Chapter 23
Grace lifted her leg from the warm, bubbly water and slid the razor over her skin.
The owner of the house had graciously provided a basket full of toiletries, the richly scented bubble bath intoxicating her senses and helping her relax.
A cool draft touched the air, the door slightly open in case the boys awoke.
They’d finally fallen asleep after a cranky evening, both of them wanting to be held close and rocked. She couldn’t even pretend to mind. Toby and Theo were a joy to be around, caring for their little bodies and big personalities fulfilling her on a primal level like nothing she’d ever experienced.
Brett’s words and chaste kiss had done something to her, knocking down the last of her defenses against the attraction she felt for him. There was a gentle side to that man that was her undoing, her earlier assumptions about his character having long since fallen by the wayside.
And she wanted him.
God, how she wanted him.
She set the razor aside and picked up the soap, gliding the slippery bar across her chest. It smelled of lemon and lavender, and she sighed, letting her eyes close.
A pulse beat between her legs as his words came back to her. I wanted you so much I almost didn’t give a damn that you’d never had sex before, that it would be wrong to make love to you, wrong to take something you hadn’t given to any other man, even the one you intended to marry.
She didn’t know what it would be like to make love, didn’t know if it would hurt or be frightening or feel good. She thought of the women he brought home to his apartment, virtually lined up for the privilege. If sex felt anything like his kisses, she would happily do it all day.
She sank deeper into the water and hummed softly, her mind considering what would happen when he returned. Would he touch her again, kiss her? Draw her near? More important, how would she respond to him if he did?
With my whole body and soul.
There it was, the answer in the wings, simply waiting for the question to be asked. She would love him for as long as he would allow, getting as close as he would let her, virginity be damned.
A small noise at the door had her opening her eyes.
Brett stood in the open bathroom doorway, his hungry stare taking in her buoyant breasts and bent leg, peeking through the bubbles.
The heat from his gaze kept her riveted in place, a momentary desire to cover herself stifled by the intensity of his perusal.
“Sorry,” he said under his breath, leaving as abruptly as he’d appeared. She sat up, water sloshing as the door closed behind him.
Her heart was pounding, heat flooding her face and chest. She let the water out of the tub and got out, wrapping a thick blue towel around her torso and seeking him out before she could stop herself.
He stood with his back to her, gazing out the window to the lakefront beyond. The storm had passed, the moon illuminating patchy clouds in the purple sky, but she could sense a storm of a different kind in the way he held his body. “What happened?” she asked.
“They’re mine.” He was quiet for a moment. “I found a letter Joni had written to me. The twins are mine.”
She walked up behind him, admiring his silhouette, wondering about the torment beneath his perfect physique. “That’s good news.”
“Is it?”
“Absolutely. You’ll be a good father to them.”
He didn’t move, didn’t turn around to face her. “Grace, I’m sorry I went in there. The door was open and I… I’m sorry.” He hung his head. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
He was emotional, she could hear it in his voice. Dangerous, she could see it in his stance. And when a part of her wanted to back away, she closed the distance between them and placed her hand on his back, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt. “It’s okay.”
She slid her hand lower, skimming the muscles of his lower back. His head came up, but he didn’t stop her, making her feel brave. She pressed her lips to the fabric between his shoulder blades, inhaling his scent and longing to take away the pain that was a tangible presence in the room.
“Don’t do this unless you’re sure,” he said quietly, the words vibrating in his chest. She slipped her hands around his waist, holding him to her, and trailed kisses across his shoulder blade. He grabbed her wrist, his grip belying his obvious strength.
She went up on her tiptoes and pressed her breasts against his back, whispering in his ear, “Sure as I’ll ever be.”
He spun around so quickly she nearly lost her balance, but his arm came around her, strong as steel. “This isn’t a game. Don’t tease me.”
The first stirring of fear trickled down her spine as she lifted her eyes to his.
He was an expert in a world of physical affection she’d never set foot in.
She was a child playing with a wild animal, her naiveté about to get her mauled and left for dead in the thick of a deserted forest. Still, she persisted, her body insisting she not change her mind. “I’m not teasing.”
His head came down as he hauled her against him.
He kissed her, taking control of her mouth as surely as he was taking control of her body.
There was a powerful undertone to his careful ministrations, the sweep of his hand over the swell of her hip, and she was scared despite the desire that snaked through her belly.
His mouth moved to the sensitive hollow of her neck. “Grace,” he ground out against her skin, and she threw her head back to grant him better access. He felt good, better than any man before him, her heart racing with excitement as he fisted her towel with his strong hands.
The knot at her breast slipped, the towel loosening in an instant. She grabbed at it, desperate to keep herself covered, and Brett watched with profound interest as she hastily hid her body from view.
His eyes were dilated, his breath coming fast. The moment stretched out between them. He took a step back and grabbed his mouth with his hand, squeezing his bottom lip as if to wipe the taste of her away.
She’d fucked up, and she knew it, flinched when a more experienced woman would have dropped the towel to the floor. Heat filled her cheeks and she wished she were anywhere but here, clinging to her towel with this man eyeing her like one too many bad decisions.
But if she ran away, she would miss out on loving this man with her body, never know what it felt like to be with him that way. The thought lit the wick of desperation, setting it aflame. She wanted him, needed to know what he knew, wanted him to be the one to show her.
It was Brett she wanted to be with, Brett she wanted to show her the way. She lifted her chin. With more bravado than she felt, she loosened the knot of the towel at her breast and let it drop to the floor.
“You shouldn’t be near me right now,” he ground out. “I don’t have the strength to walk away. Not today.”
She took a tentative step closer to him. “Was it hard, being there?” He nodded stiffly. She gently stroked his cheek. “I’m sorry.”
He grabbed her hand, holding it in midair. He was bigger than her, stronger. “I don’t want you to comfort me, damn it. I want you to kiss me.”
He was aching, the pain coming off him in waves.
She knew instinctively sex was the way he could express himself, that loving him with her body was the only way to sooth the ache that burned him from the inside out.
Going up on her tiptoes, she did as she asked, touching her tongue to his and opening herself to his exploration.
She pulled her wrist free of his grip and slid her fingers into his hair, the movement fitting her body against him. He took over the kiss, exciting her and cajoling her to deepen her response to him, and she knew.
He could teach her. He could show her how good it could be between a man and a woman, what sex was meant to be like.
Gone would be the rejection, feeling like she wasn’t good enough or desirable.
She could tell he was just as aroused as she, and in that moment the wounds of her experience began to heal.
She let her hands skim down the hard planes of his chest, his abdomen, then slipped around his waist. She fisted her hands in his shirt, pulling it from the waistband of his jeans before stroking the muscled contour of his lower back.
He groaned deep in his throat, and she felt more powerful than she ever had with a man. He lifted his head, his ragged breath a testament to his excitement. “You’re sure?” he asked.
She’d never been more sure of anything in her life. She nodded. “Yes.”
He took her hand and led her to the bed, following her body down. He hauled her to his side, her legs opening to him as their mouths met hungrily.
She was dizzy with desire, hot and eager for what came next. His big hand cupped her breast, kneading it gently before taking the peak softly in his mouth. She gasped, surprised little sounds mixing with a sweet, keening moan at the sensation.
He kissed her stomach, his tongue outlining her navel before moving lower, her trepidation rising as he settled between her legs. Her legs jerked awkwardly with anxiety.
“Relax,” he murmured. “I’m not going to hurt you.
” Turning his head, he kissed her inner thigh, slow, tender kisses designed to calm her and get her used to him being so close to her like this.
When her hip relaxed and her leg fell loosely to the side, his fingers inched upward, exploring the sensitive crease between her legs.
She was breathing heavily, whether from fear or excitement, she couldn’t tell. He ran his finger gently back and forth until she whimpered in clear invitation for more. His finger slipped between her swollen lips, carefully fingering the entrance to her body before sliding up to her clitoris.
Her breath caught as he stroked her skillfully, the sensation feeling better than any had before. “Brett…”
“You like that?”
“Yes.”
Then his mouth was where his fingers had been, his tongue lapping at her sensitive bud, her shock at the bold intimacy of the gesture mingling with the most intense pleasure. Her legs fell open, all tension in her muscles releasing at the sensations coursing through her.
His finger again explored her entrance, teasing and tantalizing her with the promise of something more. He was going to slip that finger inside her, and she wanted him to, but he was toying with her, making her beg. “Please,” she whispered, and his finger slipped inside.
She bucked against him, pleasure rippling through her at his invasion as he lavished her with his tongue, rhythmically massaging her swollen sex and coaxing her closer to orgasm. Her hips twisted against the mattress, her moaning growing louder before her body arched like a bow.
She longed for him to join her completely, but he stayed where he was, stroking her softly as the storm subsided, then moving to lie beside her in bed, lifting his arm so she could come close.
She cuddled with him. “Wow,” she said.
He chuckled in the darkness, his fingernails trailing along her back as he kissed the top of her head. Still she wanted more. Her hand grazed his chest, moving lower until it reached the waistband of his jeans.
“Grace—”
“I want to make you feel what I feel,” she whispered.
“Tonight was about you.”
“But I want—”
“Shh…” he soothed.
She went quiet and still. He wasn’t going to take his pants off, wasn’t going to make love to her after all.
Embarrassment at what she’d let him do burned like a glowing ember.
It was one thing as a prelude to lovemaking.
But this? This was throwing a bone to an angry animal to get her to leave you alone.
She moved out of his embrace, suddenly cold.
He came up on his elbow. “Where are you going?”
She wrapped her towel around her but didn’t meet his stare. “Nowhere. I’m stuck right here, remember?”
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” She picked up her clothes from the dresser.
He sighed heavily, lying back on the bed. “You’re obviously mad at me. I’d like to know why.”
She pulled her shirt over her head, quickly following with her underwear and leggings.
“Why would I possibly be mad? You got me off, so I have no further need for you.” She turned and looked at him, anger and disgust warring for the upper hand.
“Isn’t that right? I mean, clearly you thought an orgasm was all I was after.
It’s not like any woman could ever want more than an orgasm from the great Brett Champion. ”
He sat up abruptly. “Now wait a minute. You’re upset because I made you feel good in bed?”
“No, asshole. I’m upset because you did what you had to do to get out of the situation, then stopped. I’d rather you’d never even touched me.”
“I was being a gentleman.”
“You were being a selfish bastard.”
He shook his head, clearly exasperated. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I want you, damn it! I want to be with you, and instead you gave me a consolation prize and pushed me away.”
“I was trying to do the right thing.”
She pointed at him. “I am not a child in need of protecting!”
“You’re a virgin.”
“So what? Does that mean I don’t get to decide for myself who and what I want? You’ll sleep with every other woman in town, but I get a pat on the head and a sticker? Fuck you, Brett.”
There was a darkness in his stare, but for once, she didn’t care. Screw him if he thought he could intimidate her right now. She was past the point of angry, past the point of shy.
He threw back the covers and crossed to her, his jeans slung low on his hips. “Do you know what I wanted more than anything tonight?”
She shook her head, the hair on her arms standing on end. He stood toe-to-toe with her, her head thrown back to see his face. “No.”
“I wanted to make love to you.” His gaze held hers. “I wanted to do it so bad. I still do.”
“Screw you.”
“Come back to bed, Grace. Please.”
She turned away, torn between what she wanted and her righteous anger.
“I’m sorry,” he said, threading his hands into her hair, the nerve endings on her scalp coming alive at his touch. His voice was like velvet, promising the one thing she wanted before all others. “Come back to bed, and I’ll show you how it’s done.”