Pleasure With Purpose (5 page)

Bra
d
glance
d
a
t
th
e
televis
i
o
n at
th
e
sam
e
tim
e
sh
e
did.
Michael Dougla
s
lace
d
hi
s
finger
s
int
o
Sharo
n
Stone'
s
hair
,
kissin
g
her
wit
h a
passio
n
bor
n
o
f
lus
t
an
d
need
.
Dampnes
s
pooled
betwee
n
he
r
leg
s
at the sexy scene, at the reality of being next to naked, with Brad a few feet away. With thought
s
of
Bra
d
touchin
g
an
d
kissin
g
he
r
i
n
th
e
mos
t
intimat
e
o
f
ways.

Again
,
t
h
ei
r
eye
s
move
d
i
n
unison
,
towar
d
eac
h
other,
catchin
g
mid-air, electricity darn near weakening her knees. An
d
th
a
t
wa
s
whe
n
sh
e
kne
w, when she had the answer to her question. He
w
a
nte
d
he
r,
too.

Oh
,
yeah
,
thi
s
wa
s
different than anything she’d ever seen in his stare, this was a look of pure, unadulterated lust that he’d been hiding behind a big brother routine. No more. No more hiding. Before she could talk herself out of it, Heathe
r
walke
d
towar
d
th
e
couc
h
an
d
directl
y
toward Brad
,
slowl
y
allowin
g
he
r
hip
s
t
o
sway
,
lovin
g
th
e
empowered
feelin
g
o
f
bein
g a
woman.

Hi
s
eye
s
fol
l
owe
d
he
r, his expression tightening, his body stiffening with uncontrollable tension–desire, hunger.
H
e
cle
a
re
d
hi
s
throat
,
almost
nervously
.
“Mayb
e
yo
u
shoul
d
pu
t
o
n
som
e
clothe
s
be
f
or
e
we
ge
t
int
o
m
y
reaso
n
fo
r
bein
g
here.”

“
I’m not in the mood for clothes,” she said, sitting dow
n
o
n
th
e
couch
,
crossin
g
he
r
legs.
Spreadin
g
he
r
arm
s
wid
e
a
s
s
h
e
reste
d
the
m
o
n
th
e
bac
k
of
th
e
couch
, with one tingling nipple still right there, right in plain view, and begging for this man to look, and touch, and taste.

Long seconds passed, before he finally said, “W
e
need
_{t
o
talk
,
Heather.”}

“
You have my full attention,” she assured him, the proof of the statement in the ache between her thighs. “So talk.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed. “Get dressed, Heather.” He
grabbe
d a
rob
e
hangin
g
o
n a
nearb
y
rac
k
an
d
tosse
d
i
t
t
o
her.
“Put that on.”

She set the robe aside. “No.”

Thei
r
eye
s
me
t
an
d
held
,
smolderin
g
sexua
l
tension
chargin
g
th
e
air
.
Sh
e
wasn'
t
goin
g
t
o
pu
t
o
n
th
e
rob
e
an
d
he
kne
w
it
.
He
r
messag
e
wa
s
spelle
d
ou
t
cle
a
rl
y
i
n
her
actions
,
o
r
lac
k
thereof.

Checkmate.

_{You
r
move
,
Brad.}

Chapter Four

Wha
t
i
n
th
e
hel
l
wa
s
Heathe
r
tryin
g
t
o
d
o
t
o
him?

Neve
r
mind
.
He'
d
figur
e
i
t
ou
t
later
.
Afte
r
sh
e
go
t
dressed.
Sh
e
neede
d
t
o
pu
t
clothe
s
o
n
he
r
way-too-temptin
g
body.
Now. “
Put the damn robe on.”

He
r
expressio
n
darkene
d
an
d
sh
e
pushe
d
t
o
he
r
feet,
breast
s
bouncin
g
wi
t
h
th
e
movement, that damnable deliciously sexy nipple poking out of her bra. An
d
h
e
looked
.
He
couldn't help it. He was a man, pure and simpl
e
. A man she was freaking killing.

Eye
s
blazin
g
wit
h
th
e
hea
t
o
f
anger
,
sh
e
said
,
“Don'
t
order
m
e
around
,
Brad.
”
He
r
well-manicure
d
finge
r
point
e
d
a
t
him.
Hi
s
gaz
e
fixe
d
o
n
he
r
delicat
e
l
i
ttl
e
hands
,
tryin
g
t
o
focu
s
on
somethin
g
safe
,
somethin
g
othe
r
tha
n
he
r
nearl
y
nake
d
body. Instead, he thought of those hands on his body, around his cock.

I
n a
swif
t
mov
e
forward
, a last, desperate effort to do what was right,
h
e
grabbe
d a
rob
e
o
n
th
e
bac
k
of
th
e
couc
h
an
d
shove
d
i
t
towar
d
her
,
ar
m
outstretched.
Distanc
e
bein
g
th
e
objective
.
Reachin
g
fo
r a
calm
,
unaffected
voice, he said, “Put the damn robe on.”

Sh
e
stare
d
a
t
th
e
rob
e a
moment
, then f
inally yanke
d
th
e
piec
e
o
f
sil
k
f
ro
m
hi
s
hand
,
an
d a silent
than
k
yo
u
whispered in his head. Giving himself an
imaginar
y
pa
t
o
n
th
e
back
,
h
e
prepare
d
t
o reel in his body, to move back to proper neutral ground. Then, the robe pooled at their feet. He sucked in a slow, calming breath that failed miserably to be calming. “Heather..."