Page 47 of Deal Takers

“Relax, Rainey. I know you’re dying to get in my pants, but a man needs to be eased into these sorts of things.” He lets out a large gasp and presses his hand against his chest. “Wait a minute…are you a sex maniac or something? Should I be worried?Oh my god, you are, aren’t you?”

I roll my eyes at his theatrics. “You think you’re pretty funny, don’t you?”

He scoots closer and lifts my chin with his finger. “Have you changedyourmind?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Thank fuck,” he says on an exhale.

“So, what are we waiting for?”

He searches my eyes for a beat. “I have no idea.”

I smile. “Then kiss me, stupid.”

Brody flashes his pearly whites. “Yes, ma’am.”

He wraps his arm around my waist, simultaneously pulling me into him and guiding me onto my back. I can feel every inch of his hard body. His quads tighten, the ripples on his abdomen become more pronounced, and the pulsing of his thick, eager cock against my stomach makes my inner muscles clench, desperate to have him inside of me.

Brody fists the hair at the back of my neck with his other hand and slowly—far too slowly—lowers his mouth to mine. I think I moan when his tongue slides into my mouth, encouraging me to meet him stroke for stroke.Sweet baby Jesus, this man knows how to kiss.I’m pretty sure he could make me come from this alone. Everything about the way he dominates my mouth screams possession. He’s making carnal promises with his lips and tongue, telling me he’s going to own me before this is over. The intensity of it should freak me out, but I don’t care as long as he doesn’t stop.

I’m not sure how long it takes before my entire body is slicked with sweat. I’m shivering in his arms from the need he’s stoking inside of me. Brody pulls back as a full-body shudder courses through me, making me whimper.

“Why’d you stop?”

He searches my eyes for a moment before a small frown creases his face. “You feeling okay?”

I match his frown. “Well, Iwas. Why’d you stop? We were just getting to the good stuff.”

Brody purses his lips. “Don’t take this the wrong way, honey, but you look like hell.”

Dafuq?

I angrily shove his giant body off of me. “Screw you, Brody! If you didn’t want to do this, you could’ve just been honest with me before getting me worked up.”

He smirks. “A, I’m glad you’re finally admitting how much I affect you. B, I definitelydo want todo this,” he says, gesturing to the hard-on punching against his zipper. “And C, I wasn’t trying to be a dick. I’m genuinely concerned about you. You’re really clammy and pale all of a sudden.”

I’d hate to admit that when I clench my fists, my palms do feel unusually slimy. I just attributed it to the flush one gets when they’re aroused. Now that we’re not making out, I can also associate the flutters in my stomach to something a lot less pleasant. As if on cue, my stomach makes a horribly loud grumbling noise. I clutch my abdomen and gasp when a sharp cramp follows it. My eyes widen in horror when I realize what’s about to happen. Bile rises in my throat while my insides continue to wrench.

“Oh, fuck,” I mutter as I leap off the couch and run down the hall to my en suite bathroom.

I barely manage to lock the door and make it to the toilet before all hell breaks loose. My body is violently ejecting my dinner from both ends. Okay, here’s the thing. I’m a Labor & Delivery nurse—I see a lot of gross shit on a daily basis. Sometimes literally, since it’s fairly common to have a bowel movement while pushing a human being out of your vag. Regardless, broadcasting the vile things that arecoming out of my body right now is not something one wants to do near the man they were about to get naked with. I say a little prayer Brody stayed in the living room and isn’t bearing witness to all the embarrassing noises echoing throughout the bathroom.

Knock. Knock.

“Rainey, are you okay in there?”

I groan and inwardly curse that luck isn’t on my side. Thank fuck I had the foresight to turn the fan on because the smell alone would make someone run for the hills.

“I’ll be fine,” I yelp as another stomach cramp hits. “You should just go home, Brody. I’m fairly certain I have food poisoning, so we’re going to have to call it a night.”

“I don’t like leaving you like this,” he says through the door.

I heave into the wastebasket perched on my lap and proceed to vomit horrid, orange-tinted chunks of chicken and rice.

“I’ll be fine,” I insist. “Just go. I’ll call you tomorrow to reschedule.”

I close my eyes and breathe through my nose, trying to calm my gag reflex. I’m relieved when I’m met with silence on the other side of the door. I press down the flusher to help lessen the putrid stench coming from the bowl, but I don’t dare leave the toilet, knowing more is coming fast. After who knows how long, I finally feel confident I’ve expelled everything from my system. My mortification returns a thousand times over when I open the door and see Brody passed out on my bed. Dear lord, how long has he been in here? I take in the scene and see a giant sports bottle filled with water sitting on the nightstand next to a pack of saltine crackers. The wastebasket from the guest bathroom is sitting on the floor on the empty side of the bed with afreshly changed liner. I cautiously drink as much water as I can tolerate and slowly inch under the covers, no longer having enough energy to care how awful I must smell right now or what he must’ve heard. I don’t even remember closing my eyes before falling asleep.

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