Priceless (Forbidden Men 8)

I barely touched her cheek with the tips of my fingers, dashing away the wetness, and she released a breath

before grasping my wrist.

“Because I need proof. I need undeniable, physical proof. I need—”

I hushed her by setting my fingers against her lips. In that moment, I was a goner, done fighting it.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay, I’ll give you proof.”

SARAH

When the warm, moist fall of Brandt’s breath brushed over my fingertips and he looked at me with eyes that had just given in to temptation, I let go of his wrists to catch the lapels of my robe. And then slowly, staring him straight in the eye, I slid it off my shoulders and down my arms until it pooled around my lap, exposing the top part of my lingerie.

His pupils dilated and his gaze dropped to my chest. “Jesus.”

He was so fixated with staring at my body he didn’t seem to notice he’d reached out to trail the backs of two fingers gently down my stomach. I sucked in a breath, and my overheated skin rippled with goose bumps.

When he glanced up, his eyes were glossy and hooded, full of heat and yearning. Overwhelmed and overjoyed that he was experiencing all that for me, I hooked my hand around the back of his neck and tugged him in. Our lips slammed together. Hard.

His mouth met mine eagerly, already opening and drawing me in. Fingers sank into my hair and gripped it as he dragged me against him, relieving a portion of the ache in my chest when he pressed it to his own. As our tongues mated, hungry and seeking, he batted the rest of my robe away from my waist so he could curl a hand around my ass, grip and press me forward until I was snug in his lap and his erection hit me right between the legs. I had to break away from the kiss to throw my head back and gasp through the contact. He guided me, grinding me harder.

A mewling sound left my throat, embarrassing me to no end. Hoping to disguise the sound, I grappled with his shirt, panting, “I need this off.”

Without a word, he ripped it over his head. But as soon as his sleek, gleaming bare chest was freed, his gaze caught mine, and he paused. Regret and guilt shimmered through his glazed eyes as he shook his head. “Damn, Sarah. What’re we doing—”

I couldn’t allow him to finish the question, to pollute our moment with doubt, so I kissed him again and shoved him back until his spine hit the wall. His grunt upon impact was full of surprise and arousal.

I broke the kiss so I could concentrate on undoing the top button of his jeans. For me, it was a feat. But I was determined to be the one to release it. If I couldn’t handle one damn button, then what use was I?

Brandt seemed to understand my determination because he merely watched with glittering, hungry eyes as I finally managed to flick his jeans open and zip them down. When I reached inside his underwear, I was shocked by the feel of him.

“It’s so soft.” I wasn’t expecting the skin around the steel shaft to be soft. For something hailed as hard as a rock, I had no idea the surface would feel practically like velvet.

Brandt began to laugh at my surprise until I tightened my fingers around him and slid my grip all the way down. Then the sound choked off into a groan. “Damn,” he whimpered, fisting his hand down at his side after he started to reach for me only to stop himself. “I don’t know if I can—oh, God, that feels good.” His head fell back, smacking into the wall as he squeezed his eyes closed.

I grinned, deciding I was doing fine. Wanting to please him more, I leaned down, down...until my face was right there. I drew his length forward, and my eyes widened at how big he actually was. Oh, holy hell. Was all that really supposed to fit into my little ol’—

“No! Wait. Sarah...” Brandt gripped my hair as his voice went high.

Determined to make him feel good, I wrapped my lips around the weeping, mushroomed head and sucked him in deeper.

“Fuck!” He jerked in my mouth, the salty taste of precum coating my tongue. Then he started to drag me off by my hair, but I don’t know if it was the suction I had on him or the way I moved my tongue, but suddenly he pushed me back on, surging his hips forward so that I took more than I was anticipating. “God. Oh, God. That feels—”

I gagged. Totally didn’t mean to, but I took way more than I’d anticipated, and I had to grab hold of his leg to brace myself.

“Shit!” he yelled, pulling me off him as if I was biting him instead of gagging. Then he leaped off the bed away from me and clutched his head. “I’m sorry. Oh, fuck, Sarah, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

I took a moment to calm myself before I brushed the hair out of my face and met his concerned, frantic gaze. “Yeah, I’m...” But the word fine stalled in my chest when his face drained of color, and his eyes turned an unnatural shade of stark fear. His shaking hands fumbled to jam his cock back into his pants and zip it up.

“Are you okay?” I ended up asking.

He bent at the waist to rest his hands on his knees as he tried to recover his scattered breaths. Finally he gasped, “Yeah, just...bad déjà vu.”

I frowned, sure I’d misheard him. “Bad what?”

He froze, stopped breathing entirely while all his muscles seemed to lock into place. Finally, he slowly, carefully lifted his face, where his expression was completely blank. And I knew...just felt it in my bones...he’d said something he hadn’t meant to and totally didn’t want me to know about.

“Bad what?” I repeated slowly and succinctly so he couldn’t pretend to misunderstand me.