13. Jami #2
“That’s my understanding too,” I murmur, smirking despite the heat crawling over me. “Which is a good thing. We hated that anyway.” I pucker my lips and make a mock noise of disgust, and he chuckles, low and pleased.
He pushes against me harder, and my legs drop to the floor.
Thick fingers curl around mine, anchoring them above my head, pinning me in place.
Heat rolls through me as he roughly rubs against me.
A gasp catches in my throat when he growls and presses hot, wet kisses to my eyes, nose, cheeks, and neck… everywhere except my mouth.
I wiggle and moan, holding his hands tighter, afraid he’ll have second thoughts. Every nerve screams that this is wrong, and yet, oh so right.
“Brody,” I murmur as he shoves a knee between my legs, separating my knees enough to make my pulse spike. Why do I love it so much when he simply takes control of my body?
“Need something, sweet little birdie?” His fingers release mine, sliding down to grip the hem of my sweater. “Arms up.”
I obey, and he drags it over my head, moaning at the sight of my nipples straining against my T-shirt.
“I was wondering…” I shudder between ragged breaths.
He cocks his head, curious. “About?”
He brushes my nipples lightly through the shirt, and I arch into him, moaning, offering myself without shame. My hands follow his lead, gripping my own breasts as if to say, please, take me.
“Do you think… I’m going to hate your mouth here too? I mean…our kisses were just…ick.”
He inhales sharply, momentarily off-guard, and that fleeting loss of control sends a needy shiver through me. I like that I can do this to him. That I can make him break.
“There’s only one way to find out,” he assures me, voice low and sure.
I nod, breath hitching. “I think we have to.”
“We do need to know,” he agrees.
I crinkle my nose, half laughing, half shivering. “I’m sure it will be awful, like our kisses, and we’ll never want to do it again.”
“Yeah. One and done. We walk away. Tension gone.”
I glance at him, heart thudding. “I don’t think we have a choice.”
With a confidence I don’t want to think about, he slides a hand around my back and, with a snap, unhooks my bra. Two seconds later, my T-shirt and sweater drop, forming a growing pile on the floor. The only thing missing from the mound? His clothes.
He steps back, eyes dark with lust—and something that looks dangerously like admiration—just to take me in. My chest tightens, heat pooling low. Holy God. The last time a man looked at me like this was…at a Halifax hotel.
“Brody,” I murmur, breath hitching, and he lifts his head slowly, gaze locking on mine.
There’s a tenderness about him that curls around me when he says, “You’re so beautiful.”
He steps into me again, big hands on my sides, this time with nothing separating his thumbs from my swollen nubs. “I need to do things to you.”
“Yes…please…” My words dissolve as he bends forward, hot breath spilling over my bare skin. I quiver under him, and he holds me tighter, drinking me in.
He lifts me again, using the streetlamp’s light as a guide. We back up, and then…bang.
“Shit.” He curses as he bumps into the side table. The lamp wobbles and crashes to the floor.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He grunts. “Never liked that lamp.”
“Hated it. Didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
We keep moving, and another curse escapes him as his toe catches a chair leg, scraping it across the floor and banging against the window.
“Fucking chair.”
“We should turn on the lights,” I suggest, but then remember—the window faces the street. Any passerby could see us.
“No. Our eyes will adjust,” he mumbles. Eventually, he finds the couch and sets me down, the back of my knees hitting the cushions. A small nudge of his hip, and I settle fully, and he sinks to his knees in front of me.
Strong hands grip my thighs and part them, giving him access, before moving up to cup my breasts. “These…” His thumbs brush over my nipples. “…prettier than I remembered.”
“You remembered them?” I tease, heart hammering.
“Yeah,” he admits, a dark grin tugging at his lips. “Might have entered my dreams a time or two.”
His hands leave my breasts and settle on my thighs. With just enough pressure, he pins me in place, and a thrill surges through me as he takes one nipple into his mouth.
“Brody,” I gasp, forgetting how to breathe as a delicious heat gathers low in my core.
“Breathe, babe,” he murmurs, voice husky against me, his tongue performing a magic act that has every nerve in my body walking a tightrope. He sucks, swirls, and nibbles until pleasure bleeds into an exquisite ache. How does he always know exactly what I need?
I rake my fingers through his hair when he pulls back, dark eyes scanning me like he’s memorizing every curve.
“It was…bad, wasn’t it?” I ask, my voice trembling as my body still craves him.
He crinkles his nose. “Like eating a dry waffle without syrup.”
An aroused laugh escapes me, and he can’t hide the grin tugging at his lips. “I guess it wasn’t great for you either.”
“I thought you were trying to stick Post-it notes to my nipples with your tongue,” I tease, breath hitching.
That earns a full belly laugh from him. He pauses, like he’s trying to visualize it, brow furrowed in mock concentration. “I don’t think I get it.”
“Me neither,” I admit quickly, pushing to my feet, a quivering mess in front of him. “But there are…other experiments we need to conduct.”
Like testing exactly how much I’ll hate—love—having his mouth on me again.
“Yes. There are,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue over his bottom lip. My pulse races, and I grow impossibly wetter.
He grips my hips, guiding me around his body, before settling onto the couch. “How about you take those pants off for me, Jami?”
A squeak escapes me. “You want me to—”
“Strip,” he interrupts, voice low and commanding, and heat spirals straight through me.