Courting Gossip. Kimberly Dean
evidence? Would it be just Morgan? Police techs? Would there be a viewing party with popcorn and dimmed lights?
Brody stepped closer. Whatever was on her face, he read it this time. ‘I’m on it, Jenny.’
‘I know.’
She was caught off guard when he cupped her cheek. The touch was fleeting – there and then gone – but the warmth spread into her chest and made her lungs squeeze.
‘Let me know if you need anything,’ he said as he moved to the door. ‘I’ll be up.’
He left her alone, and she covered the spot where he’d touched her with her hand. She let out a shaky breath. Prickly and unsettled as their relationship was, she felt safe here. Protected. Yet she wasn’t fooling herself. The gossip was coming…the gossip about the senator and the redhead. She touched the tips of her hair.
She needed a shower.
She unzipped her bag, pulled out her toiletries and crossed the hallway. The bathroom was just as pristine as the rest of the place, with matching towels and tiny fish-shaped soaps in a bowl. She glowered at the fish. She was tempted to flush them down the toilet, but stopped when she realised that decorator girl hadn’t made the grade.
What kind of a woman did he go for?
Genieve sighed. She shouldn’t be looking to start any more rumours.
With a twist of the controls she started the shower to let it warm, and began stripping off her clothes: the dress that had been on the floor, the bra that had made Metro PD gawk, and, finally, the panties Brody had stashed in his pocket.
They suddenly felt intimate, moulding to her shape and clinging to her body. If she hadn’t asked for them back, what would he have done with them?
With that thought pinging around her head, she stepped under the spray of warm water.
‘Mm,’ she sighed. The rush of water felt calming. Cleansing. It wet her hair and pelted against her skin.
She reached for the soap and began sudsing up. She wasn’t a hypocrite. She liked sex, and Senator Gunderson tried to give her pleasure – but he paid to touch her. Somehow here, in Brody’s home, it felt disrespectful to have a client still on her skin.
More important, she didn’t want him there.
She lathered her body, banishing the night from her thoughts until only one memory remained. She’d been with Brody in her fantasy.
She laid her hand over her cheek again, and her eyelids got heavy. She shouldn’t.
Her soapy fingers moved down her neck to her collarbone. She really, really shouldn’t.
But she’d been yanked away from an orgasm at the worst possible time. Her belly had been knotted with unmet gratification for hours, and fear, worry and desperation had only stretched her nerves thinner. Would it be so bad to relieve that tension?
Would it help her stop looking at her unexpected housemate like a triple-layer chocolate cake?
Mmm, cake. She wanted to have him and eat him up too.
Her head fell back as she trailed her hand lower and cupped her breast. She took its weight and remembered in her fantasy how strong his mouth had been at her nipple. How hungry…
She groaned when the tender nub stiffened against her palm.
He’d been invading her thoughts more and more – during her dates and even in her off hours. He hovered there like a disapproving chaperone.
Did he think she should be spanked?
She moaned as she stroked her stomach and down to her abdomen. Her muscles squeezed as she remembered how their bellies had brushed and their legs had tangled. Gunderson had been gone for her at that point. She’d just felt Brody filling her, over and over again.
With the water heating her skin, she pushed the hard bar of soap between her legs. It bumped against her clit on the back stroke, and her knees wobbled. She braced her free hand against the slick shower wall and insistently did it again.
‘Ohhh,’ she cried. ‘Brody.’
She didn’t have to cut off his name any more. He was the one who made her hot and bothered. She was hiding in his house. He’d swooped in to carry her away when she’d been in danger.
Because that was his job.
She booted the trivial thought from her head and rubbed the bar of soap between her legs faster. It had been a long time since she’d had to bring herself to pleasure. She had the tricks of the trade to ensure she got what she needed on the clock.
But she didn’t want somebody else touching her right now. She wanted the headstrong hottie who was somewhere in this house, at this very moment.
The one who called her Jenny.
The soap dropped to the shower floor with a clunk, and Genieve began using her fingers on herself. With her eyes squeezed tight, she fought for air as she stroked her tender, swollen folds. She rimmed her opening and pushed a finger in deep.
‘Ahh,’ she panted. But this was Brody. She came back with another finger, doubling the pressure and doubling her pleasure. She stroked her clit with her thumb and imagined how his violet eyes would watch her face as he fondled her.
With a groan, she turned and braced her shoulders against the shower wall. Her hair clung to her back and her neck as the water sprayed against her breasts and her stomach. Rivulets coursed over her curves and along the seams of her legs to meet where her hand was still dancing. She spread her legs wider and propped one foot on the lip of the tub across from her. She rolled her aching nipple as the wet heat at her core built and built.
He’d cover her as he took her. If she could ever break through that hard-driven, focused exterior of his, would he cave? What would happen when his fingers stopped tapping?
Her pussy squeezed.
She’d been aroused at the hotel room, but nothing close to this. Her fingers plunged hard and fast. Finally, she let go of her breast and used both hands to get herself off. Her thumb settled over her clit and rubbed. One swirl, two swirls, three…
The climax that ripped through her was more powerful than any she’d had for months.
‘Brody,’ she gasped on an airless cry. The orgasm was long, and it was full. Her toes curled around the lip of the tub as her thigh muscles clenched. ‘Brody!’
When it was over, Genieve could barely stay upright. She sucked in air and waited for her body to stop quivering. When the water started to cool, she finally had to move. Her body felt heavy as she cleaned herself up once again. Her muscles were limp, and the tension of the night had ebbed.
It was all she could do to get herself out of the shower. Her body felt sensitive as she towelled off, and it only reminded her of Brody staring at her in that terrycloth robe. He hadn’t been so immune to her then. He’d been uncomfortable when he’d handed her panties back to her, too. She felt sexy as she pulled on a clean pair and let her nightie slide over her head.
She was smiling softly when she opened the door. Maybe she would have good dreams tonight, if she could make it as far as the bed.
She stepped out of the steamy bathroom, still lost in the haze, but Brody was suddenly there, in the flesh. He hadn’t seen her either as he was coming down the hallway, and they bumped into each other solidly. Genieve wobbled, and Brody’s head snapped up fast. He dropped the tablet he was carrying to the floor and caught her about the waist.
‘Woops,’ she squeaked as she braced her hands against his chest.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Are you all right?’
She was better than all right. He was tall, warm and solid.
Her damp hair glided against her back as she looked up into his face. His body was hard. Those suits didn’t lie, but he’d stripped down to just