Page 71 of Dear Mr. Brody

“Park…” His face flushed as small drops of rain beaded along the line of his upper lip. “Please.”

Thunder rolled somewhere in the distance as I gave him my mouth. Licking the condensation from his lips, he opened for me, moaning as our cocks aligned, grinding together, trapped behind wet denim, the friction, the rhythmic pulse of our hips, the rain, the dirt, the smell of earth and lavender on his skin, and his hands, his strong hands grasping, holding me against him, it didn’t take long for both of us to lose control. I dropped my head into the crook of his neck, my fingers twisting in the grass as I came too quickly. Van swore through his release, his hand on the back of my head, his chest rising and falling beneath me.

I rolled to my side and onto my back. Closing my eyes, the sky opened up with another clap of thunder. “Yeah… I might need to borrow a pair of shorts or something for my drive home.”

Van’s deep laugh made me turn my head and open my eyes. He stared back at me. A blade of grass stuck to his cheek, and as he smiled, I wiped it away.

“Or something...” He ran a thumb along my jaw, the storm soaking us through. “This is… you… you make me want to be impulsive.”

“I’m sorry I—”

“No, Parker. It’s a good thing.”

“It is?”

“Yeah…” The rain slowed as his thumb traced another line along my jaw to my mouth and back again. “It is.” He lifted onto his elbow and placed a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth.

“We should probably go inside before we end up like Marcos and get pneumonia.”

Van pulled back, concern written in the stitch of his brow. “He has pneumonia?”

“Nah… just a virus, but the fucker acts like he’s dying.”

I captured his laugh with my lips, and at some point, it started to rain again.

Parker

Chilled to the bone, I stood next to Van in his giant bathroom staring at our mottled skin in the mirror. My teeth chattered, regardless of the effort I’d put forth to clench my jaw, and he laughed, his smile reflecting back at me through the glass. Rainwater dripped from my soggy shirt as I peeled it from my skin and pulled it over my head. Van’s gaze traveled down my body and lingered on my abs a beat longer than I think he’d meant to. The pale color of his cheeks colored in my favorite way when he realized I’d caught him checking me out.

“You can use my dryer,” he offered, swallowing thickly. “If you want.”

“Thanks.”

I wrung the fabric out over the sink, watching him as he pulled his shirt over his head. The lean muscles in his chest and stomach moved under the skin, guiding my stare to the dark trail of hair that disappeared below his waistline. The weight of the wet denim caused his jeans to fall low on his hips, and he was all torso and long, etched lines I wanted to trace with my fingers.

“I’ll throw these in the dryer together,” he said as I handed him my shirt. “And see if I can find you something to borrow in the meantime.” He rubbed his palm over his wet hair, looking over at the shower. “I’ll set whatever I find on my bed, feel free to use what you need.”

“Van,” I said, a flicker of uncertainty pulsed through me as he turned to leave. I didn’t want to push him. This was only our second so-called date, and I was about to get in the man’s shower. Alone. Which seemed entirely inappropriate seeing as how his daughter was down the hall. But he was right here, and I needed more. I hid my insecurity and gave him a crooked smile. “You could join me… I’m pretty sure you have grass in your hair.”

His laugh was soft as he hesitated in the doorway. “God, I shouldn’t be nervous, considering—”

“We came in our pants less than fifteen minutes ago?”

He nodded, his smile awkward.

“I want to be honest with you,” he said, lowering his eyes and staring at our balled-up shirts in his hands. “I don’t think… I’m not ready for—”

“Hey.” I walked toward him, and he looked at me. “We don’t have to do anything but shower. And if you’d rather not do that either… that’s fine too. I can rinse off really quick, put on a pair of your sweats and kiss you goodnight. I don’t expect anything from you... ever. Alright?”

“Okay.” He dropped our shirts onto the floor, the loud slap echoing through the room, and unbuttoned his jeans.

“I thought—”

Van walked past me and opened the glass door to the shower, reaching in, he turned on the faucet.

Resigned, he scrubbed a palm down his face. “Being naked with you intimidates me. It makes me want things I know I’m not ready for. I’ve only ever had sex with Lanie.”

“Sex?”

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