“It’s a good thing I like you,” he says, but we’ve had enough for now. Brody lifts me up, holding his arm beneath my butt as he opens the door and walks us inside. “Are you going to walk up the stairs, or should I continue carrying you?”
I don’t answer him. I take the opportunity of my position to nip at his earlobe, then trace my tongue along the same spot. “Jesus Christ, Journey.” Brody runs us up the stairs and tries to open my door. “You locked your damn door this time?”
“I took your advice,” I say sweetly.
He lowers me to my feet. “Open the door.”
“What do you say?” I smirk.
“Please, Journey, would you open your door before I take you right here in the hallway?”
I unclench my hand, freeing the key. As fun as being arrested for indecent exposure sounds, the inside of my apartment sounds like a better idea.
Brody twists the knob before I can get the key out, and he’s pushing me inside and kicks the door closed behind him. “You know what’s better than cold water?” He pulls me into the bathroom and tears the shower curtain across the rod, then twists the faucet to the left. It takes forever for the heat to turn on, but I’m sure he’ll figure it out quickly.
His lips are against my neck as he peels my coat off my shoulders. The stubble on his chin scrapes against my collarbone, reminding me he shaved his beard per my request. However, feeling the stubble ignites the nerve endings in my body. It makes me wonder if the beard was a better accessory than I thought. Articles of clothing fall from our bodies, one by one, until Brody steps into the shower first.
“Holy crap, why is this water so damn cold?” he shouts.
I step in after him. “It takes two minutes to warm it up.”
“You are something else,” he groans, pulling me in against him. His body presses against mine and fulfills my needs as if it was my dying wish. His hands cup my breasts, and he takes the time to taste every spot of my cold perkiness. I love the feeling of his hands roaming freely across my body, and by time his hand reaches between my legs, heat from the water ignites, steaming us into the closed space.
Brody reaches out of the shower and bends over … without shame. Wondering what he’s doing, I get clarification when I hear the belt from his pants clang around on the bathroom floor, followed by the sound of a package tearing open. He returns and spins me around, running his hand back down my center. I place my hands on the shower wall, and he grips my hips before entering me, making it known our height difference is perfect for shower sex. Brody’s breaths are erratic as he moves heavily against me, and though my knees threaten to give out, I hold my body up by the wall, enjoying a moment of every thrust. He isn’t gentle or careful with me. The force is coming to a point where I won’t be able to hold myself up much longer. My hands begin to slip, and pulls out, then twists me around and lifts me up, resting me on his hips to re-enter from the front. I rest my head against the shower wall, enjoying the sensation of his tongue circling my nipples. I grab onto the wet strands of his hair for stability, and when the sensation of a small bite hits me, I scream, “Oh God!”
“Oh, you like that?” He bites again, and his hands scoop around my back, slowly lowering, causing my body to buck against his.
“Don’t stop,” I cry.
“Like this?”
“Yesssss!” I scream. “Yes, yes, yes.”
“Beautiful,” he whispers.
My body gives into the pressure, and I collapse against Brody’s body like a rag doll as he continues pumping into me until I feel his release. His lips are back against my neck, moving up slowly until he reaches my lips. “I love the way you say, yes,” he mutters into my mouth.
I open my eyes, finding a proud smile stretching against his cheeks, and I can’t help but match the emotion, feeling the same way.
“Who would have thought this was all it took to see you smile,” he says quietly. “I won this round, Journey.”
“Fine, but the game isn’t over yet,” I respond.
Brody frees himself and lowers me to my feet. “You know, I wondered if I’d ever find out whether the carpet matches the drapes, but apparently, it’s something I must keep wondering about.”
“Oh, well, I don’t believe in covering hard-wood with any carpeting,” I reply.
“Holy—wow. I think you might be perfect.”
Perfect. The irony of the day ending on a perfect note.
“You make me feel warm inside,” I tell him. “The feeling is foreign, but I like it.”
“Whatever it is, I don’t want it to stop,” he says, combing his fingers through my hair.
We take the next few minutes to rinse off and clean up before stepping out into the warm bathroom air. I hand Brody a towel and stare down at his clothes, remembering how wet they are.
“I can make dinner, and you can hang out with a blanket and your towel,” I tell him.
