip gloss she wears over her signature Skylar lip color. Uh oh! My lower head is engaged now, and there’s no fucking way I’m going to be able to refuse her invitation.
“You’ve got balls of fucking steel, Skylar Samuelson,” I say as soon as our lips disengage.
“The sooner I get the deejay to make that announcement, the sooner you’ll be able to confirm whether or not that’s true.” She takes my hand and pulls me toward the French doors.
SIX
SKYLAR
DAY EIGHT
I’m so ready for the man on the other side of my bedroom door, I’m trembling like a vibrator on its highest speed. I pause, take a deep breath, and enter.
My gaze locks on him immediately. He’s shucked down to his skivvies and is lounging on my neatly turned down bed. I’m struck by how appropriate Brody looks in my bedroom. He’s been in here before, but not in his current state of undress.
I lock the door, step out of my heels, and leave them where they fall. I begin a slow traverse toward him, removing the rest of my clothes and studying his physique. He’s got that wiry rock star body, except with generously toned muscles, courtesy of his MMA activities, I’m sure. His boxer briefs are tented with something else that is generous and which I’m very anxious to sample.
I struggle with the zipper on my dress.
“Let me help.” He leaps off the bed and meets me in the middle of the floor, wrapping me in an embrace and claiming my lips before he does the honor of unzipping me.
There’s so much damn furniture in this room we could be occupying, but we kiss, grind, and make out in the middle of the floor as if it’s been too long since either of us had a good fuck and we’re afraid that lying on the bed might make the lust go away.
I love that he isn’t gentle, treating me as if I’m some kind of
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