Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him today? Control was his thing. Always had been. Yet he’d been walking around knocking shit over and dumping stuff everywhere he went.
You know what the problem is. You just don’t want to admit it.
Rocky shot him a look of concern. “You sure you’re good?”
“Yeah,” Brody lied. “Like you said, I just need to catch up on some sleep.”
And sex. Sex would definitely help.
When Ro’s princess face threatened to consume his thoughts again, he somehow found the strength to block it out. Drawing in a deep, cleansing breath to keep from letting lose the string of other curse words filling his head, Brody slowly and patiently set about picking up the spilled ammo and returned the tray to its cardboard box.
Okay, scratch that. Maybe he didn’t need forever. Maybe his problem was as simple as the actions of a drunken friend clashing with his underserved hormones.
Maybe all he needed was a night of hot, wild, passionate sex.
And just like that, the memory of Ro’s tongue dancing with his fell over him. A moment so deeply engrained he could almost still taste her. Even now, hours later.
Knock it the hell off, King. You’re not sleeping with Aurora, and that’s final!
No shit, he wasn’t having sex with his sister’s best friend. Because that would be…
Hot.
Wet.
Wild.
Wrong. It would be very, very wrong.
Oh yeah? Well if the idea of sleeping with Ro is so wrong, why is your dick trying to fight its way out of your zipper from just the thought?
He looked down and inwardly cursed. Christ, it was like he was a fifteen-year-old virgin again. He’d been half-hard all damn day, thanks to that one, stupid, meaningless kiss.
The kiss, her skin, those plump, lace covered breasts…
“You got any other plans for today, or can you go home and crash for a couple hours?” Rocky bent down to put several boxes of bullets into a gray backpack he’d brought with him.
“Nope. No plans.”
Using the opportunity to adjust himself without being noticed, Brody reached down and fisted himself, shifting his aching erection up and over to the side. He was still uncomfortable as hell, but at least now, he might avoid having a permanent zipper impression on his dick.
“That’s good.” His teammate rose back to his feet. “Maybe you can call it an early night, then.”
“Maybe.”
Unless he got a wild hair and decided to hit the bars instead.
You really think you’re gonna meet your soulmate by trolling random bars?
It happened; he assumed. Probably every damn day. But no. Loud music, sticky ass floors, and the smell of stale beer wasn’t exactly the way he’d imagined meeting the love of his life.
He would have to dosomethingto change up his game, however. If he didn’t want casual, that meant he’d have to find the time and energy to put himself out there. Which meant he had to find the time to actuallygoout on nights other than just when it’s someone’s birthday or engagement party.
And someplace other than his back yard or here, at Meg and Hunt’s new place.
But when? Between meetings with Homeland, the day-to-day of helping Hunt run the office, and Delta taking on jobs that sometimes required them to be gone from home for days—or even weeks—at a time, his free-time was limited.
And when he did have time off, all Brody wanted to do was sit at home and relax.