His hips pressed her to the mattress, but he kept his considerable weight on his arms, looming over her in the flickering light. Sweat sheened his chest. He was breathing like a marathon runner, his eyes glazed with hunger. She whimpered as he ground his pelvis into hers, putting maximum pressure on the tiny bundle of nerves that controlled her release.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, needing to be closer still. This was what she wanted, what she had dreamed of for years. And the reality far surpassed her limited imagination. She hovered on the edge of climax.
She wouldn’t have objected if he had maintained the incredible sequence of penetration and release all night. It was that good. But his body got the best of him. She felt his sudden tension, heard his muffled shout, and then groaned with him as he took his release in a rapid-fire series of thrusts that toppled her over the edge, as well, into a starburst of sensation that seemed to last forever. Trent Sinclair was well worth the wait.
Trent felt remarkably similar to the time he’d been half trampled by one of his father’s prize bulls. He could barely catch his breath and his heartbeat wouldn’t slow down, no matter how much he tried to relax.
In contrast, Bryn slept in his arms like a limp, weary, dark-haired temptress. He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek and sighed. He was in big trouble, because now that he’d had her, there was no way in hell he’d be able to let her walk away. She was his. That much he knew with a visceral, inescapable certainty.
He looked down at their bodies. The way she clung to him was natural. Right. His arm tightened around her waist, and he wondered how long a gentleman would let her sleep before instigating round two.
He wasn’t a completely terrible son. His cell phone was in his jeans pocket, so if Mac woke and needed anything, Trent was accessible. But the truth was, Trent and Bryn had the whole night to themselves, and some invisible, pivotal moment had occurred…though he wasn’t quite sure what it all meant.
Bryn was almost a virgin…if there was such a thing. Her body hadn’t accepted his willingly. She’d been fully aroused, no doubt about that. But he’d had a difficult time penetrating her incredibly tight passage.
Which must mean she had gone without sex for a very long time. And that picture sure as hell didn’t jive with Jesse’s description of Bryn as a seducer and a promiscuous teen.
He tucked the quilt around her bare shoulder, lingering to smooth the faded fabric against her warm body. He was in deep now. He’d made such a big deal of trusting his brother because of blood ties, but more and more it was becoming apparent that Jesse was not what he seemed.
Jesse had stolen from the ranch, from Mac. And the money had been used to buy drugs…at least once. Though Trent fought the sickening knowledge with everything in his heart, it only made sense to admit that Jesse had funded a secret addiction via his access to the ranch accounts.
Jesse had described Bryn as a manipulative, sexually active girl. But the woman to whom Trent had just made love was innocent and inexperienced, her body barely able to accept his at first. So in all likelihood, Jesse had lied about that, as well.
For the first time, Trent allowed himself to think about Bryn’s little boy. Somewhere in Minnesota there was a kid who might be a Sinclair. If Bryn was telling the truth, then Mac and Trent had treated Bryn abysmally. But what motive would Jesse have had for lying about his relationship with Bryn? Surely Jesse knew that Mac would have welcomed Bryn as a permanent member of the family.
Perhaps for Jesse the answer was painfully simple. Perhaps Jesse hadn’t wanted the responsibility of a wife and child. Trent would never know for sure.
Too many questions. Too few answers.
He eased carefully from the bed and stoked the fire. It was 3:00 a.m. Soon he and Bryn would have to go back to the house. And then what would happen? Nothing was resolved. Was Trent going to confront his sick father with the evidence of Jesse’s perfidy? Or should he clean up the mess and say nothing?
The trouble was, the Sinclairs had too many secrets already. Secrets that had caused pain and heartache. And Trent was no closer than ever to knowing how to sort it all out.
He slid back into bed, chilled, and groaned his appreciation when Bryn’s soft, warm body pressed up against his. Unfortunately for her, his cold skin wasn’t nearly as welcoming.