Page 8 of Torrid Little Passion
Only slowing to take corners.
My arms are clasped tightly around Brady's waist, but this time I keep my eyes open and my head held high as he navigates his way through town. It's a short ride, less than five minutes, before we're pulling into an underground parking garage.
He took me to his place.
As soon as he cuts the engine, he pulls his phone from his pocket, making no move to get off the bike. Reading over his shoulder, I watch as he sends a text to Julian, his roommate.
BRADY: You home?
My body is still vibrating from both the ride and the kiss as we wait in silence for a reply. When his phone finally chimes, my eyes flick back to his screen to read the reply.
JULIAN: At the Kappa house then headed to work. You need something?
BRADY: Nah. Just wondering if I should pick up dinner.
JULIAN: You're on your own tonight. I'll let you buy for poker night tomorrow, though.
"Poker night?" I ask as Brady pockets his phone, climbing off the bike.
"Guys’ night. Now that they've all attached themselves, we don't get to play as often." Brady removes the helmet, hanging it from the handlebar, before helping me off the bike, steadying me when my legs threaten to collapse.
"This isn't the Zeta house."
"Did you want me to take you home?" He takes my hand in his, standing so we're facing each other. "I think you know what I want, Mya. If that's not something you're interested in, I can take you home."
"What if I want the same thing?"
He doesn't answer my question. He doesn't need to. I already know. I've made my decision. We've been friends for years. I've wanted him, this, since the moment I first laid eyes on him. Even more once I got to know him. He kept us firmly planted in the friend zone.
A zone that no longer seems to exist.
And I'm not about to throw away my shot with him.
We ride the elevator in silence. I fantasize about him taking me against the wall like you see in movies. Wishing I'd worn a skirt so it'd be easier for him. My hands shake the closer we get to his floor.
"Are you nervous, dove?"
Dove. That's the second time he's called me that.
"No." The single word comes out sounding uncertain, making me feel small.
"No?" Brady releases my hand, turning to stand in front of me. Placing his hands on the wall beside my head, he boxes me in, staring down at me with a wicked grin on his face. "Are you sure? Because you should be."
"I should?" I swallow the lump in my throat at his admission.
"Very. Nervous. Because I plan to make you scream my name until you lose your voice. To make you come so many times you'll lose count. And to kiss every inch of your naked body until you're withering under the faintest touch of my lips."
Fuck!
His words are turning me on. Enticing me and scaring the shit out of me.
No one's ever said anything like that to me. I've only been with two other guys. My last boyfriend—who turned out to be the jerk of the century—never even got me off. Though, he took good care of his own orgasms.
It's been a few years since I've had an orgasm not brought on by my own hand. And right now, one kiss from Brady could ignite the spark that has me flying into a million pieces.
"Are you sure you're ready for this, dove?"
The elevator doors slide open before I can respond. Brady exits, holding the doors open as he waits for me to join him. This is my chance to run. To change my mind. He's giving me a choice.