“I thought you wanted to be manhandled?”

“I do,” she says, tugging her jeans down. It’s an effort, one I’m thoroughly enjoying watching. Peeling one leg off of her right foot, Jordan goes for the other and pitches forward.

We fall back on the bed with her landing on top of me. Before I can grab skin, she’s rolling off, panting as she pulls the other leg over her foot and throws her jeans to the floor.

My cock is already hard. She’s driving me insane and all she’s done is rip her clothes off like a maniac.

“What’s this?” I ask, taking in her black lace panties—what little there is of them. It’s not her usual practical attire. The little black scrap is provocative and indecent. It sets my pulse skyrocketing, but it’s anger that drives my next question. “Have you worn these for anyone else?”

Jordan pauses at my tone and looks at me. “What?”

The sudden surge of anger is irrational, but I can’t seem to get a handle on it. “You heard me.”

“Brody,” she breathes. Untangling her long legs, she gets up off the bed. Her black sweater is half hanging from the bedside table. She picks it up and shrugs it back on.

My fisted hands rest on my knees, knuckles white. Sweat dots my brow and my heart is pounding a hard unnatural beat. What the fucking hell is wrong with me? “I’m sorry.”

Jordan

Brody’s jealous outburst is like icy water dashed in my face. I turn and look at him. His head is downcast and jaw tight. I don’t understand his anger. No, I haven’t worn this underwear for anyone else, not that I’m telling him that because it shouldn’t matter. In actual fact, the bra and panties are new, and the guilt from the reckless purchase left me sick. My pillaged bank account was left devastated, but I told myself it would be worth it to see Brody’s face.

Brilliant plan, Jordan, I snort to myself.

Not that I expected this reaction. I should have. Lately, when I expect Brody to go right, he goes left. Down? He goes up. The unpredictability is insane.

“Save it,” I tell him.

Yanking on the handle, I throw the bedroom door open and stomp toward the kitchen, my heart pounding a furious beat. I’m only in my sweater and tiny scrap of black lace, but it doesn’t matter because Leah is at Hayden’s apartment tonight.

“Jordan,” Brody calls out and follows behind me.

My eyes land on the pizza box we set on the kitchen counter earlier. Perfect. That’s exactly what I need right now—carbs and calories. Ripping open the kitchen cupboard, I grab plates. They make a loud, satisfying clank when I dump them on the counter.

“Jordan, I’m sorry,” Brody implores from behind me.

“I heard you the first time,” I tell him, my voice terse as I rummage for paper napkins. I’m not sure we have any. Hayden goes through them like candy because he never stops eating. It stupidly fuels my anger. I spin around hard. “Maybe you shouldn’t waste your apologies. At the rate you’re burning through them, you’ll have none left soon.”

Brody flinches at my snide tone. I barely notice. I want to throw the entire pizza box at his head, delicious carbs be damned. I don’t. Coming from a family that’s never had much, the idea of wasting food makes my toes curl.

“Are you going to start trying to control everything I wear from now on? Because if you’re going to be a jealous dick all the time, I’d really like a heads-up on that.”

“Shit, Jordan.” He rakes fingers through his hair, leaving it in messy tufts on his head. “No. I would never do that. I love you in anything you wear. And those panties …” He exhales audibly, waving a hand at them as if he has no idea what to say. “I am a jealous dick. The thought of another guy seeing you the way I do makes me see red.”

This argument is as ridiculous as his outburst. “I don’t plan on any other guy seeing me this way!”

We stare at each other for a beat of silence. After a moment, Brody ducks his head. He looks up at me from beneath his lashes, a stupid grin pulling at his cheeks. “You don’t?”

Damn him. “No!”

Brody takes a step toward me. His eyes fall to my mouth, and down lower. I take a step back. My lower back presses into the counter behind me. There’s no more room for me to move.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he says.

The acute relief in his voice deflates my anger like a limp balloon. It annoys me because I want to be angry. I want to make him work for my forgiveness, but how can I when all he has to do is smile like that to get it?

Brody takes two more slow, deliberate steps forward, his eyes holding mine, using them to pin me in place. It ramps up my pulse. I’m being stalked. “Let me make it up to you.”

I don’t need to ask how. Brody’s intent is written all over his face. The way he looks at me, like nothing else exists for him, sets off a heavy, pulsing ache between my legs. My body responds to him so easily, and it’s scary. I want him, but I never expected this level of need. This thing between us is a freight train. Nothing seems able to stop it. Not me. Not him. Maybe not even distance.

I barely process the thought with Brody now standing in my space, his wide shoulders crowding me. His massive hands settle on my hips.

I let out the breath I’ve been holding.

“Let me.”

One of his palms slides around my belly and down, gliding lower until he’s cupping me over my panties. He rubs his whole hand between my legs, back and forth, back and forth, a slow steady rhythm designed to send me mad.

Brody’s chest expands as he breathes in deep through his nose, keeping himself in check. His eyes are watching me, reading my reaction.

My lips part and a small moan escapes. Touch me. God. Please.

That’s all it takes.

He wrenches my panties aside, and a thick finger glides through the slick, swollen heat of me.

“Fuck.” His exhale is harsh and he groans. “Jordan.”

The relief from his touch is instantaneous. Yes. God, thank you. But it’s not enough. My hips rock forward, a silent demand for more. His lips land on mine, tongue thrusting inside my mouth at the same time his finger pushes inside me.

The invasion forces a pleasured whimper from my throat. Brody swallows the sound, kissing me so hard it almost hurts. My hands grab his shoulders, holding on before I buckle beneath the pressure.

He draws back, panting, long enough to rasp, “Your sweater. Get it off.”

I barely get it past my shoulders when his mouth latches onto my nipple. Brody sucks it deep in his mouth, all the while his finger keeps up its steady assault, plunging inside and then pulling out to stroke over my clit, again and again. My breath hitches at the relentless onslaught. I wrench the sweater over my head and it drops to the floor, already forgotten when he picks me up and sets me on the counter.

“Oh god,” I gasp as he sucks open, wet kisses down my belly.

Brody drops lower, spreading my thighs wide. His gaze settles between my legs and he bites down on his lip.

I squirm. “Brody. Please.”

His eyes lift, lust-filled and dark. They hold mine as he takes the thin, elastic strap of my panties in his fists and drags them down and off. His eyes drop. I’m completely exposed, wearing nothing while he’s still fully dressed. I don’t care. I need him, any which way he wants to give himself to me.

Brody dips further down, between my thighs. Rough palms glide along my outer legs. He urges them over his broad shoulders. I comply, squealing when he grabs hold of my waist and stands. His strength is immense, each defined muscle bunching tight as he takes my weight.

My ankles lock around him, my thighs bracketing either side of his head. I dig my fingers into his hair, clinging unsteadily on his shoulders. Right before I think I’m about to pitch to the floor, he turns and shoves my back against the high kitchen cupboards behind me, his breath warm and harsh on my clit.