The Imperfections

“You’re just so sexy, it’s hard to take sometimes.”

He rolls his eyes. “Your attempts to butter me up are getting more and more transparent.”

“I’m not buttering you up,” I insist, reaching out my arms for him.

He climbs on the bed and moves into my waiting arms, but doesn’t appear convinced. “Sure you’re not.”

“I’m not.” I lift my head and kiss him on the lips. “I don’t think you and I see the same thing when we look at you. If anyone would’ve told me it was possible for a man to be so competent and handsome and such a great catch and also unaware of it, I wouldn’t have believed them.”

“I know I’m competent,” he informs me.

I smile softly. “I think you’re wonderful in all the ways.”

Looking down at me, he says, “I think you’re mine now, and you better not forget it.”

My smile is replaced with a light frown. “What does that mean?”

“It means you can’t make a habit of acting up and then trying to seduce me out of my temper. You’re not gonna make me look like a fool, Alyssa. I won’t put up with that.”

My scowl deepens for a multitude of reasons. He’s annoying me, but he’s also triggering my protective instincts. “I would never do anything to make you look like a fool, Brant. I don’t think that’s even possible. You’re too impressive to ever be made to look a fool.”

His lips curve up faintly, but there’s no humor behind it. Shaking his head, he assures me, “It’s been done before, but I was a lot younger then. You’re young now, and maybe it’s not fair, but you don’t get to make those kinds of mistakes, not if you’re gonna be with me.”

Caressing his jaw, I assure him, “I won’t. I promise.”

He holds my gaze for a moment, then bends to press his face into the curve of my neck. I love the way he gathers me close like I’m something precious, the way his sensual lips move against my neck as he murmurs, “I hope not.”

I wrap one arm around his torso to hold him close and let my other hand move through the soft locks of his dark hair. He leaves a trail of kisses from the base of my neck to my jawline, then drops a few more as he moves in toward my mouth.

When he claims it, I melt even more, locking my legs around him and pulling him fully against my bare body. Only then do I realize he’s still wearing all his clothes, and I’m growing increasingly less patient.

Lifting my head so I can arch up and whisper in his ear, I tell him, “I need you inside me.”

Brant’s grip tightens against my back and he skims his hand along my side until it’s high enough to grab one of my breasts. “Why do you have to go and say a thing like that when I’m trying to kiss you?”

“I have needs,” I inform him. “You can kiss me and fuck me at the same time, can’t you?”

Amusement glints in his dark eyes and he shakes his head at me. “You’re a demanding little thing, aren’t you?”

With an unapologetic shrug, I tell him, “Pregnant women get really horny. It’s science.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to leave you wanting, now, would I?”

I melt into the arm supporting my back as his other hand leaves my breast and drifts down between my thighs. At the same moment he pushes the blunt tip of his finger inside me, he dips his head and starts kissing all around my sensitive breasts. Luxurious pleasure lights up so many of my nerve endings, I can’t keep my eyes open.

Slowly, he eases me back to the mattress and climbs on top of me, his finger moving in gentle strokes to get me started. His tongue darts out and tweaks the sensitive tip of my hardened nipple and I gasp, arching back against the mattress.

My grip on his hair tightens as his mouth closes around the peak of my breast. He subtly repositions now that he has a hand free, bringing it up to knead my right breast while he sucks on my left. Every now and then he strokes my nipple and sends a jolt of electricity straight through me.

Before long, I’m a gasping, panting mess of stimulation. He’s still fingering me, but every time I get close, the bastard moves his finger elsewhere. I can tell from the smirk on his face he’s doing it on purpose, so I finally shoot him a dirty look.

“Why are you torturing me?”

With an unapologetic, one-shoulder shrug, he offers back, “Maybe you deserve a little bit of torture.”

I pout at him. Then, to add a little motivation to my offering, I run my hand down his abdomen, slide it between his legs, and rub the hard bulge I find there.