Chapter 33 Brie #2
Something between a moan and a gasp escapes. “I want to touch you.” I try to tug my arms free, but he holds fast.
“Nuh-uh,” he hums into the nape of my neck even as his cock presses hard against me, a reminder he’s as affected by this as I am.
“Why?” I whine.
“If I let you go, and you touch me, I won’t be able to hold back.”
“That’s f-ine.” The word turns into a whimper as he sucks on my shoulder.
Goosebumps chase his hot breath on my skin. “It’s not fine. I shouldn’t even be holding you like this.”
My stomach does a somersault. If everything Sawyer’s told me is true, then whatever happens between us means a lot to him. It means a lot to me, too. As turned on as I am right now, the minuscule part of my brain that still holds rational thought says to listen to him.
Rewinding the conversation, I try to pick up where we left off. “When did your so-called obsession start?”
He waits until I look back at him. “Brie, I’m telling you it started the moment I laid eyes on you.
First day of kindergarten, and it only got worse.
Why do you think I always showed up to the first day of class after you, only to sit next to you?
Or picked you to be on my team at gym? Or had all the same electives in high school? ”
The back of my nose starts to sting and I’m forced to blink back unshed tears as I take in his earnest face. I always imagined he did those things to torment me. It turned into that for his own self-preservation, but it wasn’t why he did it. He just wanted to be close to me.
The sound of the chicken sizzling in the pan has us both looking into the fire.
Sawyer kneels to adjust it and add another log.
When he sits back down behind me, my pulse races.
I can feel the warmth emanating off him.
Smell his clean scent. The air is thick between us, the room is silent around us, and in this moment, we’re the only two people on the planet.
I clear my throat in the most unnatural way possible. “It’s lucky you’re prepared to feed an extra person.”
His fingers are in my hair, massaging my scalp in a way that makes me want to purr. My hands trace up and down his calves on either side of me. I force them to stay below his knee despite the insistent press of his hardness beckoning me.
“Oh, that was by design,” he says. “I was cruising around town, looking for scantily-clad, injured women to wait out the blizzard with.”
“How many did you come across before me?”
“At least four.”
I snort. “I’m flattered.”
He leans over and kisses my temple. It happens so fast. My insides turn to mush and I can’t stop the smile from spreading.
“Sawyer?”
I might be imagining the way his breathing kicks up when I say his name, but I get a little burst of satisfaction from it anyway.
“Hm?”
Without thinking too hard about it, I turn in his arms and straddle his lap. He takes in a sharp breath when I lower myself onto him.
“Did you really come in your pants over there?” With a tilt of my head, I indicate where he pinned me against the wall when the tree fell over.
He nods. “And over there.” He jerks his head at the couch. “You tasted too good.”
Need pulses between my legs. “It’s not fair,” I whisper. “I haven’t even seen you yet.”
His hands grip my waist. “You’ve got to stop rocking like that or I’ll come. Again.”
“Good. I want it in my mouth this time.”
Lusty Brie is loose, admitting to things I’ve never wanted before, but I think he likes her based on the intensity in his eyes, the way he holds his breath, his bruising fingers tight on my waist, keeping a precise distance between my crotch and his.
I press my mouth against his ear and breathe, “Wanna try it? I’m aching for you.”
When I pull back, his eyes are shut tight. He pulls in deep, deliberate breaths.
Voice gravelly, he says, “No.”
A smile splits my face despite my body screaming for him.
Hours ago, his response would have been a mortifying rejection.
It was the mortifying rejection that had me running to hide in the bathroom.
Now? It multiplies the butterflies in my belly.
He wants to make it special between us, and he’s hanging on by a thread.
I take pity on him and slip off his lap.
“Soon,” he says.
When the chicken is cooked, it’s one of the better things I’ve eaten, the succulent juice coating the vegetables in a rich broth warms me from the inside.
But it’s the easy conversation and stolen glances that has my cheeks hurting.
If this were a date, I wouldn’t want it to end.
I’m suddenly very grateful for the blizzard.
After we’ve cleared the meal, I go to the bathroom to get ready for bed. The water is ice-cold as I brush my teeth, the tile frigid beneath my feet.
When I come out, Sawyer swaps places with me and I run to where he’s piled blankets and pillows near the hearth. After a few minutes, he stands over me.
He rubs the back of his neck. “Is this okay?”
“Oh my gosh, yes, it’s freezing over by the bed.” Even with a mountain of blankets, it wouldn’t be as warm as here by the fire.
“Yeah, plywood doesn’t provide much insulation. But I mean . . .” he makes a back and forth gesture
Oh. Oh. He’s asking if I’m comfortable sharing a blanket with him, now that we’re in this vague “going slow” territory. It’s a little ludicrous, considering everything else we’ve done and the situation we’re in, but the sweetness of it has my stomach bottoming out.
I snap the blanket back for him. He grins as he clicks off the light and gets in next to me.
He exaggerates a shiver and pulls me into his body.
“Warm me up, it’s cold out there.” He says his words directly into my neck, tickling me and forcing giggles out, which only encourages him to do it again.
“What?” His words are muffled and drowned out by my laughter as his chin digs into the sensitive spot in my shoulder. “It’s bedtime, calm down.”
I wrest my arm free and tug his hair until his satisfied grin is revealed.
“Mean,” I say.
His expression changes. In the light of the fire, his eyes grow darker.
“Can I kiss you goodnight?”
There it is again. That heady feeling that has my skin buzzing with anticipation.
“Yes,” I breathe.
He tightens his arms around me, hands flattening against my back.
His hard body is wrapped around my softer one, keeping me safe.
His eyes, dark like the ocean at night, are attentive on my face as he slowly rolls us until I’m on my back looking up at him.
He smells so good, like masculine soap and toothpaste.
“You’re so pretty, Brie.”
My stomach clenches tight. His nose rubs against mine. Our mouths are an inch away, breathing the same air.
“So fucking pretty.” As he says the words, his lips feather over mine, and I bow under him until our mouths touch.
Somehow, this light kiss is more intense than any of the others.
Those were spur-of-the-moment now-or-never moments.
This is slow and thoughtful and deliberate, like he’s trying to memorize me.
When he lifts his head, I cup his jaw and bring him back to me.
His lips meet mine softly with sweet, suctioning kisses.
His tongue teases the seam of my lips, and I’m all too eager to let him in.
We taste each other with unhurried strokes.
If this is what he meant by going slow, I’m all in.
Eventually, we roll onto our sides. Our bodies are as close as they can be, his erection a hard rod against my stomach.
It sends scorching desire through me. I caress his face, rough with fresh stubble as his hands rub circles over my back.
And we kiss languorously until we fall asleep in each other’s arms.
It isn’t long before I wake up with pins and needles shooting through both arms, still posed at awkward angles.
I run to the bathroom to pee, and by the time I get back, I’m a popsicle.
A half-asleep Sawyer opens his body to me as I return, and he folds me in his warmth, planting lazy kisses on me as he drifts off again.
The last thought I have is: This is what it feels like to be home.