Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 209(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 209(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
“Oh.” Mia sounded relieved. “So you’ll do it this weekend, then?”
Brody’s smile died, and he looked at me wide-eyed, but I didn’t have a single good excuse why we couldn’t…
My brain was far too full of all the reasons I really wished we could.
“Yes. We will,” I agreed hoarsely. My lips tingled just from saying the words. “From now on, Brody and I will share a bedroom like other married couples. No problem at all.”
Now it was Brody’s turn to mouth Sorry at me, which was almost comical. There was no world in which Brody Kelly needed to be sorry for coming to my bed.
“Oh, phew,” Cleo said with a relieved smile. “I thought maybe you were mad at Brody like the time you were mad at me for breaking Mia’s night-light and said I couldn’t sleep over in her room anymore.”
I met Brody’s eyes across the room. “No, sweetheart. I’m not mad at Brody. Quite the opposite, actually.” I tugged at my shirt collar, but remembering Gwen’s words earlier, I forced myself to meet his eyes and said decisively, “I’m happy to have Brody share my room.”
Tension filled the room as the blush on Brody’s cheeks streaked down his neck. His eyes held mine for a beat, then two, giving me a look I couldn’t quite identify but which made my breath catch in my throat even so.
“S-same,” he said in a rough voice, and though he addressed himself to my daughter, his eyes never moved from my face. “I like your dad, Cleo. A lot. That’s why I married him. I’m very happy to share his room.”
Is he saying…? Does he mean…?
Had Gwen actually been correct about this? Did Brody want me the way I wanted him?
Christ, what was I prepared to do about it if he did?
I was terrible with relationships and emotions. That hadn’t changed. No one but Liza had ever put up with me for long, and in the end, she, too, had become so frustrated with me not being considerate enough, supportive enough, or emotionally aware enough as a partner that she’d been ready to end our marriage even before I’d begun exploring my sexuality.
But if Brody wanted to kiss me, was I going to refuse him?
One look at his face made my stomach clench with excitement and nerves, and I knew in that moment that I absolutely wouldn’t.
Mia hopped in place on her sofa cushion. “Yes, but do you loooove each other?”
“Mia!” Cleo groaned. “Gross!”
Mia giggled so hard she flopped onto her side and began chanting, “Brody and Daddy sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” until Cleo bopped her over the head with a couch cushion.
Now Brody’s wasn’t the only face bright red with embarrassment. Thankfully, the girls were too distracted to ask any more questions.
“Hush,” I told them sternly. “Only one story left before it’s time to calm down and get in bed.”
They fell quiet eventually, and I kept reading, but I could feel Brody’s eyes on me the entire time, and I tried very hard not to think about how, shortly after their bedtime, it would be time for me to get in my bed… and for the first time in years, I would not be going alone.
I could guarantee there would be nothing calm about that.
6
BRODY
He wants me. Oh god, he wants me.
Does he? Maybe I misread the situation.
My brain was going a mile a minute while I brushed my teeth for the third time. Maybe Grant didn’t really expect me to sleep in his room. What if his plan was simply for us to pretend?
I hated feeling unsure. And the last person I wanted to embarrass myself in front of was Grant. But at the same time, I wanted him enough to take the chance. Enough to embarrass myself if that’s what it took to get that chance.
When I was clean from my toes to my teeth and sporting my least disgusting pajama pants and sleep tee, I made my way down the hall to Grant’s bedroom. Worst-case scenario, he had a giant king-sized bed. We’d simply… share it. Platonically.
God, I hoped for the best-case scenario.
I knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open. “Um, Grant?”
“Yeah, come in,” he said, poking his head out from the open bathroom door. He was wearing nothing but a bath towel around his waist and was wiping the last vestiges of toothpaste from his mouth with a hand towel. “Close the door, and make yourself comfortable.”
Sure. Comfortable. As if that was possible right now.
I’d seen Grant’s body before at the pool. His muscular chest covered in enough dark hair to make my fingers itch, the tight abs hidden beneath the barest layer of soft padding, his wide, rounded shoulders and toned biceps… he was hot as fuck. I knew certain women at the neighborhood club gossiped about who would be the lucky lady to become the next Mrs. Brighton. Several of them even gushed about their eagerness to simply be his next one-night stand.