Page 86 of Dirty Like Brody
I blinked at him, appalled. “Don’t turn what we did into something dirty when youdon’teven—”
“I know what kind of party that was, and what a girl goes to that kind ofpartyfor.”
“So that’s it? Last night I’m a princess because I spread my legs for you, and tonight I’m a whore because I talked to another guy at aparty?”
“Hey, princess.” A young guy in a Sinners vest materialized out of the shadows between a couple of the Harleys, smoking a cigarette. “When you two’re finished having your little domestic out here, come on back to the party. We’ll take care of ya.” He smirked at me. Then he looked Brody up and down, sizing him up. Then he made a kissy face. At Brody. And smirkedsomemore.
Brody took me by the arm and hauled me down the street to his bike. I didn’tfighthim.
“Get on the bike, Jessa. We can talk about this when we get home.” He was using hisI’m not fucking aroundvoice, which Iknewwell.
Ididn’tcare.
Anger was rising through me, hot and fast, fueled by the combined humiliation and hurt—that he actually thought I came here to hook up with some random guy less than twenty-four hours after having sexwithhim.
Intimate, intense,incrediblesex.
At least, it wasforme.
“Why? You’ve already made up your mind about the way it is,” I said. “You’ve always been the bloody judge, jury, and executioner. But you don’t know shit, Brody. You said so yourself. You don’t know me anymore. I am not your princess.Ineverwas.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m pretty fucking awareofthat.”
“I never asked you to put me on a pedestal. No one can live up to that. Do you know how much fucking pressurethatis?”
“What the fuck are you talkingabout?”
“You said it yourself. You saw me on the internet in my underwear when you had your dick in your hand. If that’s what you want from me, for me to be that girl, that fucking fantasy you’ve had since you were fifteen and you saw my boobs for the first time, you can go screw yourself. I am notthatgirl.”
He stood there, grinding his jaw, and for a horrible moment I thought he might get on his bike and just leave methere.
“First of all,” he said slowly, “you were ten years old, and I did not see you that way. You were a fuckingkid. You were sweet and you were a funny little shit, but I did not have a hard-on for you when you were ten, so don’t make me intothatguy. I had a crush on you when you were thirteen and I was eighteen, and fuck me if that makes me a pervert or something in your books, but I never acted on it, Jessa. You looked older than you were, and sue me if I thought you were beautiful. You fuckingwere. I only kissed you when you were fifteen because you were going to parties a lot like this one and I knew someone was gonna get their hands on you first, and it was killing me. I told you I’d wait for you and I fucking meant it. I didn’t want you getting hurt, by me or anyone else. So fuck me if I cared about you. As for having you on a pedestal, sweetheart, I am more than fully fucking aware of how perfect youarenot.”
I blinked back the hot sting of tears brought on by hiswords.
Shit.Justshit.
Why the hell was I always doing this? Why was I always getting into fights with him that neither of us couldpossiblywin?
“I just want to go home. Can you take me home now,please?”
He swung a leg over his bike and settled ontheseat.
“Get on,” he said, when I just stood there, huggingmyself.
“I mean, home to my brother’s,” I told him. “I think… I want to stay there awhile.”
* * *
Iwrappedmy arms tight around Brody’s waist, spreading my thighs wide to accommodate his big body. And as we tore down the street, it was like we’d driven right backintime.
I’d always felt so safe atBrody’sback.
I savored the feeling of being there again, the wind in my face, moving as one, leaning with him when he leaned, holding on tighter when he accelerated, not even letting go when he stopped at a light. Just trusting him. My life, literally in hishands.
I’d never been on the back of anyone else’s bike, and that was finewithme.
As we got closer to my brother’s place, I held on tighter. Brody had grown stronger, more solid than when he was younger. I was all wrapped up in the woodsy smell of him, his leather jacket, his hair… and the warmth of him between my legs. The familiar growl of the machine, the power of it, thevibrations…
