A
Bride for Brodie is one of my favorite books. I was going to share it
on my site, but somehow, the ending disappeared. One day, I'll finish
it--again--for now, I'll enjoy what there is of it.
Malcolm
Brodie (call him Brodie) is an up and coming architect in a big city.
He's recently ended a very destructive relationship and trying to get
his mojo back, but is finding it hard. He's a player to end all, in
fact, a friend teases him that there's a club and the only requisite
is having been to bed with Malcolm Brodie. Done with that aspect of
his life, he's looking for something more, but doesn't find the right
woman until Cassandra Tillerman storms into his life.
Their
first meeting doesn't go well. In fact, she gives him a good ten
minute rant, publicly eviscerating him. Although he's furious, Brodie
can't stop looking at the way her breasts jiggle when she gestures at
him, or the curve of her perfect lips as she rips him a new one.
Later, realizing how horrid she's been, Cassandra comes to his
apartment to apologize. She tells him that she's just ended a
destructive relationship too.
"Needless
to say, that was the end of the engagement. That was about three
months ago."
I
chuckled, my voice tinged with sarcasm. "That's the same time I
broke up with my girlfriend. If you tell me it was July twenty-first,
I might laugh myself into irony hell."
Cassandra's
face went blank and she blinked owlishly. "Oh, Brodie. It was."
I'd
never heard anything as flat and unemotional as those four words. My
laughter stopped suddenly, and I felt like a truck had run me over
and stopped on my chest.
"Please
tell me you're kidding and that's some sort of sick joke."
"I
think I know the date my life went to hell."
"Me
too."
I
wanted to cry and laugh and kiss her all at once. All I could do was
sit there like an idiot and fiddle with the damn sugar wrappers.
Tears
ran down Cassandra's face as she tried to pull herself together. I
was being completely useless until I finally had the brilliant idea
of getting her a box of tissues off my desk. I sat next to her on the
couch, close, but not quite touching her. I didn't want to broach
that semi-impenetrable wall around her.
Fresh
sobs took over as we sat side by side on the couch. Cassandra leaned
toward me, putting her head on my shoulder, bawling her eyes out. I
put one tentative arm around her. She didn't run screaming from my
presence or punch me in the gut, so it seemed to be all right.
She
smelled fantastic. My senses reeled as she snuggled next to me,
sobbing and gulping pitifully. Every instinct in me wanted to protect
her. These feelings warred with my very masculine need for some
female companionship. My baser instincts took over and I lost self
control. I guess there's something sexy about a woman sobbing on my
shoulder.
My
lips sought hers, I couldn't help it. Every nerve in my body was
screaming for her touch. She didn't resist, but relaxed against me,
her breasts pressing against my chest in a tasty, comfortable way. My
other arm went around her, pulling her to me in a tight embrace. I
managed to keep control of my hands, but I knew it wouldn't be long
before I was making a grab for places I shouldn't. Any moment, she
was going to break away and tell me no. Any second, she was going to
make me stop. Anytime now. . . . Surely she wasn't going to. . .? It
wasn't possible!
My
mind raced, keeping pace with my heartbeat. Lust and desire were
taking over. I didn't know how much longer I could hold on. She was
soft, sexy, curvy, warm, delightful and decidedly, deliciously
female. I could smell her scent and I wanted it all over me. Her
kisses made me weak. I could hardly breathe with her so close.
No,
I just met this girl today. I don't even know her. She's the daughter
of a client. It wasn't working. I couldn't find a single thought to
kill the burning in my loins that this woman caused.
I'm
having lunch with her mother tomorrow. Bingo!
It
would have totally killed the mood, except Cassandra put my hand on
her breast, pressing against me. Then the fingers of her other hand
drifted down between my legs. Like electricity, her touch shocked me.
If I'd had any thought of stopping up to that point, it was gone now.
Her
body felt so good next to mine. I tried to take her top off, but she
wouldn't let me. Hands all over the outside she allowed, but when I
went for flesh, she slapped me.
Was
it me, or were there mixed messages here? Yes, I want you, but on my
terms. That's what she meant. Shit! Her terms weren't enough. I
wanted the whole thing, not the bits and pieces she was allowing me.
I wasn't sure how we came to this point from the tirade this morning.
She felt guilty about that, so did I. I was a real prick, but she was
a bitch too. This wasn't all my fault and she knew it. But this
wasn't a bootie call. No sex, please, we work together.
I
wanted to roar loudly, go primal, tear her clothing off, drag her by
the hair and take her to bed. In my mind I was begging her to shove
caution aside and grind away, but I'd never say that to her. This was
a woman who needed to be romanced, finessed, treated like a lady.
Then fuck her brains out, the primal Id said loudly in the back of my
head.
I
started having a metaphysical argument with myself. The Id battled
the Super Ego while the Ego sat there saying: "Guys. Guys! The
lady's talking!" He slapped us both upside the head. We shut up
and listened.
"I
should go, Brodie. I really shouldn't have come here at all. But I
felt I had to explain why I was such an unmitigated bitch." She
was adjusting her rumpled clothing furtively, like she'd been caught
doing something dirty.
I
forced my eyes to focus on hers and my mind to concentrate for a few
precious moments so my lips could say something profound. Clearing my
throat, I marshaled my spiraling emotions.
"I
understand, Cassandra."
"I
need to go." She started to get up from the couch, but I held
her.
"Please
stay. I want you—to stay," I faltered.
I
was about to say the wrong thing. It was all going to fall out and be
all the wrong words. I opened my mouth to either recant the
invitation or extend it again, I don't know which. Suddenly her lips
were on mine again, kissing me compellingly.
"Cassandra,
you are the hottest woman I've ever seen. I want you," I gasped.
"Let me inside you." I'm not above begging.
She
stiffened, pulling away from me like she'd been electrocuted. "I
need to go now," she said stiffly.
Great,
I totally screwed up. She hated me again and it was my own, primal,
lusty, dickhead self that did it. I walked her downstairs, hands
carefully away from her, feeling sorry for myself. I hated what I'd
said, but dammit that was how I felt! She couldn't appreciate the
finer points of conversation going on here. Men don't communicate
like women do. When we say something like that, it's a compliment. I
don't say that to every woman I meet. Only the incredibly hot ones
who play with my emotions and screw with my head.
Before
we left the building, she turned to me, kissing me once more. If I
didn't have such snoopy neighbors, I swear I'd have thrown he on the
foyer floor and humped her into the basement. Instead, I settled for
some fantastic kissing, a little nibbling and some more groping. She
handled it all well until I got a little too friendly and tried to
put my hand up under her skirt. I found out that Suzie wasn't the
only one who knew incredibly painful things to do to a man. Cassandra
did fine along that line too, I figured out as she threatened to
crush my fingers.
"I'm
sorry," I babbled. "Really sorry. I won't do it anymore.
Cassandra, I need my hand. I really, really do." Another minute
or so of babbling and apologizing, she finally let go of my fingers.
Nothing was broken, but that was gonna hurt tomorrow.
©
Dellani Oakes
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