Free Wild: Whispering Cove, Book 1 by MacKenzie McKade

her.
    “I’m scared.” The tears in her eyes confirmed it.
    He stroked the soft mound of her abdomen. “Of what?”
    “That if I give in, I won’t be able to walk away.”
    A glimmer of hope sparked and he held onto it. “I don’t want you to walk away.”
    “And I can’t stay.”
    He refused to accept the note of finality in her voice.
    Brody would not stand idly and watch her walk out of his life again. He tugged on his shirt, dislodging it from his pants, before he jerked it over his head, causing several buttons to pop. Toeing off his shoes, he stood and began unfastening his belt.
    Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
    “Getting naked.”
    She licked her lips, her eyes focused on his. “ Brody? ”
    “Join me.” He winked, hoping she would remember. “I’ll even let you chase me up the stairs this time.”
     
    Andrea held her breath as the memory poured over her. Her grandfather had gone on an overnight fishing trip with Errol and Byron, leaving his house vacant. Brody and she had used the hidden key to sneak inside. It hadn’t taken them long to shun their clothes. Laughing, he had chased her up the stairs. They had tumbled upon the bed and he had made passionate love to her—several times.
    The smile that tipped her mouth was involuntary. When she glanced up, Brody stood before her naked as a jaybird. Her jaw dropped.
    Oh Lord. The man had changed in ten years. Last night she had a glimpse at his impressive goods, but there was so much more to him. Time had carved firm, bulging muscles in his arms and legs. His chest was a work of art that only a seasoned artist could have depicted to display an image of strength and vitality. A light web of ebony chest hairs narrowed down a hard abdomen, even lower to guide her sight to the length of him already full and aroused.
    When she ventured a glance at his handsome face, his eyes were dark, threatening to pull her into them. He held out his hand to her.
    Andrea’s heart pounded fiercely against her chest. Her palm itched to take what he offered. Only the knowledge that it would be hell leaving him again held her back. With short, rapid jerks, she shook her head.
    “Touch me, baby.” Brody stepped forward. “Like you used to.”
    The deep purr of his voice was pure, unadulterated sin. The kind of sensuality that made a woman fall at a man’s feet, and it was working just fine on Andrea.
    She fisted her fingers and then splayed them wide.
    Don’t do it, Andrea. Turn and walk away.
    But the man before her was too much temptation. A decadent bounty of masculinity that begged to be explored.
    Before Andrea knew what she was doing, she stood and reached for him. Skin against skin, her palms smoothed over solid biceps, traced the bulging veins. Part of her couldn’t believe what she was doing, and the other part of her didn’t give a damn.
    The breadth of his shoulders, so wide and firm, felt delicious beneath her touch. Something fluttered low in her belly and she pinched her legs together to keep from groaning out loud.
    God help her. She should stop but she didn’t.
    Brody, on the other hand, was the image of calm and control, and she hated him for it. Unlike last night, it was she who trembled, emotions so raw they threatened to shatter at any moment.
    Without hesitation her hands roamed over raised pectoral muscles, weaving through the light mat of hair, and across the tight beads of his nipples. He sucked in a tense breath. That small sound and the fast beat of his heart beneath her palms were the only things that exposed his nervousness. Andrea found some comfort in knowing that his restraint was weakening. Tonight when she fell into the dark abyss, Brody would follow.
    Her fingers danced over his washboard abs, tracing that thin line of hair that swirled around his belly button and further down to where his hard erection jutted between his legs.
    “Touch me, Andie.” A tremor raced through him as he placed his forehead against hers. “Do