Brady Remington Landed Me in Jail

I shifted under his gaze.

Brady tightened his lips when he saw that I pulled my robe closer around me, but he didn't say anything. I jerked a shoulder and mumbled, "I don't even know what to wear. I can't wear what I usually do."

"You mean the turtlenecks and baggy sweaters?" Brady nudged my leg this time.

I ducked my head, but couldn't stop a small smile. "You know what I mean. I can't wear that to one of her parties." My wardrobe choices weren't that bad. A baggy sweater, but not a turtleneck. Ever.

"You make it sound like Clarissa is an alien or something." Brady leaned back on his elbows. He kicked his legs in front of him and just like that, the room had transferred from being hot and intimate to being the same as always. Brady was back in charge again. He grinned, cockily, when I stood in front of him.

"You know what I mean," I muttered and scrutinized my closet. I had nothing that would pass as semi-attractive.

"No, I don't, Ray. You've always been weird about Cumberly. Why is that?"

"Why don't you ask her?"

"I have. It bothers her. She doesn't think you like her."

I swung back; eyebrows arched, and stared at him.

Brady liked to use gel in his buzz cut so that his short hairs stuck up a little, but after his shower his hair had already dried and looked soft to the touch. He looked like a little boy, complete with two dimples as he grinned back at me. He was different when he was with me. If we'd been at the party, he would've had the hard edgy look to him. He liked his tattoos to be seen, but I saw that he had pulled a blanket to cover the tribal tattoo on his stomach. The one on his shoulder was hiding in the shadows.

"It's not that I don't like her. It's just that…she's one of them."

"One of what?"

"You know. Your girlfriends."

"My what?"

"Your girlfriends." I didn't think that I needed to spell it out. "She's…I don't know. She's cool and confident and…she's not the type of person that I'm friends with."

"You're friends with me." His voice was quiet.

The air shifted again. Here we were…I knew that I needed to tread lightly, very lightly. I met his gaze, swallowed over a knot in my throat, and felt that we were talking about something different.

"You're different. I mean…we're not normal, Brady."

A scowl formed at his mouth. "What are you talking about? We're not normal?"

"You know—you're…one of them and I'm…not."

"That is the most retarded thing I've ever heard." He threw himself off the bed and stalked towards me. "You are just like me. You are no different than me. You are no different from Clarissa."

"Yeah, but…" I was pressed against the doorframe as Brady towered over me. "I'm not one of your girlfriends."

His chest was in front of mine. Another step, just an inch, and we'd be pressed against each other. His gaze was glued to my lips. I kept looking from his eyes to his lips, but then I felt something strange wash over me when he murmured, throatily, "You're more than that."

I sucked in a large breath, I couldn't let it out. I stood there, frozen in place. He skimmed the side of my face with his hand, then tucked my hair back and cupped my cheek. He moved close and slowly, so slowly, rested his forehead against mine. His breath tickled my lips. "You're my best friend, Ray."

My hands had lifted to his arms. I felt his muscles shift underneath my fingers and I clasped harder. I couldn't fall.

"What are you doing?" The words wrangled out of my throat.

Brady didn't answer. He closed his eyes and nuzzled his mouth against my temple. My hands slid from his arms to his shoulders and then behind his neck. One of his hands cupped the back of my neck where he applied pressure and arched my head back. The other hand skimmed the side of my robe. When his fingers spread out, the top of his thumb brushed underneath my breast.

"Brady, I don't…" I couldn't talk anymore, but I knew there was something that I needed to say. I knew it, but…

"Shhh." His lips touched mine. They rested there, but there was no pressure, no demand from him.

Then his lips opened over mine. A surge of need rushed through me and I clasped him tight. Brady pushed me against the doorframe and he urged my leg to wrap around his waist. I couldn't get enough of him. It was like before, but this time it was different. I knew what would happen.

I never thought I'd do this or be like this, but it was Brady.

His thumb slipped inside my robe, touched my breast, and all thought fled my brain.

CHAPTER SEVEN

"I have to go to church."

I was on my back, entangled with bed sheets as Brady collapsed beside me. I stared at the ceiling, felt the breeze from my open window, and all I could think was—"I have to go to church and pray."