fingers slipped under the hem of her nightie, trailing over her skin in the same path he’d suggested she trail the icy treat. Reading the words again, she edged her panties aside and let her fingers go to work.
Nothing cold here.
* * *
I hope you like cherry. Because that’s the only flavor Popsicles I like.
I’m all sticky now. I need a shower. You can watch, but you can’t join me yet. I’ve turned the water up so hot, the room is filling with steam. The shower nozzle is set to pulse. Fast, hard bursts against my skin, water droplets sliding down my aching flesh. I want you still. But you’re not allowed in the shower. So while you watch, I’m going to pleasure myself and pretend it’s you. I’ll take the showerhead off its hook and slide it down my body. The water pools between my breasts, gurgling and bubbling before pouring down my body. I’m wet. And not just from the shower.
What would you like to do about it?
BRODY DIDN’T KNOW whether to damn Genna Reilly, or worship her. She’d got him into hot water when she was a teenager, now she had him living under a cold shower.
Brody ran a towel over his head, the rough terry soaking up the droplets and quickly drying his short hair.
Just the thought of a shower brought to mind Genna’s last letter.
Of course, so did taking a shower. Seeing water. Hell, just breathing had the words flashing through his brain.
Scowling, Brody threw the towel on his bunk and grabbed his fatigues, shoving one foot in, then the other with enough force he was surprised the fabric didn’t rip.
He wasn’t writing her back.
This whole crazy game had to stop.
If he didn’t respond, neither would Genna.
And they could both get back to living their lives.
He didn’t fool himself into thinking he’d forget about the letters over time. If he closed his eyes, he could still remember the taste of her that night in the garage. He could still hear her soft cries of pleasure and see the rosy flush on her skin. Ten years hadn’t dimmed that memory.
So, no. The images weren’t going anywhere.
But the game was.
Brody finished dressing on autopilot, his brain ricocheting between the plan for the coming mission and every contingency. Their strategy was solid, they’d be solid.
“Lane. Heads up. The helo is ready to fly.”
Brody nodded. All suited up now, so was he.
Time to rock and roll.
Habit had him glancing around before shutting the locker, making sure he’d left no traces of anything personal. Nothing was left out except the letter. Brody grabbed it, ready to tuck it away with his few personal effects. But it was like Genna’s loopy handwriting was curled around his fingers, not letting go.
Damn. Brody felt like a fool.
He looked to the left, then to the right to make sure he was alone. He grimaced at his behavior, then pulled the letter from the envelope to read it one more time.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
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