Pretty sure your dick would disagree with that last point.
Brody’s jaw grew tight as he grabbed the next box of ammo and another empty weapon. He’d promised himself he wasn’t going there, and damn it, hewasn’t.
Even as he thought it, the image of Ro sleeping peacefully on her couch that same morning filled his mind’s eye. It was how she’d looked as he’d slipped away at the ass crack of dawn.
He’d returned the throw pillow and blanket he’d used to their rightful places, refilled her glass with fresh water, and moved them further down the coffee table so they were within her reach. And then he’d left.
But before he’d shut the locked door behind him, Brody had allowed himself a brief moment—no more than a handful of seconds—to look back. To take in the sleeping beauty curled beneath the soft blanket he’d found and committed the stolen image to memory.
Only in that moment, when Brody had studied all that long, dark hair, soft pale skin and lips he knew tasted like blue raspberries, coconut, and sex, he’d thought…
Ro’s no Sleeping Beauty. She’s my very own Snow White.
And he’d spent most of the day doing everything in his power not to think about that or the dreams that had kept him in a fitful state of unrest the night before.
Dreams where Ro’s naked body had been lying on top of his. That incredible mouth of hers kissing him in places other than his mouth. His hands touching, squeezing, and teasing her feather-soft skin while he drove himself deeper and deeper inside her—
“Yo, King! Have you even listened to a single word I’ve said?”
Shit.“Sorry, what?”
“Damn, man.” Rocky’s blue eyes found his as the man finished prepping his own weapons for next time. “You don’t usually space out like that. Guess you reallydoneed some sleep, huh?”
That and sex. Don’t forget the sex.
His greedy cock twitched at the thought. It had been what…eight, nine months since he’d been with a woman? And Brody couldn’t even remember how long he’d gone without before that.
Problem was casual, no-commitment sex no longer held the same appeal as it had in his twenties. Hell as recent as a couple of years ago, he’d had no problem going out and hooking up with a nice, single woman looking for nothing more than a night of consensual sex.
Those one-offs hadn’t just been about scratching an itch, though. They’d gotten him through those nights when the ghosts of what he’d seen, heard, and done became too powerful to quiet all on his own.
Luckily, over time, those haunting memories had finally begun to fade. Not disappear. More like they’d go dormant for a stretch. But Brody knew they’d never, ever fully leave.
The nightmares…thememories… They were a part of him now. Always would be. But he was damn tired of letting the past dictate his future.
He may not know what the years ahead held for him, but one thing Brody didn’t want—what he was through wasting his time with—were emotionless, meaningless hook-ups.
He wanted something real. Something lasting. A relationship that was passionate, loyal, and lasting. A life like the one his mom and dad had shared.
A love like the one Christian found with Meg.
A woman who loved and accepted every single part of him. His present. His job. His past.
Someone to wake up to. Someone to be there when he got home from work—whether that be at their office downtown or some desert in the middle of Bumfuckistan. A woman to curl up with at night, to help replace the bad memories with a lifetime of happy ones.
Christian found that with Meg. And while it was admittedly weird at first for Brody to see his friend and his little sister playing kissy face, he couldn’t be happier for the two.
Jealous but happy.
If they can make it work, maybe I can have forever, too.
The thought no more struck when Ro’s gorgeous face flashed through Brody’s mind. Taken aback by the unexpected leap his sleep-deprived brain had decided to travel on, he lost his grip on the plastic tray filled with 9mm rounds, dumping out half-a-dozen bullets before regaining his hold.
The unspent rounds rolled every which way on the flat, wooden surface in front of him.
“Fuck!” Brody slammed the tray down so he could pick up his mess.
Mentally berating himself for not being more in control of his thoughts—and his hands—he caught one before it fell over the edge.