“I want to eat you every which way, Jordan,” he tells me in a tone that leaves no doubt he means what he says. A single moment later he strokes me with the flat of his tongue. I moan long and hard, my head falling back and hitting the cabinet with a thunk. “Oh god.”

My hands shift to his shoulders. The rounded muscles are solid and thick beneath my grasp—straining. My fingers dig in hard and he grunts a sound of pleasure as his tongue plunges deeper inside me.

I know I’m safe—Brody’s hands on me are hard and secure, yet I still feel dizzy and overheated. My head is near the ceiling and my heart pounds feverishly. My gasps and moans get louder and closer together as his mouth feasts on me, his tongue lapping steadily as my orgasm approaches.

“Need you, Brody,” I pant, because I desperately do. I need his body naked and locking me tight before I come apart at the seams.

He moves steady and slow, lowering me back to the counter with another grunt. Released from the tension of holding on, my thighs tremble. Brody steps back, grabbing at the neckline of his shirt and tugging it over his head.

“Hurry,” I urge, though I don’t think he can move faster than he already is.

Brody tugs a condom from his pants pocket, and I’m thankful he’s being smart because I’m too impatient to care. He tears at the little foil packet desperately, fingers fumbling. “Dammit,” he mumbles.

“I need to go on the pill,” I tell him, impatient.

“Do that,” he says, managing to get the condom free. Holding it in one hand, he uses the other to undo the button and zipper on his jeans. Shoving them down his thighs, he pulls his thick cock free of his underwear and rolls it on. “Next week. I’ll come with you.”

I shift forward on the counter, spreading my thighs in invitation. He moves between them. Our breath comes in pants and my gaze drops, settling on the swollen head of his cock pushing inside me. With an agonizingly slow thrust, Brody fills me. Our chests press together, both our hearts thumping a manic beat. Then he stills and bows his head, resting his forehead against my breastbone. I feel his breath on my naked skin, hot and heavy.

He swallows, his voice choked. “Nothing feels better than you, Jordan.”

Without lifting his head, Brody pulls out slowly and thrusts back in, sinking himself deeper.

I rake fingers through his silky hair and whisper his name, my eyes burning with sudden emotion. How could I let this happen? I fly halfway across the world chasing a dream and end up with the hottest, brightest, sweetest love I’ll ever have the chance of knowing. Brody is exciting and turbulent, charming and sexy, and deeply tortured down beneath the surface.

The man buried inside me right now is wildly imperfect, and I want forever with him.

I wake late in the morning. A simple shift of my hips and I’m groaning. I ache everywhere, but it’s a delicious ache. It’s the kind that only two bouts of incredible sex can produce. Drawing in a deep breath of air, my lungs expand as I roll in bed, stretching sore muscles and seeking out Brody.

He’s at my desk, idly swinging in the swivel chair. My laptop sits open. He’s talking to someone in between taking bites of the cold pizza slice resting in his hand. My brow furrows. Is he on the phone? I shift up on one elbow, tugging the covers up with me.

No doubt hearing the sheets rustle, Brody turns and a smug grin lights his face. Instantly, I’m wary.

“Oh, she finally wakes,” he says.

“That must have been one hell of a soccer game,” my brother responds.

Brody stifles a snort.

What in the everloving hell? My eyes snap to the computer screen. Nicky waves. It’s summer time there and the ends of his hair look dipped in gold from the sun—bright and brilliant to my tired gaze.

I rub a hand over my eyes. Have I woken to an alternate universe where my brother and Brody have become best mates overnight? It seems so.

Taking a huge bite of pizza, Brody holds out the slice in my direction. His eyes are wide as he chews, his face overly bright as if he hasn’t slept at all. He swallows. “Want a bite?”

“No,” I croak, though secretly I do. Cold pizza for breakfast is a shameful weakness of mine and I’m starving, but I have no plans to languish naked in bed, eating pepperoni and cheese while my boyfriend and brother chat in the same room together. It’s weird. And wrong. And did I mention weird? “What’s going on?”

“We’re just catching up,” Nicky tells me in his pleasant ‘isn’t this fun’ voice.

My stomach growls. I ignore it as I look between them both. “Yeah? Catching up on what?”

“Surfing,” Nicky says.

“Soccer,” Brody answers at the same time.

My suspicious glare deepens.

“Well. Good chat. Gotta go. Congrats on the win, Barney.” After casually throwing out that horrific childhood nickname as a tactical diversion, Nicky leans in and taps the keyboard, abruptly ending the Skype call.

Brody sputters a laugh, spinning his chair back in my direction after closing the laptop. “Barney?”

My chin juts out and I fold my arms.

Without any warning, Brody dives on the bed and I’m smothered beneath an enormous two-hundred-odd-pound mass of delicious man flesh. He draws back and I manage to suck in a quick lungful of air before he attacks. Grabbing both my hands, he pins them above my head. He rips the sheet away with his free hand, exposing my naked torso to the cool air. The rough pads of his fingers glide down my ribcage, deliberately hitting all my ticklish spots.

I shriek and giggle. When they brush over a soft nipple it responds instantly, peaking and sending delicious sparks of pleasure straight to my core. My back arches and my laughter dies out, a moan breaking free of my throat.

“Mmmm …” Brody draws out the sound, his gaze locked on my now hardened nipple. He traces the peak with his finger, teasingly slow, before drawing away. I squirm, my chest rising upwards, chasing more of his touch. “You like that…” he looks up from my breast “…Barney?”

“Brody.” I try to say his name in a stern voice, but the cheeky glint in his eyes sets off another peal of laughter.

“I’m dying to know,” he says before sucking the nipple inside his mouth. His tongue swirls languidly and my breath hitches. It pops free and he finishes his sentence. “How you got that particular nickname.”

Brody frees my arms and instantly I’m covering my breasts with my hands. “I’ll never tell.”

He pouts. “I have ways to make you talk.”

I’m sure he does. In fact, I know he does when the rest of the covers are ripped right off the bed and tossed carelessly to the floor.

“It’s cold,” I complain, yet my body is already beginning to heat as Brody slowly begins to torture me, touching me everywhere, driving me to the peak of orgasm before withdrawing, not letting me reach that lovely crest my body so desperately needs.

“Okay,” I gasp eventually. “I’ll tell you. Just … let me come, damn you.”

He lifts his head from where he’s now licking the crease of my thigh. “Tut tut, Barney. Ask nicely.”

A laugh escapes me. “Please! I’ll do anything you ask. Just stop calling me Barney!”

“Anything? Okay then.” Brody latches onto my clit instantly, sucking with his mouth and swirling his tongue.

From somewhere in the room his phone rings. He ignores it completely. Keeping his relentless rhythm, Brody doesn’t stop until I see bright white spots behind my lids.

“Oh my god,” I cry out on a long, keening moan.

His phone rings again as my legs flop uselessly on the bed. I am so done. “You should get that.”

Brody draws back, his hands scraping down my thighs as he rests back on his heels. He’s shirtless, an impressive erection straining the crotch of the jeans he’s wearing. “It can wait.”