He chuckled, shrugging out of his shirt and tossing it on the chair across the room. “Guess I was a late bloomer.”
Her eyes met his, blazing—wanting—making his body hard for her.
He reached for her, his hands cradling her face as he kissed her. Softly at first, gently. But that apparently wasn’t enough for India. Her fingers twined into his hair. She arched into him, pressing the swell of her breasts against his chest. She wanted more, and he would give it to her.
He nipped her lower lip, exploring the rounded contour with his tongue and teeth while his hand slid up, brushing between her shoulder blades. A gasp parted her lips and gave his tongue access. The heat of her mouth and sweep of her tongue was the last coherent thought he had. On and on it went, her lips fastened to his. Her hands sliding over his chest so she could wrap her arms around him.
One second she was holding him close, the next she was pushing away—and pulling her shirt up and over her head. He watched, mesmerized by the display before him. A lacy peach bra covered her breasts. The scrap of fabric was more modest than most bikini tops, but it was the sexiest damn thing he’d ever seen in his life.
Made even sexier by how fast she wriggled out of it.
And still, all he could do was stare at the gift she was giving him.
“Damn, Goldilocks. You’re so beautiful.” He ran his fingers along her temple and into her long blond hair.
She smiled, a blush stealing across her cheeks as she leaned into him, the shock of being skin to skin emptying his lungs. And when his hand cradled the full weight of her breast, he was gasping for breath again. She moaned at the brush of his thumb against her nipple. Her eyes fluttered shut when his mouth and tongue explored the sensitive tip. “Brody,” she whispered.
His name from her lips had him aching. He kissed her again, crushing her against him as he lay back against the couch.
“Ow.” She arched up. “Ow,” she repeated.
He pushed off her.
She sat up and pushed on the couch. “Damn spring.”
Damn spring or no, there was no denying he had one hell of a view. She was frowning, breathing heavy, lips swollen from his kisses, with her hair falling around her full breasts.
“You okay?” he asked.
She stood, took his hand and led him into the next room. Her bedroom. She cast a quick glance his way.
“You said you wanted me to hold you, India.” He tilted her head back. “That’s all I want.”
She bit her lip, her gaze sweeping over his chest and face. “It’s not all I want. I mean, I do, want that...but now...” She paused, stepping closer to him. “I’ve never felt this before, Brody. Never ached like this.”
How the hell was he supposed to argue with that? And what the hell sort of man had JT been? India was a passionate woman. She’d come alive under his touch, giving pleasure and taking pure, unfiltered joy in receiving it. That he made her feel something she’d never felt before was a gift he wasn’t going to take for granted. He did that. And they were just getting started.
She shimmied out of her jeans before he realized what she was doing.
He swallowed, studying every inch of her. The swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips and the dip of her waist. She was beyond imagination. This was the woman he’d always loved. And now she wanted him.
As soon as he’d kicked off his boots, jeans and boxers, he scooped her up and laid her back on the bed. He could have stared at her all night, but she gripped his arms and tugged him down on top of her. The bed squeaked and dipped.
“Careful.” He laughed, bracing himself before he squished her.
She laughed, too, her hands reaching up to cradle his face.
He shook his head, loving her laugh, loving her smile and the spark in her gaze. He bent to kiss her, the fire between them burnin
g bright. He was throbbing with want. And love. Damn but he loved this woman.
“You’re beautiful India,” he whispered.
“So are you.” She smiled as she tugged him down to kiss her. He was happy to oblige. His lips and tongue trailed from her lips to her neck, her neck to her shoulder, and her shoulder to the valley between her breasts. He wanted to take his time and learn every inch of her. But the urgency between them was undeniable. And when he sucked one pebbled nipple into his mouth, her fingertips bit into his hips and pulled him close.
He moaned when her legs parted for him. And when he was buried deep inside her he moaned again. This time, so did she. It was more than he could ever have anticipated. Every thrust was a shock, blindingly hot and intense. Being one, lost in her, felt right.
Her head fell back, a blissful smile on her face, as she held on to him. He watched, marveling at the shift of emotions on her face. She was lost in this—in them. Her hands roamed his body. The rasp of her breath fanned against his chest. She hooked a leg around his waist and arched to meet him. And fell instantly apart. Her cry was soft—almost surprised—as her body tightened around him.