Under My Umbrella (Fated 1)

He’d given her an orgasm with just a few thrusts of his fingers and a couple of swipes of his thumb. Hell, he’d almost given her an orgasm just by touching her breasts. He’d lavished so much attention on them she’d been on the verge from the moment she felt that first lick of his magic tongue.

Hmm, magic tongue, magic lips, magic hands and fingers—the guy had it all. Now she wanted to see that magic naked. Though there had been something sexy about her being completely nude while he was still fully clothed. She’d slipped her hand into his pants and copped a feel and boy, had that been worth it, but now she wanted to see the goods. Wanted to touch them and lick them and suck them too.

Brett didn’t protest her suggestion. She watched with unabashed interest as she lay sprawled across her bed, her back propped against the pile of pillows. He stood at the foot of the bed and shrugged out of his T-shirt, revealing delicious flat abs crisscrossed with delineated muscle, gorgeous pecs and silky dark hair in the center of his chest. She wanted to smack her lips with glee at the sight of him. And that was just the top half.

He hadn’t even gotten to the good stuff yet.

His dark gaze never left hers as his hands settled on the open fly of his pants. He shucked the belt buckle, yanked it free from the loops on his pants and it fell onto the floor with a loud clang. She studied the peek of black cotton underwear beneath the spread fly, the thrust of his erection pressing against the fabric. Anticipation curled through her, and she sat up straighter, her interest increasing tenfold.

Twentyfold, one hundredfold. Lord, he knew how to tease. The spark in his dark eyes told her he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

Torturing her, that’s what. She almost wanted to bark out orders to get this moving.

Take your pants off! Underwear next! Come closer so I can get a close up of that delicious cock of yours!

Oh, yeah, as if she’d ever say anything like that. The man made her think foolish thoughts.

Silly, fun, sexy thoughts. The smile that tickled the corner of her lips couldn’t be held back, and she let forth an unabashed grin.

“What are you smiling at?” With a single push of his hands, the pants fell from his body, down past trim hips and thick thighs.

“You,” she answered simply, holding back a giggle when he realized he still had his boots on.

Big black work boots too. He stood before her in his boxer briefs and with his pants around his ankles, looking kind of foolish and more than a little desperate to get them off.

The giggle escaped when he turned his back to her with a muttered “excuse me,” and sat on the edge of the mattress. When he bent over to untie the laces, she admired the smooth, tanned slope of his back.

Jenna had to touch him. Maybe it wasn’t proper but—oh, my God—he was temptation personified. Getting on her hands and knees, she crawled toward him, brushed her lips against the middle of his back, along his ridged spine. He stiffened for the briefest moment before his entire body relaxed, and she got up on her knees, wrapped her arms around his neck. Her breasts pressed into his back, her mouth against the strong column of his neck, and she heard the chuckle rumble in his chest.

“Can’t resist me?” he teased.

“I was hoping you couldn’t resist me,” she teased back, amazed at how light and easy it was with him. With her last serious boyfriend she hadn’t felt this comfortable, certainly not when they’d first started dating and having sex.

Maybe it was easier because she didn’t know this guy. They didn’t have those expectations a couple sets upon each other once they started seeing each other exclusively. What they were experiencing was just about sex.

That was it.

Perfect.

“You’re right. I can’t resist you,” he said, his hand coming up to stroke along her forearm. She shivered from his touch, giggling again when she watched him toe one boot off then the other before he kicked off the offending pants. “Let me go so I can take off my socks.”

“No way.” She shook her head, her hair brushing against his face. It was wild, she’d caught a glimpse of it on the way out of the bathroom as it hung halfway out its ponytail but she couldn’t worry about it.

Brett didn’t seem to mind.

With a slight shrug, he bent forward and she went with him, her breasts smashed against him, her lower body settling against the small of his back. She considered grinding on him but held herself in check.

For the moment.

He pulled off his socks and then sat up, turned his head so his face was level with hers, his lips so close she pressed a nipping kiss to them.

“Are you one of those insatiable types who can’t get enough?” he asked, his expression serious.

She leaned away a bit and studied his face. What sort of question was that? And was she the insatiable type who couldn’t get enough?

Any other day and she would’ve answered she was the average woman with an average sex drive. Nothing too outrageous, but she wasn’t a nun either.

Today though, with Brett, she’d had the urge to jump him since she set eyes on him. Wanted him to quit talking and start touching.