Free Walk On The Wild Side by Jami Alden Page A

out and limp as a wet rag.
    Minutes or possibly hours later, she stirred against him and mumbled something against his chest.
    “What’s that?” he said as his hand stroked lazily down her back.
    She braced her elbows and lifted her head. “I asked if that was another heart attack,” she said with an impish smile.
    He chuckled and raised his head so he could reach her mouth. “I think that one was more like a stroke.”
    He rolled to the side to relieve her of his weight. Her blond curls tickled his skin and he couldn’t resist the urge to bury his nose and take a deep inhale.
    Damn she smelled good. All flowery and citrusy, mixed with the deeper musk of sex. His hand trailed up and down the silky skin of her back, savoring the curves and hollows as she rested her soft weight against him.
    Satisfaction permeated every cell, making his limbs heavy and boneless. Satisfaction and something else. Contentment?
    He wasn’t familiar enough with the emotion to be sure. All he knew was that for the first time in as long as he could remember, he didn’t feel that sense of restlessness, the need to be on the move, on the go, constantly proving himself.
    He let out a contented sigh and settled his hand on the sweet curve just above her ass. His eyes drifted closed, his breath deepened as sleep tugged at him.
    “Brady,” Molly’s whisper tickled his ear.
    He gave a sleepy grunt of acknowledgement,
    “Brady, you should probably go now.”

Chapter 4
     
     
    Molly was up with the sun at 6:30 sharp the next morning. The late night and fitful sleep after Brady left were no match for her internal alarm clock, which had been hardwired over the years of getting up to cover the breakfast shift at Adele’s.
    Ugh. The post wedding brunch wouldn’t be served until 8:30. She rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but it was no use.
    Which left her with two hours to toss and turn and churn over what had happened the night before.
    She had done it. She’d slept with Brady. She almost wouldn’t have believed it herself, almost would have chalked it up to a very hot, very vivid dream.
    But, as she’d discovered in the shower, it was all there in black in white, or, more accurately, in black, blue, and red in some places.
    Her breasts and belly were faintly red from the rasp of his beard, and they stung a little when they were hit by the hot spray of the shower. There were light, finger size bruises on her hips, which brought immediately to mind the way Brady had held her in his firm grip, grinding himself inside her as he came.
    The memory made her nipples tighten as heat rushed through her, making her wish she hadn’t asked him to leave so quickly after round two.
    She shook her head and turned the water to cold, trying to blast away the heat of arousal as much as the memories of the night before.
    It had been the hardest thing in the world, asking him to leave. It had felt so good to be snuggled up against him, his big, muscular form radiating heat as his hands stroked over her skin. It made her feel warm and safe and oddly cherished.
    Which was ridiculous, she reminded herself. Brady didn’t cherish her any more than the legions of others that had passed through his sheets.
    Molly was just getting carried away because it was so different from having someone immediately get out of bed and head to the kitchen for a beer.
    So she nudged him out the door before she got too carried away and started letting herself think that this was anything more than it was.
    Besides, given what it was, it wouldn’t do to let anyone see him leaving her cabin in the morning. She wanted to keep this simple. Giving people something to gossip about was a surefire way to complicate things.
    She got out of the shower and dressed in jeans and a sweater, bracing herself to see him again at breakfast. She briefly contemplated skipping the whole thing all together and avoiding any post hookup awkwardness.
    Not an option because as maid of honor she was