Chapter 4
Samantha
We made it three steps into my apartment before Brandon had me pressed against the wall, his mouth on mine again. I grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more contact, more of everything.
His hands slid down my sides, gripping my hips, and I gasped against his mouth. He used the opening to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that made my knees go weak.
"Bedroom," I managed between kisses.
He kissed me again, hard and possessive, then pulled back just enough to look at me. "You sure about this?"
"Are you going to keep asking me that?"
"Probably."
I grabbed his hand and led him down the hallway. Pepper streaked past us, disappearing under the couch. Smart cat.
My bedroom was a mess. Clothes on the chair, books stacked on the nightstand, unmade bed. I didn't care. Brandon didn't seem to notice.
He reached for me again, but I put a hand on his chest.
"Wait."
His hands stilled on my waist. "You changed your mind?"
"No. I just..." I looked up at him, at this man I barely knew who made me feel reckless and hungry and alive. "I don't do this. One night stands aren't my thing."
"Good. Because I don't want one night."
"What do you want?"
"More." He traced the line of my jaw with his fingertips. "As much as you'll give me."
"I need you to be honest with me. Can you do that?"
Something crossed his face. Guilt, maybe. Or conflict. But he nodded. "I'll be as honest as I can be."
It wasn't a perfect answer. But it would have to be enough.
I pulled him down for another kiss. This one slower, deeper. He walked me backwards until my legs hit the bed, and I sat down, looking up at him.
"Tell me what you want," he said.
"You. All of you."
He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor. His body was even better than I'd imagined. Broad shoulders, defined chest and abs, a few scars scattered across his ribs and torso. My fingers traced one of them, a thin white line just above his hip.
"What's this from?"
"Long story."
"Tell me later?"
"Yeah. Later."
I hooked my fingers in the waistband of his jeans and pulled him closer. He made a low sound in his throat as I worked open the button, slid down the zipper.
"Samantha..."
"Yeah?"
"You're killing me here."
"Good."
I pushed the jeans down his hips. He kicked them off, standing in front of me in just his boxer briefs, and holy hell. The man was built like a god.
He reached for the hem of my sweatshirt and I lifted my arms, letting him pull it off. My tank top followed. Then he was pressing me back onto the bed, settling between my legs, his weight a delicious pressure.
"Is this okay?" he asked, kissing my neck.
"Yes."
His mouth moved lower, across my collarbone, down to the swell of my breast above my bra. His hand came up to cup me through the fabric, thumb brushing over my nipple.
I arched into the touch, breath catching. "Brandon..."
"Tell me what you need."
"More. I need more."
He reached around and unhooked my bra with one hand, pulling it off and tossing it somewhere. Then his mouth was on my breast, tongue circling my nipple, and I stopped thinking entirely.
My hands went to his hair, holding him against me as he moved to the other breast. His free hand slid down my stomach, fingers hooking in the waistband of my pants.
"Can I?"
"Yes. God, yes."
He pulled the shorts and my underwear down my legs, leaving me completely bare beneath him. I should have felt exposed, vulnerable. Instead I felt powerful. The way he was looking at me, like I was the most incredible thing he'd ever seen.
"You're so beautiful," he said, voice low and rough with want.
"Less talking. More touching."
His laugh was dark and promising. "Bossy."
"You have a problem with that?"
"Not even a little bit."
His hand slid up my inner thigh, and when his fingers finally touched me where I needed him most, I couldn't stop the moan that escaped.
"You're so wet already," he said against my ear. "Is this all for me?"
"Yes."
He worked me with his fingers, slow and deliberate, learning what made me gasp, what made me clench around him. When he added a second finger, curling them just right, I nearly came apart.
"Not yet," he said. "I want to taste you first."
Before I could process that, he was kissing his way down my body. My stomach. My hip. The inside of my thigh.
Then his mouth was on me and I forgot how to breathe.
He took his time, alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and focused attention that had me writhing against the sheets. When he added his fingers back, moving them in rhythm with his mouth, the orgasm hit me so hard I saw stars.
I was still shaking when he kissed his way back up my body. I could taste myself on his mouth when he kissed me.
"I need you inside me," I said. "Now."
"Condom?"
"Nightstand. Top drawer."
He reached over and fumbled in the drawer, finding the box I kept there for optimistic reasons. When he pulled back to roll it on, I watched, enjoying the view.
Then he was settling between my legs again, the head of his cock pressing against me.
"Ready?"
"I've been ready since you moved in."
He pushed inside slowly, giving me time to adjust. He was bigger than I'd expected, stretching me in the best way. When he was fully seated, we both paused, breathing hard.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Perfect. Move."
He did, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in. Slow at first, then faster as I urged him on with my hands on his ass, my legs wrapped around his hips.
"Harder," I said. "I'm not going to break."
He groaned and gave me what I wanted. Deep, powerful thrusts that had the headboard hitting the wall. I didn't care if the neighbors heard. Didn't care about anything except the feel of him inside me, the way his muscles flexed under my hands, the sounds he was making.
"Touch yourself," he said. "I want to feel you come around me."
I slid my hand between our bodies, fingers finding my clit. The dual sensation of him inside me and my own touch had me spiraling fast.
"That's it," he said, watching my face. "Come for me, Samantha."
The orgasm ripped through me, stronger than the first. I clenched around him, crying out his name. He thrust twice more and followed me over, burying his face in my neck as he came.
We stayed like that for a long moment, both of us trying to catch our breath.
Eventually he pulled out and disappeared into the bathroom to deal with the condom.
When he came back, he stretched out beside me, pulling me against his chest. Through the window, I could hear the city sounds.
Cars passing. Someone's TV through the wall.
Normal life continuing while mine had just turned upside down.
"Samantha?"
"Yeah?"
"I meant what I said. I don't do one night stands."
I propped myself up on one elbow to look at him. "What does that mean exactly?"
"It means I want to see where this goes. If you do."
"I do." The words came easier than I expected. "But I need you to know something."
"Okay."
"I've been burned before. By people who lied to me. My brother, my ex. I don't handle secrets well."
His jaw tightened. "I know."
"So if there's something you need to tell me, now would be the time."
For a second, I thought he was going to say something. His mouth opened, closed. Then he shook his head.
"There's nothing you need to worry about. I promise."
It wasn't quite what I'd asked for. But it was late, and I was tired, and he was looking at me like I hung the moon. I could let it go for now.
"Okay," I said, settling back against his chest.
"Stay here tonight?" I asked after a minute. "Or do you need to go?"
"I'll stay. If you want me to."
"I want you to."
He pulled the blanket over both of us, his arm secure around my waist. I closed my eyes, listening to his heartbeat under my ear.
Sleep was pulling at me when he spoke again.
"Samantha?"
"Mmm?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For giving me a chance."
I didn't answer, already halfway to sleep. But I pressed a kiss to his chest, and I felt him relax beneath me.
***
I WOKE TO SUNLIGHT streaming through the window and the smell of coffee. For a second, I was disoriented, not sure what had pulled me from sleep. Then I remembered.
Brandon.
I rolled over, but the bed was empty. Panic flickered through me until I heard sounds from the kitchen.
I pulled on my pajamas and went to investigate. Brandon was in my kitchen, shirtless, pouring coffee into two mugs. He'd clearly raided my limited supply because he'd made a full pot.
"Morning," I said from the doorway.
He turned, and his expression when he saw me made my breath catch. Like he'd been waiting for me. Like seeing me was the best part of his morning.
"Morning. Hope you don't mind. I needed caffeine."
"Help yourself." I moved closer, accepting the mug he held out. "What time is it?"
"Just after six."
"You're up early."
"Habit." He leaned against the counter, watching me over his coffee. "Sleep okay?"
"Better than I have in months." I took a sip. The coffee was strong and good. "You?"
"Same."
Pepper chose that moment to appear, winding around Brandon's legs and meowing loudly.
"I think someone's hungry," he said.
"She's always hungry. It's her default state."
I got Pepper's food and fed her while Brandon watched, still shirtless and devastating in my kitchen. This whole scene felt surreal. Domestic. Like we'd been doing this for years instead of one night.
"I should probably go," he said after a minute. "Let you get ready for work."
"You don't have to rush off."
"I'm not rushing. I just don't want to overstay my welcome."
I set down my coffee and moved closer, sliding my arms around his waist. "You're not."
He kissed me, slow and thorough. When he pulled back, his eyes were serious.
"Have dinner with me tonight. Let me take you somewhere."
"Like a date?"
"Exactly like a date."
I smiled. "Okay. What time?"
"Seven? I'll pick you up."
"I'm literally next door."