Chapter 13 #2
“No. Brett, please. I’m… You haven’t hurt me. I’m not in pain. I just…” She leaned forward—brushed her lips across his. “Kiss me.”
He furrowed his brow, looking as if he was going to stand up, regardless of her request, when she moved. Pressed her mouth to his, ran her tongue along the seam then dipped inside.
Heaven. Just like in the bathroom. Spicy heat and coffee and that taste that was all Brett. It filled her senses, drew her under. He only hesitated for a second before he was all in. Hands roaming across her body—under the shirt. Skin on skin as she shifted closer. Tried to climb onto his lap.
Brett shook his head. Pulled back enough to gain her attention. “Easy, sweetheart. Let’s slow it down. Get you comfy so we don’t aggravate your side.”
“My side’s fine. It’s the rest of me that’s burning up. I need you.”
“And you’ll get me, just not too rough.”
She frowned. “Are you sure you’re not making excuses? Maybe you aren’t really interested—”
He crushed his lips on hers. Silencing her. Stealing what little breath she’d managed to suck in. Hard, lethal eyes stared back at her when he finally pulled away, that dangerous gaze keeping her from moving. From doing anything other than sitting there. Breathing.
He grabbed her hand, jammed it over his cock. Hard. So damn thick, she couldn’t encircle his width. She squeezed, and it jumped against her palm. All that slick fluid sliding along her skin, making her hiss out her next breath.
Brett growled. That’s the only way she could describe it. Low. Guttural. Primal in its intensity.
He ran his fingers over hers, keeping one hand locked on his shaft, then lifting the other to cup her chin.
“There’s no hiding how much I want you. Kissing you.
Touching you. Sliding inside and feeling you come all over me.
But... If you start moaning in anything other than pleasure.
If I suspect, for one second, you’re in pain, it doesn’t matter how hard my dick is, sweetheart, how desperately I want to ride you.
Watch your eyes roll back, feel you clench around me.
I won’t be able to continue. Couldn’t live with myself if I knew I’d hurt you.
So... Stop being stubborn and lie back. Let me take us both there. ”
He lifted her hand off his shaft, placing it gently on the bed, while smoothing his other hand along her thigh. “Christ, I could touch you for hours. Spend a week just on one leg, alone.”
His fingers worked beneath her shirt, lifting it. Dragging it up her body so achingly slowly she had to bite back a curse. “And your stomach. It would take a whole month. Memorizing every rib. Every inch of soft skin. Mapping out your ticklish areas. How your freckles connect.”
He dipped down, nuzzling the top of the bandage. “Kiss every bruise, every scar, every tiny blemish better.”
A few more inches up, and the shirt sat just below her shoulders. Hiding nothing, just a piece of cotton that was in the way. Keeping her from feeling all of him pressed against her.
He hummed, kissing the underside of one breast, making her breath hitch, not that she’d been breathing.
Had been able to do anything other than sit there, willing oxygen into her through some form of magic spell since he’d put his hand on her thigh—started the kind of seduction she knew would undo her.
Bind her to him in a way that went beyond dangerous.
“And here…” A quick swipe of his tongue over her nipple, nearly sending her into a hard climax. “Years required to do you justice.”
A lift of his hands and the shirt disappeared.
Over her head then fluttering to the floor behind them.
Had he even raised her arms? Torn it off?
Had there been a hidden zipper or Velcro she’d missed?
She couldn’t remember. Everything blurring into the brush of his mouth, his hands, his skin across hers.
He eased her back, fanning her hair out across the pillow, making sure it wasn’t tucked beneath her back. Pulling against her shoulders. He took his time, running his fingers through the length. Curling the ends around his knuckles. “So soft. Like your skin.”
God his voice. Low. Throaty. Washing over her like a physical caress. He was desperate. She heard it in the pitch. The way he blended some of the words together, as if his brain wasn’t quite functioning.
Good, hers wasn’t. It had stalled the moment he’d kissed her. Just fried. No signals getting through other than how hot he made her. How she might not survive when he finally sank inside.
And she wanted him inside. Moving hard. Fast. Her ankles notched in the small of his back, his arms holding her still as he pounded into her. All that power and strength flowing between them.
His fingers touched the inside of her thigh. Right where it joined her mound. So close to that pinpoint of heat, she couldn’t stop from lifting her hips. Pressing into his hand.
He smiled. “You’re soaking. God, I love how you respond. Can’t wait to feel you unravel against my tongue. Ready, sweetheart?”