Page 137 of Rush

“She wasn’t thrilled,” I confess quietly, buttoning Broderick’s shirt. “But it’s my life. Besides, weren’t you the one telling me to get over Alex?”

Broderick’s jaw tightens subtly at Alex’s name, vulnerability flashing briefly. I look away, feeling more exposed, despite my undress.

Andrew shakes his head slowly, staring at Broderick. “She’s family. You know how messy this gets.”

“I know exactly how complicated it is,” Broderick replies evenly.

The silence thickens. Andrew sighs, resigned.

“Fuck’s sake, man,” he says bitterly, glaring before storming out, slamming the door.

“You should probably talk to him,” I say.

“He’ll be fine. Let him cool off. I’ll talk to him later.”

Broderick wraps me gently in his arms.

“El—are you okay?”

I bury my face against his chest, breath unsteady. “Not really. Riley, Philippa, and now Andrew know. This was supposed to be private.”

“I know, baby,” he murmurs softly, lips pressing to my forehead, soothing me.

“Maybe we should stop.”

“What? El, no—forget the rules for a minute. The sex is good, right? Just enjoy it. Enjoy us.”

“I mean, it’s more than good, Brody, but this complicates things.”

“Hey—we agreed we wouldn’t hurt each other, right? Friends no matter what. And what about your needs?”

“I’ll make do with BOB.”

“Who”

“Battery operated boyfriend—BOB—my vibrator.”

“Damn. Replaced by robots already. Sheesh.”

We laugh.

“Look, if you want to stop, we can stop,” he says. “But sex with you is fucking heaven. And for the first time in a long time, I’m having fun. But I get it—if my performance isn’t to your satisfaction…”

He’s having fun?

Well, far be it from me to get in the way of a chronic workaholic’s rare indulgence.

“What? Brody, no. Of course it is. You’re incredible.”

He smirks, all dimples and danger. “Geez, stop flirting with me.” His tone darkens into something more dangerous. “If you keep it up, I’ll bend you over and ride that ass real good.”

The heat in his voice—the promise behind the words—burns right through my hesitation. The knot of anxiety in my chest begins to unravel, replaced by something warmer.

He wants me. Right now. Not just my body, but this moment. With me.

“Tempting,” I murmur. “But how about you get on your knees and beg me for heaven instead?”

There’s a flicker in his eyes—surprise, amusement, arousal—and then he drops. Just like that.