One Night With a Hero Page 13

  His expression shifted. For a moment, she would’ve sworn he was terrified. His eyes went wide and wild. A tingle of oh shit fluttered through her stomach.

  He stepped right into her space and cupped his hands around the back of her head. “It’s all ruined now,” he rasped.

  “What is?” She curled her fingers around his wrists, needing to hold him back, even though she knew she should stay away. He was dangerous to her heart, her ego. And he didn’t know…

  “Everything.” Heat and need slipped into his gaze, though it didn’t replace the wildness. The look promised to devour her. Despite herself, Joss’s body responded, her nipples peaking inside her clothing.

  Suddenly, they were kissing. She didn’t know if he’d leaned down or she’d pushed up. Their tongues twirled and fought. Their hands squeezed and tugged. Their bodies pressed and rubbed.

  And none of it was enough.

  He pushed her back one step, another, until her spine encountered the wall beside the front door.

  Joss was instantly wet, even as the certainty coursed through her that this was a bad idea, a bad way to resolve whatever was troubling Brady so deeply. But another part of her yearned to comfort him, to help him forget, to give him a hand over whatever yawning emotional gorge he was staring down, even if for only a short while. Stupid, given what he’d done the last time she’d entertained such feelings. But she hadn’t yet been able to resist him.

  And now that she carried his baby, it was harder than ever.

  “I need you,” Brady rasped against her lips. Joss nodded. “I’m sorry—”

  “Talk later,” she murmured.

  Hands fumbled at buttons and zippers. He tugged her shirt up and her pants and panties down. They pooled at her ankles. She kicked her heels off and her clothes away as he shoved his jeans and boxers to his knees.

  Breathing hard, he kissed one eye, then the other, then her nose, then the corner of her mouth. The adoration warmed every cold place inside her. His fingers slipped between her legs, teasing, stroking, spreading her slickness. “Turn around, Joss.”

  A hot thrill shot through her. She turned her back to him and braced her hands on the wall.

  Brady gripped her hips and pulled, forcing her to bend over. And then he was in her, filling her, stretching her. Joss cried out at the erotic invasion.

  “Jesus,” he growled. “More amazing every fucking time.”

  He started moving then, a slow pace that had him trembling. Joss got the distinct impression he was struggling to hold himself back, to control how much he needed this, needed her.

  “Let go, Brady. Just let yourself go. I can handle it. I’ve got you.”

  His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips. “Joss,” he rasped.

  “Let go.”

  He did.

  Brady hammered into her so hard she had to spread her feet to steady herself. The sound of his hips slapping against her cheeks filled the room. The frenzied pace set her body immediately on edge and held her there until the sensation was deliciously painful.

  And then he wrapped himself around her. One hand gripping a breast and the other her shoulder, he hunched himself over her body and came at her with a series of quick, deep strokes she felt everywhere.

  A single moment of imagining what they must look like with his big body curled around hers so possessively had energy barreling through Joss’s center, making her wetter, shoving her closer to a shattering orgasm.

  The room was filled with their soundtrack—his rough, panting breaths punctuated by occasional groans, her higher-pitched moans and whimpers, the wet sound of their bodies crashing together over and over. The way he was all over her made her feel claimed down to her very soul. Even though this was rough and fast and dirty, Joss felt that something important was passing between them. Something far more intense than the last time they’d been together.

  His need felt like a tangible presence in the room.

  Brady’s hand slipped from her breast and settled between her legs. His fingers flicked over her clit in time with his deep, hard thrusts.

  Out of nowhere, Joss’s orgasm slammed into her. She cried out and wrapped an arm around his bicep, afraid she was going to fall.

  “Fuck,” he bit out. Holding her so tight now she struggled to breathe, Brady came, his hips still moving in halting strokes as he poured himself into her. His harsh breaths feathered over her shoulder. For long minutes after their bodies were spent, they remained in the same position.

  His head thudded against her shoulder.

  She reached back and dragged her fingers through his hair, and he nuzzled into her neck, dropped kisses behind her ear. His arms wrapped around her so tightly, she wasn’t sure if he was embracing her or holding on for dear life. “Joss,” he whispered, his breath caressing her skin.

  Her heart raced as much from hope as the physical exertion she’d just experienced.

  This time felt different. This time he wasn’t pulling away.

  The thought gave her the courage to say what she’d come over here for in the first place.

  “Brady?” She rubbed his arms.

  “Yeah?” He kissed her shoulder and pulled away. Thoughtfully, he handed her his clothes and then put his back together.

  Joss watched him as she redressed. He appeared as shaky as she felt, like the sex, the connection, had affected him as deeply.

  “I need to tell you something, okay?”

  He nodded and reached for her, his arms wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her in close. He kissed her hair.

  Her heart squeezed, and she took a deep breath. Now or never. “Okay.” The words sat on the tip of her tongue, hung there. She tried to shove them out, but they wouldn’t budge.

  Brady pulled back enough to meet her eyes. Such anguish. “What is it?”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  His eyes went wide and he shook his head. “You’re what?” he bit out, his voice full of disbelief.

  Cracks snaked across the surface of her joyful hope. “Pregnant. I—”

  His eyes narrowed to ice-cold slits as he stepped away. A storm rolled in across his features. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” His nostrils flared, and his hands fisted.

  The cracks grew wider, more numerous, weakening the very ground beneath her feet. Dizziness threatened to swamp her.

  Oh, God. His words made it hard to breathe. He’d never talked to her like that before. Her muscles ached from the effort to stand her ground, hold onto her shattering hope. “Brady—”

  “You told me you were on birth control.”

  The accusation came through loud and clear, making her stomach toss, making it obvious he didn’t care—not about her or the baby. “I am on birth control. I don’t know how this happened. I just know that it has.”

  He grabbed the beer off the table. “How do you know it’s mine?”

  Her head swam, her hope in a flat-out free fall now. “What? I can’t believe you just said that.”

  A furious red climbed up his face. “Why the hell wouldn’t I? If you’d have a one-night stand with me, what’s to say there haven’t been others?”

  The room’s walls buckled and went wavy. She clutched at the nearest one for support. “I told you the truth about my history,” she said, her throat tight, eyes stinging. “I hadn’t been with anyone for over six months before you. And there’s been no one since.”

  He scoffed and muttered under his breath, then took a long pull from the beer bottle.

  Asshole. “I can’t believe—”

  “What exactly is it you want from me?”

  Joss shook her head and retreated a full step, her arm coming around her stomach. “Want? I don’t want anything. God. You know, I didn’t expect you to be thrilled about this, but I didn’t think you’d be such a prick about it, either.”

  He held out his arms. “I am what I am. Regretting me yet?”

  Rage and hurt flooded through her veins in equally scorching amounts. She turned and
walked out the door.

  A crash sounded from behind her, but no freaking way was Joss going back to see what it was. If she never saw Brady Scott again, it would be too soon.

  Anger tugged at every muscle in her body until she thought she’d snap in two. It flowed through her, demanding release, but there was nothing, nothing she could do to vent the horrible, suffocating mass of it. Even worse, her house’s proximity to Brady’s made it impossible to give voice to one note of her pain. She refused to chance giving him the satisfaction of hearing how his words had torn her apart.

  His rejection of her was one thing—she’d been discarded so many times she was now a pro at it. But to reject this child? This completely innocent and defenseless being growing inside her?

  No. No.

  Her son or daughter would never taste even a single crumb of the rejection and abandonment Joss had swallowed by the mouthful her whole life.

  Over my dead body.

  She paced around her house until she thought she might go crazy. She wanted to go somewhere. Anywhere. Despite the hour, she picked up her phone and dialed.

  “Hey,” Christina answered.

  “Hi,” Joss rasped, restrained tears making her voice waver.

  “Oh, no.” Christina knew from their conversation over dinner that she was considering telling Brady tonight.

  “Yeah.”

  “Bastard. I’m coming over.”

  Joss shook her head, swallowed hard. “No. I was wondering…could I—”

  “Yes. Come any time. My spare bedroom is your spare bedroom. Are you sure you can drive?”

  She batted away a runaway tear. “Yeah. You don’t think Tony will mind?”

  “Tony loves you. You know that. He’ll be glad to see you.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  “Joss, drive safe.”

  “I will. See you soon.”

  When they disconnected, Joss was in motion. She packed two days’ worth of work clothes and a set of pajamas. Panties, toiletries, brushes, and makeup went into her bag next. She grabbed her favorite pillow off her bed, and then, downstairs, she gathered her purse and keys.

  She threw everything into her truck and tore out of the lot before she chanced even a spare look in the direction of Brady’s house.

  The farther away she got from him, the more she could breathe.

  …

  Thick stands of trees and farm fields heavy with overripe corn flashed by as Brady made his way up Interstate 270 to Frederick, the town where he’d been born and grown up. The town where his bastard of a father now lay cold and dead in a metal drawer.

  Ahead of him, Marco and Alyssa rode in Betty. Brady had met them at their new apartment first thing that morning, but they’d agreed to take separate cars so it would be easier to accomplish the various tasks the next few days might entail.

  The only problem was that his solitude left him no reprieve from the memory of the horrible way he’d treated Joss.

  Pregnant.

  Jesus Christ.

  When the word had first fallen from between her soft pink lips, Brady couldn’t believe his ears. No way the universe would be so capricious, so twisted, so cruel as to give him the very thing he could never let himself have on the very day he learned once and for all he couldn’t have it.

  Confronting his father, unleashing the words he’d buried deep down inside himself, seeing the old man’s expressions as Brady made him understand everything his actions had wrought—these were supposed to be his way up…out…through… He didn’t even know the right way to describe it. Just free. Free of the hate and the anger and the pain he’d slogged through these past ten years.

  But, no, Brady hadn’t heard wrong.

  After the words sank in, agonizing rage petrified every part of his brain save the portion responsible for his fight-or-flight response. And fight he had. He’d flung one emotional grenade after another until the only woman he’d ever cared for—ever wanted—was bruised and battered and bloodied.

  And yet she’d stood.

  Brady’s heart squeezed in his chest. For a long moment, he struggled to breathe.

  She’d stood up for herself. For her child.

  Their child.

  His child.

  My child.

  The very thought flushed shards of ice through his veins and shredded his insides with fear. The one thing he knew—the only thing he knew—was that no child deserved to grow up in a house filled with anger and anguish. And right now, Brady was drowning in them. And he couldn’t see clear to the shore.

  Up shit’s creek without a paddle.

  He nodded to himself. That about summed it up.

  Finally, their caravan arrived at Marco’s parents’ house. They lived in a red brick colonial on the other side of the neighborhood from where Brady and Alyssa had lived. He felt the presence of their childhood home like a fog hanging heavy in the air, chilling and disquieting. Some time in these next few days they were going to have to face it.

  When he rounded the back of his truck, Alyssa was walking down the driveway. She came to him and wrapped him in her arms. He returned the embrace.

  “What’s this for?” he asked.

  “Because we both need it.”

  He squeezed her for one last moment and then led them to the house.

  Nick Vieri was out the front door before they’d made it up the sidewalk. Tall and dark, one look at him and you could never deny he and Marco were related. “Brady, Alyssa.” He hugged Aly tight and whispered words of condolence. Brady extended his hand. Nick accepted it and pulled him in for a hug, as well. “I’m sorry about your loss, son,” he said.

  Brady stepped back. “It occurred years ago.”

  “Yes,” the older man said, his bright blue eyes sympathetic and kind. “Come on in. Do you have bags I can help with?”

  Brady grinned. “Marco can get them.” A hand smacked the back of his head. Brady spun on his heel to find Marco glaring at him. “What was that for?”

  “Your lazy ass can help me.”

  Alyssa rolled her eyes. “Are you two twelve?”

  “Pretty much,” Brady said.

  “Sometimes,” Marco said at almost the same time. He tugged her into him, making her laugh.

  Inside, the house smelled amazing, like garlic and fresh, warm bread. They made their way into the kitchen and found Lily Vieri setting the table with a feast for twenty. She’d always had a knack for making anyone feel right at home. She turned and smiled. “Hi, kids.”

  One by one, she gave the three of them hugs and kisses, ending with Marco. She rubbed his forearm, the one heavily scarred from an explosion and multiple surgeries. “How are you feeling?”

  Marco’s expression was soft as he looked down at his mom. “Better and better.”

  She squeezed his hand and pulled him farther into the kitchen.

  The five of them sat down to a feast of homemade lasagna, garden salad, and garlic bread. It was the best meal he’d had in months—except for Joss’s waffles. He shoved the thought away and allowed nostalgia to curl around his shoulders as he thought of all the meals he’d enjoyed at this table over the years. Even before his mom died, he was a regular fixture at the Vieris’. Afterward, well, this house had become more than a home away from home. It had become a safe haven.

  As everyone finished their meals, the conversation turned to the situation that had brought them all together again.

  Nick leaned back in his chair. “So, how can we help? What part of this can we take off your shoulders?”

  Brady looked between Nick and Lily, and then to Alyssa.

  “Alyssa and I talked yesterday. Neither of us wants the house.”

  “I have a good friend who is a Realtor. I’ll be happy to call her,” Lily said.

  Brady nodded. “We…I guess…” He met Alyssa’s gaze. “We’ll go through it, first. See if there’s anything we want.” He had no desire to step foot in the place, but he knew Aly was hoping some of their mom’s belonging
s might still be in the house. Doubtful, but worth the look, for her. “The rest can be donated or thrown away.”

  Lily nodded. “She can arrange for the place to be cleaned out. We can handle those details.”

  “Thank you,” Brady and Alyssa both said.

  Alyssa rested her forearms on the table. “We have an appointment first thing in the morning to go to the funeral home. We know he already has a burial plot next to our mother. But as far as holding a service or a viewing or anything, do you think anyone would come?”

  “People will come for the two of you,” Nick said.

  Brady’s gaze dropped to the table. The air sucked out of the room, and he felt like he was about to crawl out of his skin and had to get out from under everyone’s eyes to do it. “This was delicious as usual, Lily.” He rose from the table. “I’ll grab our things from the cars.” Without waiting for a response, Brady excused himself from the table and bolted for the front door.

  He walked around the far side of his Land Rover until he was shielded from the view of the house, and fell heavily back against the quarter panel. The kindness and compassion the Vieris extended felt undeserved with the guilt over the way he’d treated Joss weighing on him so heavily.

  Footsteps approached from the driveway. Brady heaved a deep breath and crossed his arms.

  Nick rounded the back of the truck and fell into place beside Brady. Marco had inherited his quiet intensity from this man, so Brady knew he was working his way toward saying something.

  Finally, he spoke. “This is going to be harder for you than for Alyssa, yes?”

  Frowning, Brady turned his gaze to the older man.

  “She’s grieved many times before now, but you never have.”

  “What is there to grieve?” Brady said, defensiveness rising like high tide within him.

  Nick’s blue eyes were piercing. “Lie to Alyssa if you must, son, but don’t lie to yourself.”

  Brady turned away.

  Nick pushed off the truck and clapped Brady on the shoulder. “Why don’t we get the house over with this afternoon? You three can ride in your truck and I’ll drive mine. That’ll give us enough cargo space in case there are things you and Alyssa want to bring home.”

  Brady met his gaze and nodded, trying like hell to prevent even a whisper of his anxiety from shining back at the other man. “Yeah.”