IT ALL HAPPENS SO FAST.
One second, I’m taking in the beauty of an ancient banyan tree and the next, I’m watching Brody faint to the ground after screaming that he’s been bitten.
For a split second, I think he’s being dramatic, until I see the tail end of a snake slithering away and the blood on Brody’s leg.
Dear Jesus.
He’s been bitten.
Actually bitten by a snake. I stare at him in horror, unmoving, I can only think of one thing…
Well, two things.
Is he okay?
And he is never…and I mean never gonna let me forget this.
Until my dying day, when we’re both old and wrinkly and he’s poking Gary with a cane during a Rebels game, he’s going to turn to me and say, “Hey, remember the time you made me get bitten by a snake?”
“Oh my God, was he really bitten?” Haisley cries, coming up to us as Liko hurries to the back of the line along with his assistant. They both crouch down beside Brody who is passed out, arms spread, his tongue partially hanging out of his mouth, as if he assumed the bite was going to kill him and preparing all of us with a preemptive tongue-out-of-the-mouth. If I wasn’t so horrified that I had a possible part in killing my brother’s best friend, I’d snap a picture of this.
Liko unzips his backpack and opens a first aid kit while Nakoa flips Brody to his stomach to get a better look at the bite. They both lean in and are studying his calf while the anxiety of Brody actually perishing in front of a banyan tree becomes a distinct possibility.
What would I tell Gary?
His family?
Would we have to fly his body back to America?
Would we do a Viking funeral here? I know Gary mentioned it once during a dinner party. Brody said it would be badass.
My stomach rolls with nausea as I stare down at his unmoving form.
Are they going to have to suck the venom out?
Do they have antivenom with them?
They must…
God, I can’t believe this happened.
“Is he okay?” I ask, my worry starting to skyrocket now as Haisley puts her arm around my shoulder and the rest of the group closes in.
The man might annoy me, and we bicker more than a married couple, but the thought of losing Brody makes me feel like I’d actually be losing a precious part of my life.
And if that isn’t a scary realization, I don’t know what is.
Both Liko and Nakoa sit back on their heels, wiping their foreheads, as if they’re giving up.
“What’s going on?” Haisley asks.
Liko glances up at Nakoa who then looks back at him, both with confused expressions on their faces.
“Oh God,” I say, hand to my chest, worry driving up my spine. “Is he…is he going to die?”
Liko scratches his head and then gently places some gauze over the blood, soaking it. He dabs a few times before lifting the gauze and revealing a straight cut along his calf. “He wasn’t bitten,” Liko says. “It’s a scratch from…a branch.”
“What?” I ask as I squat down closer now.
Liko points to the scratch. “See, it’s a straight line. If he was bitten, he would have two distinct bite marks right here, but”—he smooths the gauze over his calf again—“this is just a scratch…from a plant.”
My hand clamps over my mouth as I let out a snort.
Dear God, he passed out over a scratch.
Tongue out and everything.
If he thought the puking was bad, wait until he gets a load of this.
“Is everything okay?” Reginald asks, moving in close with his walking stick.
Brody stirs and they flip him back over, dirt from the path smeared across his face as he slowly opens his eyes.
He blinks a few times and then says, “I’m…I’m alive?”
Do not laugh, Maggie.
Show compassion.
Be the empathetic lover you should be in this moment.
Swallowing my enjoyment. I take Brody’s hand in mine and squeeze it tightly. “My darling, you’re alive.”
“Was the snake not venomous?” he asks, lifting up to get a look around.
I hold back my laughter as I say, “You weren’t bitten by a snake.”
“But…I felt it. I saw it slither away. My leg hurts.” He pats at his leg, far too confused yet convinced that he was done wrong by the slippery no-limbed body.
“Yes, well, it seems like you might have scared a snake away, but you didn’t get bitten. It was actually a branch in the bush that cut you.”
His face falls flat as he lifts up some more to look at his calf. “No, I know what a branch feels like, and this was not a branch, this was…this was a bite.” He tilts his leg up to get a better angle to look at his calf and I can see it in his face when he realizes that he was in fact, not bitten by a snake.
His brows dip in confusion, his mouth thins, and his shoulders sag.
“Soo…there’s no snake bite?” Reginald asks.
Liko shakes his head. “No, just a scrape from a branch, but let’s clean it up quickly.”
Brody looks up at me and I wince, knowing exactly what he’s thinking, I can see it in his eyes. He has once again humiliated himself, but no doubt, this is way worse than the beach.
Not sure how he’s going to bounce back from this.
But God Almighty, I’ll never forget the feral screeches he let out.
Truly, the best gift I’ve ever received.
“How’s the calf?” I ask as we continue down the path, bringing up the rear end of the group and giving ourselves plenty of space between the Hoppers and ourselves.
“Fine,” he says tersely.
“You’re limping a little.”
“Because if I don’t limp, I’ll look like a complete asshole who lost his mind over a scrape from a branch.”
“Hey, Liko had to use a butterfly strip, so it wasn’t just a scrape.”
“He did that just to be nice. I think to help me save face. I could see it in his expression. He was humiliated for me, just like everyone else.”
“Well, he did a nice job and the wrap around your calf looks like you truly took a beating from the jungle.”
He glances at me. “Is this supposed to make me feel better?”
“I honestly have no idea. Just trying to make conversation.”
“Maybe it’s best that we don’t.”
“If we don’t converse then it’s going to look like you’re mad at me, and are you mad at me?”
“Uh, I don’t know—are you the one who pushed me into the bush?”
I look up at him in shock. “No. I didn’t push you. Don’t try blaming the snake fit on me.”
“Is that what you’re calling it?”
“Seems like an appropriate title.”
He grows closer as he says, “You saw that snake, it was the size of my leg.”
“Wow, overexaggerate much? It was the size of a twig.”
He shakes his head. “No way. That was the size of my leg, if not bigger.”
“You have completely lost it,” I say as we follow the group around a bend and to an isolated lagoon with a wooden bridge that leads out to a hut. That must be the palapa.
We’re guided down the bridge, across the crystal-blue water, and into the hut, which is big enough for all of us. A red and cream rug is spread across the entirety of the wooden floor and there are kneeling pillows lined up on the ground for us. Two women sit at the front, holding wooden sticks and smiling as we enter.
We’re directed to take a seat across from our partner and then we’re all handed a set of wooden sticks, two per person.
Liko explains the tradition of the titi sticks, which are supposed to help couples with their communication, a practice that requires teamwork. I’m immediately on edge because communication and teamwork really aren’t Brody’s and my thing. The last few days have proven that.
Not sure Brody can take another blow to the ego today, so I lean forward and ask, “Is your leg okay to be in that position? We can sit this out if you want to.”
He shakes his head. “I’m good.”
Okay, going for utter annihilation in the humiliation department today. Got it.
Liko demonstrates with Nakoa what we’re supposed to do—start with one titi, tapping it against the ground before tossing it to your partner. Your partner does the same thing.
Tap.
Tap.
Toss.
Lord, help us.
We straighten our shoulders and Brody nods at me that he’s ready, so I tap the titi twice and then toss it. Brody catches it. He taps twice and tosses it back to me. I catch it and do the same. Together as a group, all of us fall into line, tapping our titis and tossing them.
I’m actually really impressed. We’re all synched, creating a rhythm that sounds pretty cool.
“Now, we add two,” Liko says.
So, I pick up my other titi and do the same thing.
Tap.
Tap.
Toss.
Brody catches the titis with ease, taps them and tosses them directly into my hands so I don’t even have to move. I smile back at him and do the same.
From the corner of my eye, I catch the twins stumble as well as Reginald and Regina, which of course gives me some slight satisfaction.
After a few more minutes, Liko stops us, and we all pick up our titis. Now we’re supposed to tap, tap, and toss all four at the same time. Someone takes the outside toss, and the other person takes the inside toss.
This is where it gets tricky. Brody nods that he’ll take the inside and so as we tap in unison, we lift, tap, and toss at the same time, both catching our titis.
And we’re the only ones.
Everyone else dropped them or knocked them together.
But Brody and I…we continue.
We tap together, we toss together.
Tap together.
Toss together.
We’re so in unison, such a well-oiled machine that we don’t stop—we keep going, creating a soothing rhythm that impresses even Liko and Nakoa. The other couples stop and watch us. And the whole time, as I concentrate on Brody’s toss and staying in time with him, I can’t decide if I should be impressed with us or absolutely terrified.
Terrified because I shouldn’t be this in tune with the man.
I shouldn’t be able to communicate without having to say a word.
We’re best at fighting, but this…this we’re good at, which makes it that much scarier. I shouldn’t mesh with him. We shouldn’t be this good together.
And yet, we are.
Maggie: Are you awake?
I sit at a high-top table wearing one of my short cocktail dresses that I’d packed to garner the attention of a man in a Speedo. Instead, I’m wearing it with Brody because I had nothing else to wear to dinner tonight.
We considered ordering in, but then both decided we could use a drink. Brody more than me. He’s currently at the Lanai Bar, stuck talking to Beatrice about God knows what as he waits for our drinks. Meanwhile, I grab us a seat outside of the bar under a beautifully thatched roof surrounded by tiki torches, hoping that Hattie is awake, but when I don’t get a response and Brody is headed my way, drinks in hand, I stuff my phone in my purse.
When he hands me my drink, I say, “Thank you,” before taking a very large sip. “Oh fuck, that’s not mixed,” I say, the burn flowing down my throat feeling like a dragon’s fire.
“I think the bartender was heavy-handed tonight,” he says as he stirs his drink along with me.
“What did you get?” I ask, eyeing our similarly mixed drinks. Usually, he drinks beer. Looks like he’s looking for something much stronger after the snake encounter. In his position, I’d probably be looking for the same kind of alcohol potency, but I’d be double-fisting.
“Same as you. Mai tai. Seemed like the strongest thing that I could stomach.”
“Is it going to mix poorly with your painkillers?”
He tilts his head in disdain. “You know I’m not on painkillers.”
I smirk. “Okay, but…when can we talk about the snake incident without you getting mad? Because there’s a lot I want to unpack, but I also know that you’re sensitive at the moment and I don’t want to be insensitive, so if you can just give me a heads-up—”
“Too soon.”
“Damn it. Okay. Fair. It did happen a few hours ago, that’s fine. But you need to promise me that when you can laugh it off, we’ll have a postmortem. There are so many questions I need to ask you.”
“It will probably be never, so swallow the questions.”
I sigh, but I’m not too worried—I guarantee he’ll want to talk about it at some point. Laugh about it. Discuss how feral his screams were right before passing out.
We both sip our drinks, and after a few seconds of silence, I ask, “What were you talking to Beatrice about?”
“She asked how the hike was. I skipped out on the snake part and told her about the titi sticks. She said she was shocked that you and I were so great at it since apparently, we look like the worst couple here.”
“She said that?” I ask, feeling defensive. Sure, we’re not an actual couple, but she doesn’t have to be so freaking rude about it.
“Not in those exact words, but her reaction—her surprise to the news basically said that.”
“Well, she should save her judgment. I saw her run into a pole earlier this week because she wasn’t paying attention, so she’s one to talk about coordination.”
“Didn’t catch that on camera for me?”
“Unfortunately, no.” I pause for a moment and then ask, “Did you think it was weird that we were so good at the tossing of the titis?”
He sips his mai tai and then slowly nods. “It was a little disturbing. At some point, my brain turned off what we were doing, it became all muscle memory, and I started wondering, why are we doing this so well?”
“I did the same thing. It almost felt like there was a master puppeteer moving our arms. Kind of an out-of-body experience. I got into the rhythm and just went with it.”
“Same,” he says.
“Should we be concerned about that?” I ask.
“Only if you want to dissect it,” he answers. “Which, I don’t think there’s anything to dissect.”
“So…you don’t think it’s one of those weird signs? Like because we had a connection with some titi sticks, now we have to get married? Nothing like that?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Well, fuck, if that were the case, I would have partnered up with someone else.”
“Uh-huh, and who would you have partnered up with?”
He thinks about it for a second then grins. “Reginald. Then I could really call him Daddy Reggie and it would make more sense.”
I nearly spit out my drink. “Daddy Reggie? Who the hell calls him that?”
“All his employees,” Brody says. “Well, behind his back, of course. I don’t think there’s a soul that would call him that to his face.”
“I can’t imagine why not,” I say. “Sometimes I think it would be nice to be called daddy.”
Brody raises a brow at me. “Is that right?”
I shrug. “Why not? If someone called me Daddy Maggie, it would let me know I’m doing something right.”
“I’d say you’re doing more than something right,” he says before taking a large sip of his drink.
I stare at him for a moment, his words registering. “Brody McFadden, was that a compliment?”
“Barely,” he says as he takes a seat at the high-top table with me. The space was cramped, so his long legs brush up against mine.
I shift. “The hairs on your legs are tickling me.”
“Be happy it’s just my legs.”
I raise a brow at him. “Is there something else that could tickle me?”
He brings his drink to his lips. “Take your wildest guess.”
I shake my head. “I don’t even want to go there.”
“That’s what I thought.” He finishes his sip and lets out a large sigh as his shoulders slump. “Is this what rock-bottom feels like?”
“Rubbing your leg hairs on your best friend’s sister?” I ask.
He lightly chuckles and shakes his head. “No, what happened today.” He rubs his hand over his face. “Jesus, Maggie, I’ve been a goddamn mess since this all started. My boss sent me here on a mission: to convince the Hoppers that I’m the one they should be working with, and instead, I’m passing out from a branch scraping my leg. Not sure that was the great impression she was hoping for.” He smooths his hand over his forehead, and I do feel bad for him. Despite all the tension between us, I can’t imagine the stress he must be going through.
The stress from his boss.
The stress of having to impress someone.
The stress of needing to keep a secret.
The stress of having to fake a relationship.
It’s clearly consuming him, and he’s not handling it well.
So, I press my hand to his thigh. “It’s not rock-bottom. Just a few hiccups.”
His eyes connect with mine. “Hiccups? More like burps…belches. Horrifying bellows that ring through the banyan trees.”
I chuckle. “I don’t think we’re at banyan tree shaking just yet, but one more feral cry from you and you might reach that status.”
He lifts his drink to his lips and downs the rest of it.
“Oh boy,” I say. “Is that what’s happening tonight?”
He swallows and nods. “Yeah, I think I need some alcohol and when I say some…I mean a lot.” He presses his hand on top of mine. “Will you join me?”
When he looks at me with those pleading, soulful eyes, it feels like I have no other option. I find myself nodding. “I shall join you in getting drunk.”
“And here I was calling you a wench…when right now, that is the answer of an angel.”
Man, did that mai tai work quickly if he’s calling me an angel.
Either way, I’ll take it.
“We are doing this slow,” I say as Brody grabs us another mai tai. He starts slurping his down and I pull it away. “Did you hear me? Slow. And only a buzz. The last thing I need is to get drunk and wind up face-first in your crotch again.”
He smirks. “Hey, I’ve had worse.”
I push at his shoulders. “You haven’t had better, that’s for damn sure.”
“Yeah, not in a while,” he says as he picks up one of the egg rolls, one of the many appetizers we ordered to balance out the alcohol in our stomachs.
“Oh?” I ask. “Care to share more about that?”
He lifts one of his thick brows at me. “You want to know about my sex life?”
“Not really, but I also find it interesting that you mentioned not having sex in a while. With your confidence, I’d think that you’re having better luck in that department.”
“Just haven’t had time. Work has consumed me, you know that.”
“All too well,” I say. I pick up an egg roll as well and take a bite before setting it on my plate. “In all honesty, you called it earlier this week. I came on this vacation with one thing on my mind. To get laid.”
He dips his egg roll in a bowl of sauce. “If you were at a different resort, like I said, you would have had better luck.”
“Different resort and if I hadn’t attached myself to you.”
“Which still boggles my mind,” he says with a shake of his head. “You’ve always been daring. You just waltzed up without a thought or care and stated that you were my girlfriend in front of one of the richest men in the country. Not sure I’d ever do something like that.”
“What do you mean I’ve always been daring?”
He wipes his hand with his napkin and looks me in the eyes. “For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve taken chances, and every time, it feels like you don’t even bat an eyelash. You told Gary you were going to start an event planning business. The next day, you had an LLC, a website in progress, and you were on your way to opening a business bank account.”
“That’s just good business sense.”
“You decided that you wanted to make a big move for your career, so you sent a handwritten note to Lady Garmen, asking if you could have a meeting with her to discuss the details of her wedding and included a portfolio and mood board of what you thought her wedding could look like. It was your first notable wedding in the industry. She’s fucking British nobility and you just went for it—that’s ballsy.”
I tilt my head to the side. “How do you know that?”
He shrugs. “Gary talks about you.”
“He does?” I ask.
Brody nods. “He’s proud of you. Might not seem like it, but he is. He talks about your accomplishments.”
“Oh, I didn’t know,” I say, feeling bad that I’m not more aware of what my brother thinks of me. And that I haven’t always said the best things about him.
“And on your twenty-first birthday,” Brody continues as he picks up a carrot and dips it in some hummus. “You had no problem jumping up on the bar counter, taking the soda gun from the bartender, and shooting everyone with Sprite.”
“You were there for that?”
“I was at your party, Maggie.”
“I know that,” I say, straining to remember, “But I thought you’d left by then.”
He shakes his head. “Nah, I was there.”
“Oh…”
“Either way, you take the chances I don’t think I’d take, and they always work out for you.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” I say. “I’ve taken plenty of chances and have failed miserably.”
“Yeah?” he asks. “What kind of chances?”
Not sure if it’s the mai tai in me or the way that he seems so authentic in this moment, but before I can stop myself, I say, “Like kissing you at Gary’s wedding.”
He keeps his eyes turned down as he picks up another carrot and swirls it in the hummus. After a few torturous seconds during which I second-guess everything, he says, “You didn’t fail that night. I did.”
“Brody—”
“I did.” He looks up at me. “I failed miserably. I should have…hell, I should have explained things to you.”
Uh…what now? “Explain what…?” I ask. And then an awful thought pops in my head. “Oh my God, were you seeing someone? Is that why you stopped so abruptly?”
“What?” He shakes his head. “No. I’d never do that. I might have kissed my way around college, but I’d never cheat, ever.”
“Oh.” I twist my lips to the side. I hate cheaters. I was only cheated on once, and I knew it was a him thing and not a me thing, but I still hate them. And if I’m honest, I know that Brody would never cheat. I mean, look at how faithful he’s been to my brother all these years. Oh, there I go putting my brother down again. Maggie…If there wasn’t another woman on Brody’s mind, then I’ve been right all along. “So then…it was just me.”
He brings his hand to my bare thigh and slides it along my skin, drawing my attention to his gaze as he leans in. “It was not you. It was me.”
“That’s what everyone says when they don’t want to hurt the other person’s feelings.”
“This is not the case. It was all me. I was in my head. And instead of walking away, I should have told you that.” He squeezes my thigh, and it sends a bolt of lust straight to my core as his thumb slowly slides over my skin. “I’m sorry, Maggie.”
Well, I will say this, if there’s one thing Brody is good at, it’s giving an apology.
He’s apologized twice to me now and both times have left me breathless.
He looks me in the eye.
His voice is sincere.
And he has no qualms about saying those two simple words: I’m sorry.
The man knows how to swallow his pride and that makes him exponentially more attractive.
Which is not good because I already consider him incredibly attractive.
“Thank you,” I say. He gives me a soft smile, and I’m filled with the need to apologize to him as well. “I’m sorry, too.”
His brows pull together as he keeps his hand on my thigh, staying close, as if we truly are dating. “What are you sorry for?”
“I feel like I haven’t been the best partner for you in this endeavor. I probably should have been more helpful, and I’ve made it worse.”
He shakes his head. “Nah, you’ve been good. I’ve been the idiot who can’t seem to get his shit together.” He stares up at the thatched ceiling. “Should have never worn that linen suit the first night. It was bad luck.”
That makes me chuckle. “Linen was not made for a man like you.”
“A man like me?” he asks as his thumb rubs over my inner thigh. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I swallow the nerves that bloom in my stomach as I stare at his handsome face. “You’re just tall and broad. You know…muscly. I don’t think men like you are supposed to pull off a linen suit.”
He smirks and picks up his drink. “Muscly, huh?”
I roll my eyes. “And this is why I find you utterly annoying.”
“Once again, the feeling is mutual.” He winks right before he takes a long sip of his drink. When he sets his glass down, he says, “Did you know Daddy Reggie hates linen suits?”
That makes me chuckle. “Really? And you wore one on the first night. Ooof, way to make a horrible first impression.”
“Tell me about it,” he says. “I’ll be performing a Viking funeral on the linen suit before we leave if you want to say a few words.”
“I wonder what I’d say.” I tap my chin playfully. “Linen suit, although your intentions were pure, your wrinkles overstayed their welcome, and you bunched in ways that were not the least bit flattering. Therefore, you’re dead to us.”
“Much nicer than what I was going to say.” He leans his elbow on the table as he shifts on his chair, inching a touch closer to me.
“Yeah, what were you going to say?” I ask.
“Fuck you.”
I snort. “Wow, so poetic.”
“That’s me, the most poetic motherfucker you’ll ever meet.” He glances at his empty glass and at my nearly empty one. He holds up his finger. “One more round?”
“Yeah…one more.”
“Wait…wait…wait,” I say shaking my head, my smile a permanent fixture on my face. “Gary did what?”
Brody chuckles and places both of his hands on my bare thighs now, our legs intertwined because we’re sitting so close.
We finished our food a little while ago, and even though we said one more round of mai tais, we decided to share one last drink.
Yup, I’m sharing a straw with Brody, and it feels so naughty.
He sips.
I sip.
He sips.
I sip.
We’re practically making out.
Not that I want to make out with him. Ew, gross. Make out with Brody McFadden? Yuck.
**Giggles**
I’m lying.
I’d love to make out with him.
Just look at those lips.
They know how to kiss.
They’re so freaking perfect. Just the right amount of pressure and command. They’re not sloppy, they’re not too moist, and there is nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, slobbery about him. Not to mention, the way he uses his body when he kisses, it’s like a second pair of lips as he presses into you. It makes you feel like you’re being controlled, but without feeling trapped.
Ughhhh, I want to feel it again.
I want to feel the best kiss I’ve ever had.
But I want it all over my body.
I want it between my legs.
Along my neck.
On my boobs!
Oh my God, what I wouldn’t give for him to suck on my nipples right now.
And if you’re wondering if I’m drunk, the answer would be yes.
The alcohol has hit me and is in full effect.
Watch out, bad decisions, I’m coming for you.
Brody runs his fingers over my inner thighs, and I have to hold back the moan that bubbles up inside of me, because, dear Jesus, when was the last time I was touched like this?
“He stripped down to nothing but a man thong, bent over…and let the boys slap him on the ass with a paddle.”
I let out a laugh, tilting my head back. “Why?”
“His way of making friends.”
“What a moron.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Brody says as he smiles the most gorgeous smile ever.
Seriously, how can a man be this attractive? How can he have beautiful, soulful eyes, and a mouth-watering body, and the kind of smile that makes you feel weak in the knees? How is that possible?
“Did you ever do anything embarrassing in college, like Gary? Any thong stories you might want to divulge?”
“My thong or someone else’s?” he asks playfully.
“Your thong,” I deadpan.
He shakes his head. “Sorry, princess, no such stories to tell.”
“You don’t have any embarrassing college stories? I doubt that.”
He holds up a finger. “I told you I didn’t have any thong stories. I have a catalogue of embarrassing college stories.”
I lean into him. “Tell me one.”
His thumb glides over my thigh again, our intimacy feeling natural at this point, not forced. Thank you, mai tais. “Only if you promise to tell me one of your embarrassing college stories.”
I roll my teeth over my lower lip. “I don’t have any.”
“Fucking…liar,” he laughs, and it’s so attractive the way he wets his lips while he stares deeply into what feels like my soul. “You don’t get a story from me if I don’t get a story from you.”
“Fine,” I say and press my finger against the triangle of skin that’s showing on his chest. “But you can’t tell Gary.”
“Why would I tell Gary? He has no idea that we’re here together.”
“You didn’t tell him?”
I thought they told each other everything. Why would he keep me a secret?
“Fuck, no.”
“Hmm, ashamed?” I ask.
He shakes his head as his hand moves farther up my thigh. “Terrified.”
And that brings a smile to my face as I lean my chin on my hand and take in his handsome features. “I can settle with terrified.” I wet my lips again. “Okay, you go first.”
He removes his hand from my leg and holds it in front of me. “Pinky promise me, princess.”
“Pinky promise what?” I ask.
“That you’ll tell me your story after I tell mine.” He holds his hand steady, his pinky sticking out.
Rolling my eyes, I hook my pinky with his and he brings our connection to his lips, kissing his thumb, then making me do the same.
“Happy?” I ask.
He slowly nods as his hand returns to my thigh, sliding across it again and causing my internal muscles to twitch with excitement as he nears closer to my hip bone.
“It was my junior year, near the end of the semester,” he says, leaning in and lowering his voice. “I got so wasted that I honestly don’t believe this story, but there was picture evidence so I had no choice.”
“Ooh, I’m excited,” I say as I drop my hand to his and run my fingers over the back of his wrist, far too comfortable, but not caring one bit.
The mai tais are in control.
“So, I was wasted off some magical concoction the guys made and all lubed up with lip balm, ready for a solid make out session.”
“A McFadden Make Out,” I say.
He grins. “Damn right. And I was on the prowl. There was this one girl I was looking for. The guys told me that I kept asking for a girl in a brown dress. I eventually wound up outside during my search—and it turns out I found her.”
“Oh God.” I smile. “Did you make out with a guy? Because that would be amazing.”
He shakes his head. “If only.”
I think about it for a second. “Wait, it wasn’t a guy? Then what was it?”
“Well, I found someone in brown…or you could say something brown.”
My eyes widen. “Oh my God, Brody. Did you make out with poop?”
“What?” He winces, his entire face morphing in disgust. “Jesus, no.”
“Oh, well you said it was worse. I just went there, I guess.”
“Yeah, I would never be that drunk, thanks for the vote of confidence.”
I pat his cheek. “You’re welcome.”
He turns his head and nips at my hand, making me squeal and pull away, chuckling.
Yup…we…are…drunk.
“It wasn’t poop—thanks for that—nope, it was the blowup reindeer that we used to decorate the backyard for our Christmas party.”
“Stop,” I say, laughing.
“Yup, I believe it was Comet. Tongue action and all. I cupped his chest too. The picture was incriminating. And in all honesty, I may not really remember it, but I do remember thinking it was the best fucking kiss I’d had all year.”
I shake my head as I chuckle. “That is pathetic.”
He stares off to the side and whispers, “Sometimes I still think about that night.”
I playfully push at his chest. “Stop it. No, you don’t.”
“No, I do. Because I wish it never happened, despite it being my best kiss that year. For the entire month of December, the boys sent me daily pictures and GIFs of Comet. It’s very triggering.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” I laugh some more and watch him finish off the drink between us.
“Okay, princess, your turn.”
The way he touches me is real.
The way he looks at me is real.
This is no longer a farce. This is a real date.
Taking a deep breath, I say, “An embarrassing story…”
“It has to be good. Don’t give me some bullshit that you tripped in front of a crush and dribbled your coffee on your shirt.”
The only crush I had in college was you, but you weren’t in college, and I shouldn’t be thinking about that, so…moving on.
“Darn it, you stole my story right from my lips.”
“Nice try. Give it up, Mitchell. Let me hear it.”
I don’t know why him calling me by my last name is such an aphrodisiac, but it is. It hits me hard. Makes me want to whip open my dress and offer him my breast right here, right now.
“Okay.” I twist my lips to the side. “I was doing some TA hours for my economics class—even though I have my own business now, economics was hard and I couldn’t understand it to save my life. So, during office hours with the hottie of the economics department—”
“Hottie?” Brody asks with a smirk. “Would you say hotter than me?”
No.
“Easily,” I say. That just makes him grin even wider because he can tell that I’m lying. “Well, my pen wasn’t working, but I’d just seen this thing online that if you sucked on it, it would start working again. So, I did. And when I tried writing with it, it worked.”
“Uh-huh…” he says.
“Well, it wasn’t until I got back to my dorm—five hours later—that I realized I sucked too hard and my teeth and lips were covered in blue ink.”
Brody rears his head back and laughs. “Oh fuck.”
“I went to class with blue lips and teeth, did a three-hour-long study session, and walked around campus. Not a single soul told me.”
“That’s brutal.”
“It was humiliating, and I couldn’t believe the TA didn’t tell me. After that, he wasn’t so hot anymore—more of an asshole that doesn’t help a girl out.”
Brody shakes his head. “I would have told you.”
“Yes, you would have, and you would have pointed and laughed at me the entire time.”
He nods. “Yup. Accurate.”
I push at his leg playfully just as our waitress walks up to our table. “Are you done for the night?”
Brody sighs and nods. “Yeah, I think we’re done.”
“Lovely. I have Malana waiting by with your golf cart. She’ll drive you back to your bungalow.”
“Probably best,” I say as Brody stands from his chair before slipping his hand in mine and helping me down.
He turns to the waitress, eyes glazed. “This is my girlfriend.”
The waitress nods. “She’s quite lovely.”
“Beautiful, actually.” Brody sways for a moment. “Probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. No, wait, not probably, for sure the most beautiful.”
I feel my cheeks flush and remind myself that there are wedding guests around, people we have to keep it together for.
He doesn’t mean that.
Right?
“You’re very lucky,” the waitress says as we make our way toward the golf cart where a nice lady is waiting for us.
Brody guides me to the back of the golf cart where he wraps his arm around my shoulder and brings me in close to his chest.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got her,” he says to Malana. “I’d never let anything happen to her.”
“Very well,” she says and then we take off toward our bungalow.
The sun has completely dropped behind the horizon, leaving us in land lit by a tiki torch and giving us the perfect view of the starry night sky.
“It’s beautiful here,” I say. “I’m going to miss it.”
“Same,” he says quietly into my ear. “I could see myself coming back here a lot…even if that means sleeping on a chair.”
I chuckle. “Were you really going to sleep on a chair?”
“That or the beach. Figured the chair would at least offer me some self-respect.”
“What kind of chair are we talking about? A wooden dining room chair or like…a wingback chair with some cushion?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I should have asked for a picture. I was so desperate that I didn’t even think about it. I just said yes and hoped for the best.”
“And you said you weren’t good at taking chances.” I play with the buttons of his shirt.
“Yup, great chance-taker here. Will I be murdered in my Bora-Bora chair? Only one way to find out.”
I laugh just as we come to a stop in front of our bungalow.
“Here we are,” Malana says. “Have a good evening.”
“Thank you,” Brody and I say at the same time. He helps me out of the cart then opens the door for us, and we step into a freshly cleaned bungalow with turndown service. Yup, I’m going to miss this so much.
Brody pulls his shirt over his head, not even bothering to unbutton it, and drops it off in the dirty clothes pile that I forced him to make.
“You can use the bathroom first,” I say as I take off my sandals.
“Thanks,” he says, moving into the bathroom where I hear him turn on the shower. “Okay, guess he’s taking a shower,” I say to myself. The man takes many showers. Not a bad thing, just an observation.
I go to my dresser, the room spinning pleasantly, where I search for some pajamas, but it’s all bits of lace and silk—everything looks so uncomfortable.
Very uncomfortable.
And then I see Brody’s suitcase out of the corner of my eye. Open and on display.
I twist my lips to the side when I notice that the hotel staff just laid down a fresh pile of clean and folded clothes, which means he doesn’t have to worry about a shortage of clothing and I have the option of stealing a shirt for the night.
He wouldn’t mind, right?
I slip out of my dress, leaving me in my thong and strapless bra. I don’t think he’ll mind.
I guess there’s only one way to find out.
I pluck the top shirt—a plain black tee—off the pile. I remove my bra and then slip the comfy shirt over my head. The fabric drapes around me, hitting me midthigh while the sleeves touch my elbows.
Yup, this is exactly what I needed.
I remove my thong, because no one likes to wear thongs to bed, and leave it at that.
The shower turns off and I hear him shake out his towel right before he opens the door, showing me that once again, the man didn’t dry off but just wrapped his towel around his waist.
I will never understand.
When he spots me from the corner of his eye, his entire body stiffens and his eyes roam my body.
“Uh, is this okay?” I ask.
He wets his lips and nods. “Yeah.”
“You sure? I wanted something comfortable tonight.”
“More than sure,” he says, his eyes still scanning me. “It’s yours now.”
“Brody.”
He shakes his head. “That shirt looks a hell of a lot better on you than it does on me.” And then he loads his toothbrush with toothpaste and steps out of the bathroom so I can take care of my business. Since I took a shower before dinner, I wash my face and start applying my skin care.
Brody comes up behind me, his large body pressing up against mine as he leans over my shoulder and spits out his toothpaste. When I look at him in the mirror, he just winks and then rinses his mouth.
Umm…okay.
The closeness.
The rubbing of my leg.
The inherent intimacy.
What’s going on, and why is my every breath hanging on his next move? Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s this old crush coming barreling through me, but either way, I find myself leaning into him as well.
When he’s done, he moves out of the bathroom, giving me my space again but from where I’m standing, I can see him remove his towel in the reflection of the mirror, giving me a side view of his ass as he bends down and pulls up a pair of briefs.
I squeeze my legs together as a light pulse starts throbbing through me, reminding me just how horny and desperate I am.
Not a good idea, Maggie.
Don’t go there.
I just need to sleep off the alcohol…and horniness.
I finish up and turn off the light. Brody is plugging his phone in as I take a seat on my side of the bed. I don’t bother with my vitamins tonight, as I don’t want any more liquid in my body than I already have, but I do lotion my hands before slipping under the covers.
That’s when I notice that Brody is closer to my side than he’s ever been before.
He turns toward me, and I can feel the warmth of his body only inches away from mine as I stare up at the ceiling, my heart racing, my mind coming up with so many different ways this night could end. Each topped off with an orgasm.
But I know that’s not going to happen.
Brody might be drunk, and I might be drunk, but he’s not going to—
His hand trails up my thigh, and I actually feel myself get wet, just like that, a wave of arousal hitting me all at once, with a simple touch.
He tugs on the hem of my shirt. “This is more comfortable for you? I thought you liked your pajamas.”
I swallow hard and say, “I do, just…wanted something different.”
I then turn away from him because maybe that will ease this pounding in my heart and between my legs. If I’m not so close, maybe my body won’t react so dramatically.
His hand finds my thigh. “What do you normally sleep in?” he asks, his fingers playing with the hem of the shirt.
“Uh…” I draw a blank. What do I normally sleep in? Well, let’s see…what’s sleep again?
“Do you normally sleep naked?” he asks as his hand slides up the shirt, pausing at my hip bone.
“Naked?” I ask, my heart hammering so hard at this point that I can barely hear him.
“Are you stating that you sleep naked or are you asking me?” He slides his fingers up higher. “Because right now, it seems like you forgot to put something on under this shirt, which leads me to believe you like to sleep naked.”
“What did I, uh…what did I forget?”
His hand moves across my hip and down my front, his pinky trailing so close to my pubic bone that I nearly jump out of my skin.
“Underwear, Maggie,” he whispers before pulling me against his chest where I can feel the heat of his skin…and the bulge in his briefs.
Fuck.
It’s…happening.
Is this happening?
God, please let this happen.
“Did you know you weren’t wearing underwear?” he asks as his fingers lightly trail across my lower abdomen.
“Yes,” I answer.
“Did you forget underwear because of me?”
“No,” I say and then add…“and a little yes.”
“A little yes?” he answers as he drags his fingers lower and lower until they lightly drag over my mound.
“Fuck,” I whisper as my chest heaves with need and my legs lightly part, hoping and praying that he moves his hand a little farther. But he doesn’t.
He drags his fingers back up to my stomach.
“I thought you hated me,” he says as he moves his hand farther up to my ribcage.
“I do…and I don’t.”
He brings me in even closer to his body, so my ass presses against his erection. Yes. Please God, let me have this man. I wiggle my ass against him and his hand closes over my ribcage tighter as his thumb runs across the underside of my breast.
Oh my God.
Yes.
Please…I’m begging.
I want more.
More of him.
More of this.
More of everything when it comes to his touches.
“Right now,” he whispers, his mouth finding my ear as his thumb swipes again, “it seems like…” His thumb inches up, getting closer to my nipple as he swipes again. “It seems like you don’t hate me.”
I wet my lips as my chest rises and falls, begging and pleading for him to move up one more inch. “I’ll hate you if you tease me,” I say, not even caring at this point. I know what I want and it’s an orgasm. If he works me up and doesn’t deliver, I’ll never be able to forgive him.
“Why would I tease you?” he asks as his thumb rubs over my nipple.
“Oh God,” I say, turning so I’m lying flat on my back and spreading my legs wider to give him better access. He props himself up on his elbow as he stares down at me.
“What do you want?” he asks, looking me dead in the eyes.
“To come.”
I don’t have to think about it.
It’s on the tip of my tongue.
His teeth roll over the corner of his mouth. “I shouldn’t,” he says as his hand drags away from my breast and down my stomach. “But fuck me, Maggie”—his eyes connect with mine—“I can’t stop.”
Words I would have loved to hear a few years ago.
And now that I’m hearing them, they have the same effect they would have had at Gary’s wedding. I light up with anticipation, hope. Because despite our differences, our years of dislike and disagreements, physically, it has been a very different story. He. Does. It. For. Me. I’ve known that since I was nineteen. Since the first moment Gary brought him home and I got a look at that chin dimple of his. I was enamored, unaware that men in real life could be this attractive, this funny, this kind. Probably why his rejection hurt me so much at Gary’s wedding. But now? God, please…
His fingertips lightly scrape across my skin, all the way to my hip bone. Such torturous teasing that I break out into a tingly, needy sweat.
I lift my hips, trying to inch him closer, trying to get him exactly where I want him. “You wet?” he asks.
“So wet,” I say. I roll my hips, desperate for his touch.
He keeps dragging his fingers over my stomach, around my belly button, making me wetter and wetter with no attempt to ease the tension he’s building inside of me.
“Brody,” I say, my voice just a whisper.
“What?” he asks as he seductively slips his hand up my stomach, just below my breasts. I bite down on my lip and slide my hand between my legs to ease the pressure, but he stops me right before I can touch myself. “Not yet.”
“But—”
“I’m in control, Maggie.” His voice is dark, dangerous, and a part of me thinks I shouldn’t be so turned on by it, but I am. “And you will not get yourself off, not with me in this bed.”
When he stares down at me, it’s clear how serious he is, so I nod.
He gently smirks as his hand comes up to my throat. He gently pushes against it as he rubs his thumb along the column. “Good girl.”
Oh God…what did I get myself into?
He leans down so his lips are up against my ear and he takes my hand, bringing it up to my breast. “Do you know what I want you to do, Maggie?”
“Come?” I ask, because, God, am I ready.
“No,” he whispers, his voice sending chills all along my skin. “You won’t be coming for a while.”
I squeeze my eyes shut realizing that Brody isn’t like any other man that I’ve ever been with. He isn’t about instant gratification—he’s going to make me work for this.
“I want you to play with your nipple. I want to watch you make it hard. I want to see you turn yourself on so much that you nearly come just from your own touch.”
When he lifts up, his eyes fall to my breast and he waits for me, ready to watch. And in all my experiences with men, this has never been one of them. It feels so raw, yet…erotic.
Naughty.
And I fall right into the role.
I puff my chest up and with my eyes locked on his, I run my finger over my areola, drawing circles and letting the sensation control the buzzing inside of me.
“That’s it,” he says, his eyes never leaving me. He’s in this moment, wanting to see exactly what I can do.
After a few more circles, I flick my nipple with my finger, loving how hard it is already.
“Fuck, that’s it, Maggie.” In tandem with my touch, he moves his fingers up and down my abdomen. The heady combination of what I’m doing and what he’s doing has my legs spreading wider, and a light breeze brushes past my clit.
I’ve never come from nipple play, let alone my own nipple play, but oh my God, I could see it happening.
Because what we’re doing might seem so simple, but it’s creating this tingling vibration that pulses through my body. I’m turned on, to the hilt.
I’m there.
I’m ready.
If he moves his hand over my clit, I’m gone.
“Pinch your nipple, Maggie.”
I roll my teeth over my lip and with two fingers, I pinch my nipple. I’m so turned on that a moan falls past my lips. Louder than I expected.
“So fucking hot,” he says as he swipes his hand across my ribs, down my stomach, and right above where I need him most.
“Yes, touch me,” I say, my voice so desperate that I don’t even recognize it.
But he doesn’t. He brings his hand back up in a pre-planned circle of arousal that continues to tease me.
I love it.
But I hate it.
It feels so good.
But it’s not what I want.
I want release.
I want this throbbing between my legs to stop.
I want to scream his name as I come.
Instead, he blissfully tortures me.
Over and over again until I’m so frustrated that I grip his hand and attempt to move it between my legs, but he’s stronger than me.
“Brody, you’re making me so wet. I need release.”
“Good, you’re right where I want you then.” He releases me and I nearly cry out in frustration, but then he moves his large body over mine.
Thank God.
Yes, please, let me tear down your briefs.
Let me feel how hard you are.
Let me take you inside of me and finally know what it feels like to be fully connected to you.
But to my dismay, instead of fulfilling years-long fantasies, he reaches into my nightstand.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He’s silent for a moment, but after some rummaging in the drawer, he holds up his prize.
It’s my toy, the one that sucks on my clit.
I stare it down and feel a lump in my throat slowly start to form.
He wants me to use that?
In front of him?
And here I thought him watching me play with my nipple was dirty. This is a whole new level—one I’ve never experienced.
Is he really going to make me do this myself?
He can’t possibly be serious.
“Brody—”
He lifts my shirt, exposing my breasts to the cool night air, and then he pushes the covers down so I’m completely naked in front of him, besides the shirt that’s up around my neck.
“Fuck,” he mumbles as he lowers himself to my breasts and presses a soft kiss on my nipple.
My entire body goes numb as I lift up into his mouth. All worry, all insecurity floating away as he uses his lips on me.
I float my hand into the short strands of his hair, encouraging to give me more.
He cups my entire breast in his hand. “You’re so goddamn hot,” he says before closing his mouth over my nipple and sucking it between his lips.
“Yes, Brody,” I say as my chest lifts.
“These tits, I’m fucking obsessed.”
And he shows me just how obsessed as he licks, kisses, and sucks his way across them. He plays with every angle from the underside of my breast to my areola, to my nipple. He scrapes his jaw over them, runs his tongue around in circles, and even lightly nibbles, which makes me lift off the sheets, wanting more.
While my mind is lost in the feel of his mouth, he slides the vibrator into my hand and guides it between my legs, telling me exactly what he wants me to do without having to say it. So, I spread my legs wider, press the vibrator up against my clit and, with a deep breath, I switch it on.
Immediately a wave of pleasure rushes through me and I know it will only take seconds, especially with his mouth on my breast.
“Brody,” I whisper as my pelvis moves lightly up and down with the vibrations. “Seconds. I come…in seconds.”
I feel him smile against my breast and he presses his hand on top of mine that’s holding the vibrator, so we’re both controlling it.
He continues to suck on my nipple, running his teeth over the sensitive nub and lightly nibbling, causing my stomach to bottom out with pleasure.
“Oh fuck, Brody. Oh God,” I say as my impending orgasm starts to climb.
He releases my breast from his mouth and stares down at me. “Turn it off.”
“What?” I ask, breathlessly.
“Turn. It. Off,” he demands with such authority that I turn it off. Immediately.
“W-why?” I ask as he brings his mouth to my other breast.
He sucks my nipple into his mouth, and I lie here in a state of uncertainty, as arousal threatens to overtake my body, pushing me right to the edge. Never falling over.
It’s torture.
It’s painful.
It’s absolute bliss.
And after a few seconds of floating in this crazed state, he finds the power button of my vibrator and turns it back on.
I nearly lift off the bed from the shock of the suction.
“Oh my…God,” I yell as my chest rises into his mouth and my free hand grips the sheets beneath me, crinkling the fabric between my fingers. “Yes, right—”
He turns it off and I groan out my frustration.
“Brody,” I growl, my hand slapping the mattress.
Fuck…what is he doing to me?
He’s putting me into a state of agony.
A position where I can’t live without him finishing me.
The control he has over me, over my body—it feels so incredibly new. It’s a level of intimacy I’ve never shared before.
And once again, I feel him smile against my nipple at my distress.
“Brody, please.”
He sucks my nipple between his lips. This time, he’s rougher just as he powers on the vibrator again.
Tears spring to my eyes.
My heart hammers in my chest.
My legs are completely numb. I can’t feel anything but his mouth on my breasts and the suction of my clit being pulled in such a way that the edging is so intense…I’ll never be able to obtain this level of euphoria by myself…or with another man.
“I can’t…I need…”
He turns off the vibrator.
“No!” I cry out. One tear slips down the side of my face.
The hold he has on me. I’m nearly catatonic in this state of permanent arousal with no end in sight. It’s unmatched.
It’s a state of heady happiness.
It’s a feeling of such joy that even though I’m desperate for release, I never want it to end.
I want to hold on to this.
On to him.
My senses are heightened.
My need for release is so strong that I’m now panting as he moves across my chest, sucking and biting until he gets to my other breast. The moment he sucks in my nipple, he turns on the vibrator again and since I’m so close, I nearly yell his name as my orgasm climbs and climbs and climbs.
“I’m there. I’m going to come,” I say and just as I prepare for him to turn off the vibrator, he keeps it on.
And with one last breath, my entire body seizes as a tsunami of white-hot pleasure passes through my veins, sending me into a euphoric dreamlike state as I come harder than I’ve ever come before.
“Oh my God, oh fuck…oh God!” I shout as I ride out my orgasm, feeling Brody’s eyes on me the entire time.
This is…
This is ungodly.
This is magic.
This is the best feeling I’ve ever experienced in my life.
When the spasms in my body start to settle, and my breathing levels out, I open my eyes to find Brody staring down at me, awe in his eyes.
With a satisfied smile, he switches off the vibrator and rests it on the side of the bed before tugging down my shirt and pulling up the covers so I’m no longer exposed.
Confused, I wait for him to say something, anything, but when he turns away and curls into his pillow, I feel like I’m right back at Gary’s wedding. Sure, he gave me what I wanted.
But he didn’t give me everything.
He didn’t give me his body.
He didn’t give me his mouth.
He didn’t give me the pleasure of seeing him lose control and come.
Umm…that’s how he’s going to end this?
Because that won’t fucking do.
