Chapter 9
I f someone had asked him this morning whether he’d be stretched out next to Brigit Walker on his motel bed, he would’ve laughed, then tormented himself with the fantasy.
Now if they’d told him he’d be fully clothed and so would she and they’d both be on top of the covers, well, that was in the realm of believability.
“If you could be anything you wanted to be when you grow up, what would it be?” he asked, turning his head. Brigit was staring at the drop-tile ceiling, one hand on her stomach and the other above her head. Her shirt did nothing to suppress the way her breasts jutted upward.
She furrowed her brow and turned to him. He couldn’t ignore the punch of her stare, or how it diverted blood from his contented stomach. Flipping to his side had the effect of bringing him closer to her.
She rolled onto her side. They were face-to-face, inches away. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Always.” She could tell him anything. As long as she didn’t give him the silent treatment for another ten years.
“I didn’t even apply to law school.”
“No fucking way. Did Joan lose her shit?”
“She doesn’t know,” she whispered. She worried her lower lip, her gaze growing serious.
“Maybe at one time I actively wanted to be a lawyer, but when I got to school, I had nothing more than a passing interest in law. I didn’t want to do it for a living.
Except…” She pursed her lips. “Another secret?”
“Hell, yeah. This is better than fireman gossip.”
She giggled. “I got an animal science minor when I did my bachelor’s. And I finished the major when I was in business school. Mom and Dad have never seen my transcripts. They just sent the money I needed.”
“What did Oliver say?”
“I never told him.”
The warm glow that ignited inside of him was instantaneous. She felt comfortable enough around him to reveal major details about her life that she couldn’t admit to her mom and hadn’t admitted to her fiancé.
“So in a perfect world”—not Moore, he knew without asking—“you’d be a rancher.”
She nodded and lay her head on the bed, crossing her arms. The angle looked awkward, but she hadn’t moved away. “In a world where I had land and money and lived in a town that’s full of nothing but good memories. Now, I’m relegated to magazines and the Sunday farm and ranch morning show on TV.”
“Are all the memories bad?” he asked softly.
“Truthfully? There are a lot of good ones, but my mind does this cool trick where it fixates on the teasing. On the comparisons to my brothers. And the feeling that I have nothing here to build a life with.” It was like slow motion.
She unfurled an arm and touched the side of his face.
“But I have some memories that I return to. They involve a guy. He used to sneak into my room, and I could tell him anything.”
He caught her wrist and turned her arm. Gently, he pressed a kiss to the base of her palm.
“I’ve missed that guy—for so long.”
“I missed you too.” He caught her gaze. “That is, if I’m the guy.”
Her lips curled. “Maybe it was you.”
He growled and tugged her close. “Let me help you remember.”
Sliding his arms around her, he rolled her to her back and spread himself over her. Their legs were twined together, and his body lit up like a Christmas tree. Desire surged though him and her happy sigh only encouraged him. Their clothing did nothing to dampen the effect on his body.
Dropping his head, he caught her mouth in a long, slow kiss. She tasted sweet, branding the flavor of pumpkin pie into him. It would forever be his favorite dessert.
Sweeping his tongue inside her mouth, he was met with her eager licks but he kept his pace slow, sensual.
This wasn’t the rushed first time of teenagers.
He was a man holding the woman of his dreams in his arms. This no-frills motel was as good as the Ritz.
The comforter might as well be goose down instead of a threadbare secondhand quilt.
She opened her legs and rocked into him. He fit her perfectly. The strength in her legs only made him think of how tightly she could clench around him when she was coming. And the way her breasts pressed against him—what would they be like unrestrained, waiting for his touch, begging for his mouth?
Tunneling his hands under her shirt, he lifted it up at the same time. She broke the kiss to help him, also rolling up his shirt until they had to break apart while she swept her top off and he did the same with his.
The material cupping her creamy flesh was teal, like her eyes, with a lacy overlay that let her nipples play peekaboo. Pulling down the bra, he sucked one peak into his mouth as he wound his arms around the back of her to undo the garment.
She sighed when her breasts popped free, and he tossed the bra off the side of the bed.
His pants were tight, cutting into his erection, amplifying the throb.
He was living out his dream. All those years ago, he’d convinced himself that he wanted one more chance, and he thought he’d walked away from it that night in the bathroom.
His chance was now, and he’d been lying to himself.
One time, a million times, it wouldn’t be enough with her.
It would be impossible to get enough of her.
And it wasn’t because their time together was limited.
He was going into this with his eyes wide open.
She planned to move. He planned to stay.
But they were together for now after being apart for so long.
She arched her back into him, murmuring his name.
The flush he loved was back in her cheeks and his ego preened at being the one to put it there.
Her lips were parted, and her hair was mussed as she gazed at him.
Keeping the contact, he kissed his way down the satin skin of her stomach.
She squirmed as if hit with a sudden pang of self-consciousness, but he was determined to cure her of that.
“You’re beautiful, Bridge.” He flicked the button free on her pants and slowly ran the zipper down. “I want to see all of you.”
Her gaze flicked to the lamp with its thick shade and its weak attempt to light the room. Her throat worked like she had to think about it.
“Would you be more comfortable if I was naked too?” Rearing up on his knees, he undid his jeans and stripped them off, underwear at the same time. Next came his socks, because as comfortable as he was in his own skin, wearing nothing but a pair of socks wasn’t the epitome of sexy.
She sucked in a quiet breath. “That’s not making me feel better, Caleb.”
“I’m just a normal guy.”
Her gaze dipped to his straining erection. He’d never been harder in his life, and her gaze was like a roaring fire licking over dry logs. “There’s nothing normal about you.” She feigned a curious look. “Do you work out?”
He chuckled and hooked his fingers over the waist of her pants and tugged. “Sometimes.”
She propped herself on her elbows as he worked her bottoms down. He stopped partway, when she was bared to him. Her legs still trapped in the material, he planted a kiss on her exposed flesh and inhaled the sweet, musky scent of her desire.
“I don’t know if I’m going to last. Just looking at you makes me feel like I have no control over my body.
These curves you’re self-conscious about are the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.
And I’d think that if you ate twelve more pies.
A day. For years. And your height. My God, Brigit.
Those legs? I can’t get enough of you. I think you’re beautiful. ”
“I—” Her mouth worked, but no other words came out. Shattering vulnerability cascaded through her features before they settled again.
She wiggled out of her pants and pulled him over her, her hands cupping his face. “No one’s ever made me feel like you do.”
He kissed her but couldn’t continue until he addressed the only concern he had before taking this further.
“I have a condom in my wallet, but it’s been there so long it might not be the best quality.
” He’d never been the type to scrounge through town looking for sex, but he also never tried hard to be boyfriend material.
The only regret he had about any of that was that not having a fresh condom might put a stop to this moment.
“I’m… I went to the doctor the day after the breakup. I felt so dirty that I wanted it all checked out.” Her eyes flashed fire. “And I made sure to tell them why. But they didn’t find anything wrong and I’m still on the pill.”
“I never go without protection, but we’ll use what we’ve got.” He rolled away to grab his wallet off the end table. The condom was on in no time and he had no idea how his hands didn’t shake.
When he was done, she tugged him back and brushed her thumb along his lower lip. She opened herself to him. He shifted his hips until his cock slid through her wetness, but he didn’t push in right away.
This night was about taking his time. And being with Brigit was going to test his ability to last beyond a few pumps.
He pressed his lips first on one side of her mouth, then the other. Tasting her was becoming his new favorite activity. This time when he moved down her body, he teased her other nipple. She writhed under him, but he steadied her with a hand at her core. So wet. For him.
“Caleb.” The need in her voice, the near whine—she was in as bad a state as him. Good.
“I’ll take care of you.” He kneeled between her knees and skimmed his hands up her inner thighs, pressing them farther apart.
The dim light of the room cast shadows across her damp, glistening curls.
He planned to squeeze every second out of this moment as he lowered his head and licked through her slit to her clit.
Her moan filled the room and she arched her back.
He held her to him and licked and sucked, changed tempo, altering his rhythm.
Just as she was about to crest, her body tight, her knees drawing up, he backed off.
“You’re a tease,” she gasped.
The second time he brought her close to the brink, he backed off the pressure and slid a finger inside. Liquid heat gripped him, and she moved. He let her set the pace, just along for the ride.
She twisted her hands in his hair as she rode his palm. Heat flooded from her as she threw her head back and cried out.
He didn’t move as she shuddered in bliss—he was committing the whole experience to memory.
Some people called Brigit the Ice Queen.
In high school, they’d joked that she couldn’t be homecoming queen because she’d already built her own ice palace to reside over.
But Brigit was anything but frigid. And she trusted him to see this side of her. It was humbling.
He understood this woman, just like she seemed to understand his need to be wanted by one person over all others.
Since he’d lost his grandparents, he’d been adrift.
He had friends. His coworkers were a makeshift family he saw a few times a week.
He trusted them with his life, and they did the same with him.
This was different. Brigit didn’t have to be here. She wanted to be here. With him. They weren’t just hanging out as friends. She’d given herself to him.
Crawling up her delectable body, he couldn’t quit touching her, with his hands, his mouth, his body.
“That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” he confessed.
“That was…the most amazing thing to experience.” She tilted her head, her hair fanning out behind her. She was his angel, if only for tonight.
Lust pounded through him. It was like his body could only be so giving and generous before he turned into a selfish hedonist. He needed relief, but the desperation was only because this was Brigit.
None of his past experiences, not even those with her, factored into tonight.
He couldn’t remember them if he tried, but he did know that he’d never had such tenuous control over himself.
He held himself at her opening, rocking his hips to wet the tip of his cock. Nothing but pleasure for her.
She cradled him, wrapping her legs around him. He thrust inside, the air squeezing out of his lungs as pleasure blazed over his shaft, coalescing at the base of his spine. Good God, he wasn’t going to last long.
She adjusted to his size, each wiggle of her hips sending him closer to the edge. Her little smile wrenched his heart. “No, nothing normal about you.”
A long, tortuous groan escaped him. He tried to keep from thrusting like a fool. “This is… I… Next time, I’ll last. I promise.”
He started pumping. She met him with equal force, their skin slapping together, moans and grunts echoing through the room.
His whole body tightened, and he threw his head back.
One more push, two, and he was jerking his release inside of her, every quiver and clench of her body extending his rapture.
Eventually, his shudders subsided, and he collapsed into the warm cocoon of her body.
She ran her hands over his back, into his hair, and peppered her lips along his face.
This moment. It wasn’t his home or hers, the room itself was a stale sauna, and he doubted his best friend would thank him for causing a rift between Brigit and her parents.
Yet somehow, this moment was perfect. Only one question overshadowed his bliss.
What could he do to make sure she didn’t walk away from him—again?