Author: K.A. Linde

Liz wondered whether she should go upstairs. It felt kind of nosy to snoop around his place. She knew that he had given her the key, but this was different from the lake house. This place had Brady written all over it. The house even smelled like him.

Deciding she couldn’t help herself, she picked her dress up in one hand and wandered up the stairs. She opened up two guest rooms before locating the master suite. The room was so Brady she had to stop and stare all around her. Navy blue and tan accented the dark hardwood furniture. A picture of the lake house was framed on one wall, and an oil painting of a sailboat on stretched canvas was mounted over his bed. Along a waist-high dresser stood a collage of picture frames. She bent down and examined them, finding some as old as pictures of him and Clay as babies, one with Brady holding what must have been a baby Savannah in his arms with Clay pretending to punch him in the ribs, and some as recent as his college graduation and election to the State Senate. It was like a picture catalog of his life, and it made her smile. She hadn’t seen any pictures at the lake house.

Liz tore her eyes away from the pictures and walked over to the tall bed. She ran her hands along the comforter, knowing it was down and likely very expensive, and on the right side of the bed was a note sitting on top of a pillow. She held in her giggle as she took it in her hands, flipped it open, and read the contents.

Baby, it’s good to finally have you here.

—B

Liz bit her lip and smiled. He had planned the whole thing out. He would have had to plant this note before he left for the night, which meant he had been intending to give her a key and bring her back here all along.

It still didn’t make it okay that he had brought someone else to the gala…especially when he hadn’t told her about it. But it sure lessened the blow, knowing this was all for her.

Liz removed her constricting dress, located one of his white button-downs, and pulled it on over her head. She hung the dress in his walk-in closet that was full of expensive suits, dress shirts, and ties. Then she wandered back downstairs to wait for Brady.

The sound of the garage door opening made Liz jump up from the couch. She hadn’t been sleeping; she had been much too alert for that. But she hadn’t known when Brady was going to be back, and waiting had made her antsy.

Liz lounged back on the couch, not wanting to look flustered, and popped one of her knees up. She took a deep breath.

A door off of the foyer opened and closed, and she heard footsteps approach the living room. Brady was shrugging out of his tuxedo jacket when he stepped through the archway. A smile broke out on her face at the sight of him.

His eyes landed on her, and he smirked. “Nice shirt.”

She extended her long, lean legs out on the couch toward him and tugged lightly on the material. “Thanks. I think it’s a little big.”

Brady slung his jacket on the arm of the couch, kicked off his polished shoes, and loosened the bow tie at his neck. “I heard you had another chat with my brother,” Brady said, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt and sliding his hands into his pockets.

Liz shrugged and stretched her arms overhead. Was this really the time to talk about this? “He was outside when I was leaving.”

“And you decided to give him your phone number?” he asked, his eyes staring intently at her.

“Decided is the wrong word,” she told him, propping herself up on her elbows. She had left the top two buttons undone, and cleavage peeked out from her change in position. His eyes dropped to her chest. “I would use coerced. But either way it was only because your driver was about to pull up. I thought it would be better to give him the number and have him leave me alone than have him watch me get into your car. Was I wrong?” She stared up at him through her thick, dark lashes.

“You weren’t wrong,” he said, “but why does he now know you as Liz Carmichael?”

Liz furrowed her brow. Carmichael. Clay shouldn’t know that name. Then it came back to her. “The valet called me Ms. Carmichael,” she told him.

Brady tsked and walked forward to sit next to her on the couch. He ran his hands up her thighs with an urgency that said he had wanted to do it all night. He stopped at the edge of her shirt.

“That’s supposed to be my name for you,” he said, lowering his lips to kiss across her thighs.

“Only for you,” she whispered, her chest rising and falling. Her body was heating from his skilled touch. “Are you still angry with me?” Her voice came out hoarse and strained.

“Very,” he growled, nipping her leg.

She squeaked as her whole body tensed. “Are you going to forgive me?”

“I’ll let you make it up to me.”

Brady lifted her shirt from her thighs, scooted it out from under her butt, and then pulled it over her head. He tossed it to the ground and smiled down at her. She hadn’t been able to wear a bra with her backless dress, so she was bare before him besides her cream lace thong. “I wanted to take you out of your dress all night.”

“You should have,” she told him. She watched as he straightened and made quick work of unbuttoning his shirt. “In the bathroom.”

“If you hadn’t fought me off, baby, I would have had you bent over the sink and taken you right then and there,” he said, removing his remaining clothes.

She stared up at him completely naked before her and swallowed. She could never get enough of that body, and he was always so…ready for her. She wanted him now. Her eyes traveled the length of him, and she flushed as she thought about all the things he had done to her. Her memory was serving her better than her imagination in that instant.

His hands raked her underwear to the ground, leaving both of them bare. He moved on top of her, settling between her thighs.

“And I’m ready to take you now,” he told her before easing forward inside of her. She cried out as he filled her, and tossed her head back onto the pillow. “Just try not to wake the neighbors, baby.”

Brady started a slow, sensual rhythm, gliding in and out of her with enough force to push her toward the edge, but not fast enough to get her there. He held her head in his hands and kissed across her cheek to her lips. Their breathing mingled in heated, intoxicating kisses that only increased the passion growing between them.

Her body grew warmer with each passing minute, and she tugged lightly on his hair. He groaned into her mouth as her walls tightened all around him, and he plunged deeper. She pulled her feet off of the couch and wrapped her legs around his waist, which tilted her hips up to him. He used the added leverage to pump faster into her.

“God you feel good, baby,” he groaned against her lips.

She nibbled across his bottom lip and sucked it into her mouth playfully. He moaned gruffly when she released him and dropped his head down to her ear, where he returned the favor. She felt her breath coming out in spurts as he continued to drive deeper into her.

“Make me come, Brady,” she whispered desperately, feeling the waves of her orgasm tease at the edge of her body. She was getting close, so close, and she wanted him to get there with her. She just wanted to wrap her arms and legs around him and never let the moment fade away. If only they could stay here, like this, forever. Cut through all the misunderstandings and miscommunication, and get to the foundation of it all.

She didn’t ever want to let him go.

And then he pushed her to climax. He grunted and released at the same time, burying himself deep inside of her.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Whatever you did at the end.” He took a second to breathe. “Amazing, Liz. You’re amazing.”

She kissed his breathless lips and nodded. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him everything she was feeling and more in that moment.

But he just sighed, nuzzled into her shoulder, and let his breathing even out. She heard him whisper one more time, “You’re amazing, Liz,” as he held her close.

She couldn’t break the moment, not for anything, not even something this important…not even to tell him she loved him.

Chapter 23

JUST TELL ME

Liz shrugged Brady’s button-down back on, and he pulled a pair of loose basketball shorts out of a gym bag in the hall closet. He slid into the shorts and padded into the kitchen. He pressed a few buttons on the wall and soft music filtered in through hidden speakers.

Brady opened the refrigerator and rummaged through the contents. “I’m starving. Are you hungry?”

She yawned and got to her feet. “I think I’m all right.”

“What about some wine? I have a couple bottles of red,” he told her.

“Sure. I could go for some wine. What do you have?”

“I think this is a Pinot Noir,” he said, holding a bottle up. “That okay with you?”

She walked a few feet forward to examine the bottle. “Perfect.”

“You know, I think I could get used to the idea of coming home to you in my shirt, lying practically naked on my couch,” he said as he uncorked the wine bottle and poured them each a glass.

Liz’s heart stopped. Was he serious? She swallowed back her confusion about where they stood and accepted the statement for what it was.

“I would lie on that couch just waiting for you to come home and fuck me,” she said, stretching her arms over her head and letting his shirt ride up her thighs.

He walked a glass over to her. “You keep talking like that and I’m going to have to fuck you again.”

Liz took a glass out of his hand and tilted her head up to kiss him on the mouth.

“What the fuck is this, Brady?” someone practically screeched from the entranceway.

Liz broke away from Brady, and they both snapped their heads to the side. Heather was standing in the open doorway, wearing a black pantsuit and shooting daggers at them. Liz’s mouth hung open and she pulled Brady’s shirt down farther to try for some decency.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Heather?” Brady demanded, fury being an understatement. He pushed Liz behind him, but it was well past too late for Heather not to notice.

“The fucking door was open and I had some really important news for you. You weren’t answering your phone, so I came over in person, but apparently you were too busy fucking…” Heather shook her head in utter disbelief and red-hot anger. “Too busy fucking some college reporter to do your damn job!”

Brady shook his head and clenched his fists. “I don’t need to hear this shit from you. Just get in my fucking office, and I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” Heather yelled. “Do you know what this could do to you?”

“Heather!” he shouted, losing it completely. Liz jumped in surprise.

Heather stood up straighter, caught off guard by his outburst. Liz had never seen Brady look so angry before, and judging by Heather’s reaction, she hadn’t either.

“I will deal with you in a minute,” he growled.

“I’m going to get Elliott from the car,” Heather said, her eyes spitting fireballs at him. “He will talk some fucking sense into you.”

“Elliott is here, too?” Brady asked, his hands shaking with anger.

“Yes, and he deserves to know what shit you’re getting into, if we’re to salvage any of this.” She turned on her heel and walked out.

Brady turned around as soon as the door slammed shut and wrapped Liz up in a hug.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He said it over and over again, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, drawing back to look at her.

All she saw in those big brown eyes was concern, not the anger he had spat at Heather, or the hunger he normally showed her, or the campaign mask, or the hardness he conveyed on the outside. Nothing she expected…just fear. What could he be afraid of?