gaze slowly makes its way back up to my face. There’s nothing more sensual than watching a man struggle to keep himself in check when he’s looking at you, nothing more arousing than seeing his eyes darken with desire and his tongue slide out to lick his lips because you know he’s thinking about kissing you.
I can feel the heat from his body radiating off of him since we’re sitting so close. All I can think about is pushing him back on the bed, straddling his hips, and feeling him between my legs, rubbing against this ache that has blossomed into full blown need.
“It’s nothing, just a bruise. I’ve had worse.”
Dropping my hand from his face, I jump up from the bed and stalk to the middle of the room, needing to put some distance between us so I can gather my bearings and think straight.
He can’t stay here. I’ll never get any sleep or be able to concentrate on anything, but there’s no way in hell I can tell him that.
“Whatever you’re thinking in that pretty little head of yours, you can stop right now. I’m not leaving. Not until that asshole is behind bars,” Brady states, standing up from the bed and walking towards me.
“I hate this. I hate feeling helpless. I hate feeling like I have to rely on other people to protect me,” I tell him angrily, trying to focus on something other than how good he looks standing half naked in the middle of my bedroom in bare feet like he belongs here.
“You’re not helpless,” he argues softly.
“Yes I am! He HAD me. I couldn’t move my arms. I couldn’t get away. I couldn’t do anything but let him drag me away and do whatever he wanted to me.”
I let the anger flow through me, preferring it much more right now than the desire of moments ago or the fear from this evening.
“You were in shock and scared to death. You can’t blame yourself for not being able to take a man down that was three times your size. The important thing is that I got there in time.”
Laughter laced with an edge bubbles out of me, and I and roll my eyes.
“You’re not always going to be there. What the hell happens the next time?”
He clenches his hands at his sides, and his body tightens even more than it already is.
“There won’t be a next time. You can count on that.”
His voice is low and deep, and I can tell he means it. I believe that he means it, but he isn’t Superman. He can’t be everywhere at once, and he can’t stop every threat that comes my way.
“But what if you aren’t?”
I can see the battle he’s waging with himself, and I instinctively move closer to him, wanting to soothe the rage he obviously feels when the thinks about not being there to keep me safe.
“You can’t attach yourself to my hip, Brady. I’m a public figure and I have a demanding job that goes along with it. You can’t be on stage with me, in my dressing room with me, or next to me for every interview or fan meet-and-greet I do.
“Teach me,” I tell him, a sudden idea occurring to me.
He looks at me questioningly, pursing his lips as he rolls the idea around in his head. I can see him getting ready to tell me no, to reassure me that he won’t leave my side, but I need this. I need him to understand and to help me.
“I feel powerless enough on a daily basis with my life. Please show me what to do. Teach me how not to be so defenseless. I need to feel like I have control over something,” I plead with him.
Brady rubs his hand against the back of his neck and sighs and I know I have him.
“You weren’t helpless when he had his arms around you,” he finally says.
He drops his hand from his and neck reaches out to grab my shoulders, turning me around so that my back is to him.
He steps closer until I can feel his bare chest against my back, his mouth near my ear as he bends down to speak, his hands still holding onto my shoulders.
“He may have had your arms pinned,” he tells me, sliding his hands down my arms and then wrapping them around me, “but you still had a very powerful weapon at your disposal.”
My heart rate picks up, and my mouth suddenly feels dry