Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
He tasted like mint and smelled like sunshine and barley, something I wouldn’t have thought would be so heady until I met him.
We were both hard as we thrust against each other, frantically kissing like we were in a plane going down and each other’s mouths were a source of oxygen.
“Fuck.” I pulled away and pressed my forehead to his. “I don’t know what it is about you, but you go straight to my head.”
He was breathing heavily as he replied, “Yeah, you with me too.”
I pulled back, before I ended up on my knees for him. “I, um, don’t think I ever thanked you for that night on the porch, for listening to that shit I told you and for keeping it to yourself—and, well, taking care of me when I was drunk and acting like a teenager being given liquor for the first time.”
“You don’t gotta thank me for that.”
“But I want to. It’s…a lot. I’m still trying to process it all, ya know? I grew up knowing my mom died when I was young and not knowing anything about my past. I figured my dad didn’t know about me or want me, and after Byron found me so easily, I sure as shit knew my dad hadn’t wanted me. Then to hear all the stories in town and to read his words about my mom…about me…and to know he did what he did because he cared. Well, it’s a lot, and fuck, I’m rambling and embarrassing myself. I’m not on my game. I just wanted to say thank you, is all.”
Brody was looking at me, this intense stare I couldn’t read. Then he stepped forward, put his hand at the back of my neck, and tugged me closer, pressing a quick, hard kiss to my lips. “You and I are gonna be in a world of trouble, I think.”
Somehow I knew he was right. “We’re Mitchells and O’Ralleys. We’re supposed to be trouble for each other, though I’m thinking not in the same way we are.”
“No shit.” He snickered. “Maybe we should get out there. Walker will be wondering.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, “I don’t know yet—and it’s not because I don’t trust you. It’s just all the other shit—but if I can manage it without raising any red flags, would you be willing to look at some O’Ralley business stuff in private and see if you have any ideas to help us?”
Shit. I’d wondered if they were struggling or in trouble in any way. “Yeah, of course. You can trust me to do right by you.”
Brody nodded slowly. “I know…just trying to think if it’s worth my ass getting handed to me, is all. You Mitchells are nothing but trouble.”
“So I’ve been told, but I’m pretty sure the same can be said about you O’Ralleys. My dad might have not been like the rest of his family and worked to get this place legit, but he also didn’t trust a bone in an O’Ralley’s body.” I assumed, at least, given the whole feud thing.
“I’m crushed,” he teased.
“Well, I know there’s at least one of your bones I like.” I brushed my hand over his bulge, and Brody hissed.
“Be good. You’ll get me hard again, and they’ll know.”
We began walking down the hallway toward the kitchen. I spoke softly, “Now, that feels like a challenge. I’m gonna have to spend all dinner trying to make you crazy for me without letting Walker and Isaac know what I’m doing.”
Brody’s foot caught on a rug, and he almost tripped. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I assure you I would…and will.” This was going to be fun.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Brody
Cohen made good on his promise of a little foot-action during our meal. Exchanging glances during this tit-for-tat, we seemed to be making a game out of navigating our feet high up each other’s legs as we enjoyed getting away with it around Walker and Isaac.
Cohen was intriguing, beguiling…and just plain fun.
I’d known some sexy guys in my life, but there was something different in the way Cohen Mitchell oozed sex appeal. And apparently it made me ooze enough during our game that Walker asked if I’d spilled some of my drink when he noticed the spot on the crotch of my pants.
What Cohen and I did together—the kiss in the bar, making out in the kitchen, getting off together in the deer stand, and playing footsie under the table—was this combination of innocence and wickedness that felt so fucking right.
A part of me wanted to stay behind at his place so we could wrestle out another load together…oh, that would be fun…but another part enjoyed how everything we did seemed to happen at just the right time, at the perfect, right pace. I didn’t want to spoil it by forcing something too soon.