Chapter 8
JOSIE
My lips are still tingling from Brewer’s kiss, every nerve in my body thrumming with desire.
I want nothing more than to melt back into his muscular arms and let the world fall away—stop my overthinking brain from whirring with thoughts and fears.
But I stand my ground, even when he takes my hands in his, those dark brown eyes turning softer than I’ve ever seen them.
My heart is on the line right now.
I can’t risk it all for something uncertain.
“I’m sorry,” Brewer says after a heavy pause. “Really sorry, Josie. I hate myself for making you feel this way.”
I flinch at the self-loathing in his voice. “Don’t say that—”
“Listen to me, beautiful,” he continues, his expression so intense that I feel my breath catch. “I want you. I’ve wanted you since the minute I laid eyes on you. So fucking badly.” He tightens his grip on my hands. “The only reason I go to Creekside every day is to see you.”
My heart somersaults, the world tilting on its axis.
“Then…then why do you ignore me when you’re there?” I stutter.
“Because I know I shouldn’t want you.” Brewer looks pained, his jaw tightening.
“I’m twice your age. A broken old brute of a man.
You deserve better than that, and I know it…
so I tried to keep my distance.” He lets out a rough grunt.
“Did a pretty shitty job of it, I know, but I just couldn’t resist going to the diner every day to see you. ”
His confession hangs in the air between us, and his honesty gives me the courage I need to make my own confession.
“I waited for you every morning,” I say quietly, “but I assumed you weren’t interested. I figured I wasn’t your type because of…you know…my size.”
Brewer’s head jerks back like I just slapped him. He lets go of my hands and grips my waist instead, looking at me in disbelief. “I love your body, Josie. Your curves drive me fucking crazy—you have no idea.”
I search his face for any trace of a lie, any hint that he’s just saying what he thinks I need to hear.
But there’s nothing performative in his expression.
Nothing calculated. Just Brewer, looking at me like I’m something he’s been starving for, his hands moving over my hips like he can’t help himself.
“You’re perfect,” he mutters. “Fuck, it was so damn hard not to stare at you every morning.” His gaze burns me, so earnest it almost hurts. “But I’m looking at you now, sugar. I’m never taking my eyes off you again.”
Something cracks open in my chest.
I was convinced Brewer could never want a woman like me. I’ve spent so long seeing myself as too much—too big, too soft, taking up too much space. But the way he’s looking at me right now, like I’m everything he’s ever wanted, makes me wonder if the story I’ve been telling myself was ever true.
“You really mean it?” I ask him quietly.
“I mean it. You don’t know how fucking beautiful you are.” He pulls me flush against him, and I breathe in his musk, quivering at the feral glint in his eyes. “Let me show you what you’ve been doing to me, sugar.”
The room spins around me, blood pumping hot and fast as Brewer leans in, beard brushing my chin, his mouth barely an inch from mine. He’s so close that I can see the dark flecks in his deep brown eyes, his warm breath fanning my bottom lip.
“Tell me you want this, Josie.” His voice is dangerously low. “I need to hear you say it.”
For a moment I can’t speak at all. Can’t think. My whole body is trembling, heart hammering so loud I’m sure he can hear it.
“I want this,” I breathe. “I want you.”
Brewer makes a noise deep in his throat, something raw and guttural.
Then he crushes his lips to mine. He kisses me like a starved man, our teeth clashing, mouths moving desperately.
His beard is rough against my chin, hands digging into my hips as he lifts me effortlessly off the floor.
A gasp of surprise escapes me, and I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist, feeling impossibly tiny as he holds me in his giant arms and pushes me back against the wall.
“Fuck, sugar,” he murmurs against my lips, “I’ve been dreaming about this since I met you.”
Before I can answer, he’s kissing me again, his hot tongue sliding between my lips.
He tastes like whiskey and something raw and masculine that makes me shiver against him, desire pooling between my thighs.
I’ve never felt this aching need before.
It consumes me, spreading through my veins like fire as Brewer invades my mouth with his hungry tongue.
He pulls back from the wall, never breaking our kiss as he carries me out of the guest room and across the hall into his bedroom.
There, he sets me down on his massive four-poster bed.
I barely have time to take in my surroundings before he’s easing himself on top of me, his giant frame pinning me to the mattress.
Oh God.
This is really happening.
Brewer pulls back to look at me, chest heaving, dark eyes moving over my face like he’s still not convinced I’m real.
Then his mouth finds my jaw, my neck, the soft skin below my ear.
He brushes feathery kisses all over my face as he grabs the hem of my sweater, pulling it up over my head.
As he tosses it to the floor, I feel the familiar flicker of self-consciousness—the instinct to cover myself, hide the softness of my belly, the rolls on my hips.
But I fight it, savoring the way Brewer rakes his gaze over my body.
“Fuck, Josie,” he says roughly.
He sounds like a man in awe as he reaches for the waistband of my jeans, popping the button, and unzipping them impatiently. His hands are full of reverence, the hunger in his eyes setting me on fire as he peels the denim off my skin, leaving me exposed beneath him.
“So beautiful,” he groans. “You have no idea how perfect you are.”
I shudder when he reaches for my panties next.
I’m hyperaware of how soaked they are, my arousal seeping through the fabric.
Brewer makes a noise deep in his throat when he touches them, pulling them off and discarding them with the rest of my clothes on the floor.
Then he dips his head, kissing down my body, his beard brushing my bare skin until I’m breathless.
He drifts lower, trailing down my belly, his giant hands easing my thighs apart.
I gasp when I feel his mouth graze my mound. His hot tongue pokes against my clit, and my whole body jolts at the contact, heat sizzling through my veins.
“You like that, sugar?” Brewer murmurs.
He doesn’t wait for an answer. His strong arms wrap around my thighs and he sinks his head between my legs, latching onto my clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his eager mouth. My back arches off the mattress, a guttural moan escaping my throat.
Oh God.
I’ve imagined this. Imagined him. But nothing I conjured in my head comes close to the reality of Brewer Benson with his mouth on me like I’m the only thing he’s ever wanted to taste.
Instinctively, I tangle my hands through his hair, tugging hard as he works me into a frenzy.
He worships my clit until my arousal soaks into his beard, seeping down my legs.
“Oh, yes…”
With every shudder of pleasure, Brewer adjusts the pressure, the pace of his tongue, like he’s desperate to learn how to make me come undone.
It’s definitely working.
I’m already bucking against him, my legs trembling either side of his head.
“Fuck, sugar,” he murmurs against me. “You taste so good.”
Then I feel his fingers delving between my folds, two of them sliding into me, stretching me around him. He pumps me in a delicious rhythm, fingers curling up, still sucking greedily on my clit.
It’s too much.
I come hard, stars bursting behind my eyes as raw pleasure crashes over me.
Spasms tear through my body, but Brewer doesn’t let up.
He keeps working me with his fingers, thrusting them deep.
My clit is over-sensitive from my orgasm, but he keeps sucking until I climax again, my walls convulsing around his invading fingers.
“Oh, Brewer!”
I’m a mess—sweaty and panting—totally spent as Brewer finally pulls back, his beard glistening with my arousal. His lips are slick, eyes wild as he stares down at me.
“Fuck, Josie, look at you.” He trails his wet fingers over my stomach, cupping my breast, brushing my pebbled nipple with his thumb until I gasp. “You have no idea how sexy you are.”
His praise warms me. I’m naked and vulnerable—exposed as a raw nerve—but I feel so comfortable beneath his gaze.
It feels right. Like he’s the only man who’s meant to see me this way.
But I want to see him too. I’ve been fantasizing for a month about what Brewer looks like beneath all the flannel and denim.
Something tells me the reality will be even better.
“Show me,” I say, my voice a soft plea as I reach up to grab his gray flannel shirt.
Brewer hesitates before he starts to unbutton it. He shrugs it off slowly, and suddenly, I forget how to breathe.
Holy crap.
He’s enormous. I knew that. But knowing it and seeing it are two different things—the broad expanse of his chest, smattered with hair, muscles cushioned by a layer of warm flesh. The tattoos I’ve only ever glimpsed beneath rolled sleeves, sprawling across his bare arms and shoulders.
My gaze drops, and I stare openly as he gets off the bed and reaches for his jeans next, kicking them aside until he’s wearing nothing but his boxers. They’re tented by his bulge, barely containing it, and I feel a deep pang of need between my thighs as he pulls down the final layer between us.
His cock is as big as the rest of him—thick and meaty—lined with veins.
My mouth goes dry as I take it in, trying to imagine how it will feel buried inside me, stretching me apart.
With a shiver, my gaze flits back up to meet Brewer’s.
He’s watching me carefully, like he’s bracing himself, waiting for me to flinch away from his size.
I don’t.
“Come here,” I breathe softly, stretching an arm out toward him.
He doesn’t hesitate. Something shifts in his expression as he takes my hand, his wariness giving way to something raw and unguarded.
He eases onto the bed, covering my body with his, the springs groaning as he settles.
His hard muscles melt against my curves, his eyes fixed on mine as he positions himself between my thighs, breathing hard.
“You’re mine, Josie,” he growls. “All mine.”
He’s right. I’ve been his ever since he walked through that diner door.
And now I know he’s mine too.