“What?”
He loomed over me. “Your bed. Does it make noise?”
Totally flummoxed by his nearness and the intensity in his eyes, I just stared at him.
“Only one way to find out, isn’t there?” He picked me up and tossed me onto the bed. Then he crawled over me on all fours until his knees were by my hips and his palms were above my head. “Touch me, Lennox. Put your hands on my shoulders.”
I didn’t think about it; I just did what he told me.
Brady’s face was inches from mine. He rolled his body forward, without really moving anything but the mattress and the bed frame.
The bed frame creaked loudly, followed by a bang as the headboard hit the wall.
Another roll of his hips and the entire bed moved again.
And again.
If it had been any other man, I might’ve laughed at the way he rocked above me in a parody of making love. But it wasn’t funny; it was hot as hell.
Creak, creak, bang.
Creak, creak, bang.
Creak, creak, bang.
The only place we touched was where my hands gripped his shoulders. Our eyes were locked, our breath mingled.
But with the steady rhythm he built, I felt as if he was moving on me, in me.
“I’m the first man you’ve had in this bed.”
“Yes.”
Something feral—like triumph—flashed in his eyes. Then he buried his face in my neck and sighed.
He rolled off the bed and I scrambled upright, sitting on the opposite side, trying to find my sanity. We were both fully clothed. We hadn’t done anything.
Yet . . . somehow we’d just been as intimate as if we had been naked.
This whole thing freaked me out. I was letting Brady call all the shots.
At the cabin this weekend.
At the football game.
Just now.
Enough.
I had to regain some ground. I had to do more than talk the talk about doing the unexpected; I had to walk the walk.
I whipped off my shirt and opened my top dresser drawer. Reaching behind me, I unhooked my bra.
“Lennox. What are you doing?”
I spun around to face him and his eyes went nowhere near my face for several long moments. “That bra digs into the underside of my breast when I’m shooting, so I’m changing into a sports bra. Why? It’s not like you haven’t seen my bare chest before.” Feeling ornery, I cupped my breasts and caressed them. “Going braless is so much better. I wish I could get away with it all the time.”
“Uhh.”
I snagged a workout shirt with a built-in bra and pulled it over my head. I eyed his clothing. A snappy suit, of course. That’s when I knew I couldn’t share range time with him. Wielding a gun, he’d look all sexy and badass like James Bond, and my hormones could handle only so much in a day.
He said, “What’s the plan?”
“You can follow me to the gun range.”
“Why don’t we ride together?”
“It’ll be easier this way. If you get bored, you can leave.”
His eyes glittered. “I doubt watching you waving a gun when you’re not wearing a bra will be boring, baby.”
“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
*
Brady
I’d been hard since the moment Lennox wrapped her fingers around that cold metal.
She’d tested the weight and heft of three handguns before she’d chosen a Smith & Wesson 1911.
Her friend Pistol tried to load her clips, but she’d done it herself.
How many women did I know who could shove nine-millimeter bullets in a clip and hold a conversation about ever changing HMO requirements?
Just one. And I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
Lennox’s first target looked like Swiss cheese.
Her second target had been markedly better.
She discussed groupings with Pistol before she set up her third target range.
I watched her from the gallery the entire time. Her shoulders were back, her arms slightly bent at the elbow. Her stance looked relaxed, but I knew it was a difficult position to hold for any length of time.
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.
Shell casings flew as she fired.
She dropped her head from side to side, stretching her muscles and giving me a glimpse of that sexy tattoo on her neck. I wanted to run my tongue over it, tasting her sweat. I’d rest my hands on her hips as she fired, feeling the power of the gun and the strength in her arms.
She turned and looked at me. The raw lust I witnessed in her gaze blew my mind.
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.
I had to squint, but I could just make out that she’d aimed high on the paper target at the shoulder.
More shrugging and twisting of her lush body as she readied herself.
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.
She ejected the clip, set the gun on the counter and reeled the target back to check out her handiwork. Then she turned to me and grinned, giving me two thumbs up, looking so damn cute in her oversized pink ear protectors that I couldn’t stand it.