He laughs against my lips, "I vote we start thanksgiving tonight. You don't happen to have an Indian costume do you?" he asks, reaching behind my awkwardly positioned body. He shoves both hands into my jeans and squeezes my butt.
"Brett, your hands are freezing!" I try to jump away, but he's holding me too tightly and there isn't anywhere to go in this sardine can-sized car anyway.
"I know, I told you we should get inside. Just give me a minute, I'm warming up my hands." He laughs, gripping me while I squirm to get out of his icy grip. It's no use though, he is so much bigger and stronger than I am. I can, however, hit him where it really hurts, and I'm not talking about actually laying a finger on him.
"If you don't stop now, I'm not, um... having sex with you tonight." For some reason this only makes him laugh louder.
"Oh sweet Jesse, don't make threats you can't follow through with."
"I could totally withhold sex for one night," I say, feigning confidence.
"Well how about this gorgeous, we don't waste time trying to figure it out. Trust me, no one wins in that situation." He's so right. I might be annoyed with him, but I was so looking forward to a night spent naked with Brett.
"Can we just go inside, the beer in your fridge is calling my name."
"Why Jesse Addison, are you becoming a lush on me?
"Probably," I answer truthfully. I have been drinking more since I met Brett, but there is just something about curling up on the couch together and drinking a few beers.
"Well, I like it! You always get a little kinkier when I'm fucking you after a few beers." He opens his door, and heads around the car to open mine.
If there is one thing I will never get used to about Brett, it's that he's always a gentleman. Yes, I do realize I called him a gentleman after he said something about f-ing me. That's just Brett though. He drops the F-word like it's a comma. If he's drinking, it spans all parts of speech: noun, verb, pronoun, adjective. At first it shocked me, but now I kind of like it. I hate to say it, but I've accepted his colorful vocabulary as part of the sexy Sharp package. It might make me a naive fool, but hearing him refer to our nightly bedroom activities like that makes me a little hot. Okay, I'll admit it, a lot hot.
"So Thanksgiving at my house?" I question one last time before stepping out of the car. I want to make certain we're on the same page.
"I already said yes. Thanksgiving at your house. I'll bake a pie or something."
"No!" I shout, startling him.
"Jesus! What is wrong with you?" He stops in the middle of the sidewalk.
"Brett, I've tasted your cooking. The last thing I need is my mother and brother keeling over from food poisoning. Just bring beer, and don't get any ideas about brewing it yourself."
“Damn, that was harsh! Just for that, I'm taking it nice and slow tonight." He continues to my door.
"Is that a bad thing? Because it sounds pretty, um...stimulating to me."
"Oh, babe, you have no idea what you are saying right now." He drags me into his apartment.
A few hours later he proves that nice and slow isn't always good. It's torturous, and my absolute new favorite.
Jesse
ON SATURDAY night, I arrive at the bar to meet Caleb and Brett. The guys spent the evening smoking cigars and having drinks for one of the detectives’ retirement party. Brett called earlier asking if I wanted to meet them out, or if I would rather stay in for night. As appealing as staying in on a cold and windy Chicago night sounded, we do that all the time. Going out sounded like fun, especially when Brett told me it was a dance club and not our normal sports bar. Since we were doing something out of our norm, it gave me the opportunity to wear something special too.
After shopping for three hours this afternoon, I found a super short navy blue dress. I wanted to wow Brett. That’s what keeps relationships alive, right? This little dress should have no problem spicing things up. The top crisscrosses in the front doing a great lift and push together trick on my boobs. I paired it with the same knee boots of Kara's that I wore on our first date at the Bears game. Brett spent the whole night staring at my legs, so I know he liked them. I must have been lost in my thoughts because I didn't see Eric until I slammed into his chest.
"What are you wearing?"
Rubbing my cheek where I face-planted into my brother’s chest, I look up to see a furious look on his face. "Jeez, Eric. What the heck is your problem?"
"Are you aware you just walked into a bar...in your underwear?" he asks like I have lost my mind. Apparently that’s what he thinks I have on, because he quickly takes off his suit jacket and throws it over me.
"Stop it, you're going to mess up my hair," I say, swatting his stupid jacket away.