Free Broken Heart 05 Over My Dead Body by Michele Bardsley Page B

his wife. They faded out of sight in a shower of gold sparkles.
    “That’s a neat trick,” said Brady.
    “The perks of being sidhe and vampire.” I let go of Brady’s hand long enough to turn and lock the garage and then the office. Then I dropped my keys into my pocket. Brady led me past his Vulcan (sexy, sexy now), walking around the back side of the building to my little truck. Flet was in a much better mood than I thought possible, especially after getting bullied by us mere humans. He flitted this way and that, exploring the area without a care in the world.
    “So, we’re still on for tomorrow?” asked Brady.
    “Of course.” We loitered near the truck. Even though I needed to get home, I was reluctant to start the trip. Brady’s eyes were on me.
    Nerves plucked my stomach like a harpist pulling on gilded strings. Wait. This was Oklahoma. Think Johnny Cash strumming the opening chords to “Walk the Line.” That was me. My stomach wobbling. My heart trying to thump (and failing). My knees knocking. Hoo, boy.
    “Time to say good-bye, I guess,” I murmured.
    “I had something different in mind,” whispered Brady.
    “Like what?”
    “Hmm.” He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving mine. I might not have a heartbeat, but I could hear his. Thudthudthud. How could Brady possibly be nervous about approaching me? It gave me such an odd thrill to know that I affected him as much as he affected me. I had never considered my own feminine power. I had been with only one man my whole adult life. Jacob. And I’d never felt . . . well, giddy with him.
    Brady invoked emotions that I’d thought forgotten. I understood lust, though I don’t think I’d ever experienced it. Wanting Jacob was the same as wanting security. I needed to be taken care of, directed, and loved. At least, I thought he loved me. Honestly, I didn’t know anything about love—not the kind of love I saw between couples like Jessica and Patrick. A real, healthy relationship—that was something I didn’t know how to cultivate at all.
    Well, well, well. Hadn’t I decided Brady was gonna be fun? God. I couldn’t just have a fling, and I knew it. I didn’t want to back out, but I wasn’t sure I could go forward, either. Stuck between a rock and a hard place—or rather a bruised heart and a handsome man. Same difference, really.
    “Where do you go, Simone?”
    “What?” I blinked and found Brady leaning against the truck, mere inches from me.
    “You do that a lot.” He tapped my temple. “You just . . . wander away.”
    “I have a past,” I blurted. Shit. Why’d I say that? Well, then. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I go there, even though I don’t want to. I’d rather forget it all.”
    “We all have pasts. We all have regrets, too.”
    “I know.” I dared to reach out and touch his shoulder. Warm. Firm. Muscled. My fingers drifted down his arm and back up again. I placed my palm against his neck, felt the rapid pulse that beat there. For me.
    My fingertips skirted his jaw. His skin felt rough, the shadow of a beard protesting my light touch. Brady’s nostrils flared and his eyes darkened. He didn’t make a move, though. He let me touch him. His heartbeat revved again; his muscles tensed. Patience was not his virtue. Brady was a warrior. He was a man who went after what he wanted—the hunter, the conqueror, the hero. And yet he stood there, every part of him bristling with the need to take the lead, and let me do as I wished.
    Excitement spiked in my stomach.
    Or was that terror?
    Something primal and hot kicked up inside me. Had I said I hadn’t felt lust? Brady sure inspired a lot of it. I want to wrap myself around him and just . . . nibble. Lick. Taste. The thought of piercing his throat with my fangs made hunger twist inside me. I could smell his blood; hear its rhythm as it pulsed through his veins. Brady was my aphrodisiac. For some reason, when I thought of feeding on him, it didn’t squick me out. In fact, it