On Dublin Street (On Dublin Street 1)

Oh. God.

“But I think mostly it’s your eyes. I want something from them no one else gets from them.”

“And what’s that?” I asked, my voice low, almost hoarse. His words had affected me as deeply as any aphrodisiac.

“Soft.” His own voice had deepened with the highly sexual atmosphere. “Soft the way only a woman’s can be after she’s come for me.”

I gulped inwardly. Outwardly, I tilted my head to the side with a wry grin. “You’re good with the words, I’ll give you that.”

“I’m good with my hands. Will you let me give you that?”

I laughed and his grin widened, wicked and beautiful. I sighed, and shook my head again. “It sounds like more than just sex, Braden. You’re asking for companionship. That’s complicating things.”

“Why? It’s just two friends going on a few dates and having sex afterwards.” He sensed my unmoving doubt on that one because he shrugged. “Look, when have I ever gotten serious about a woman? I want you, you want me. It’s hanging over what should have been a perfectly nice friendship, so let’s just deal with it.”

“But adding date nights into it? Doesn’t that extend the time period on this thing?”

I thought I saw a flash of annoyance in his eyes, but it was gone with a flicker of his lashes. “You want to put a time period on it?”

“A month.”

And then he grinned, realizing I was giving in.

Shit. I was giving in.

“Six.”

I snorted. “Two.”

“Three.”

We stared at one another and as if it suddenly occurred to us we were talking about how long we were intending to explore a sexual relationship with each other, the already hot tension between us burned deeper, and thickened the air. It was like someone had lassoed a rope around the two of us and was tugging and tugging, trying to draw us closer. An image of us in my bed, naked and writhing, flashed across my mind and my body instantly responded. Panties sufficiently damp, my ni**les joined the party and tightened—visibly. Braden’s eyes dropped to my br**sts and started to smolder before they returned to my face.

“Done,” I murmured.

His next question was unexpected but practical. “Are you on the pill?”

I’d had irregular, heavy periods so yes I was on the pill to stop that. “Yes.”

“Have you been checked?”

I knew what he meant. And after my last sexual encounter and the whole not remembering what the hell had happened, yeah… I’d been checked for STDs. “Yes. Have you?”

“After every relationship.”

“Then I guess we’re good to go.”

The words were barely out of my mouth before Braden was standing above me, his large hand reaching out for mine, his face determined, serious. His eyes blazing.

“What? Now?” I squeaked, totally unprepared.

He cocked an eyebrow. “You want to wait?”

“I just… I thought I’d have time to get ready.”

“Get ready?”

“You know… perfume, nice lingerie…”

With a grunt of amusement, Braden took hold of my wrist and hauled me out of my chair. My small body slammed into his and his arms came instantly around me, holding me to him. A hand slid down my hip and around to my butt. He squeezed it lightly and pressed me against him, his erection hard against my belly. I stifled a moan, tilting my head back to meet his eyes. They glittered down at me. “Babe, nice lingerie is for seducing a man. I’m already f**king seduced.”

“Okay, but-”

His mouth cut me off, crushing against mine, his tongue seeking immediate entry. His kiss was deep and wet and it said ‘this isn’t a date, this is sex’. That was fine by me. I groaned and slid my arms up around his neck and Braden took that as my acquiescence.

One minute I was on the ground, the next I was in Braden’s arms, my legs around his waist, my hands in his hair as we kissed and bit and nipped and licked at each other’s mouths, learning the taste and feel of one another.

“Fuck,” Braden responded, the burr of the word vibrating against my lips.

No time to complain about him leaving my mouth, I felt the air blow through my hair and we were moving into the hall, down the hall, into my bedroom and then I was falling. I hit the mattress with a surprised ‘oof’ and stared up at Braden indignantly. “Was that necessary?”

“Strip,” he answered gruffly, unbuttoning his shirt with quick, nimble fingers.

My sex clenched. My jaw did too. “Excuse me?”

He stopped what he was doing and leaned down over me, his hands on either side of my hips on the mattress, his face in mine. “A second proposal: when we’re f**king, you don’t argue with me.”

“Bu-”

“Jocelyn,” he murmured in warning.

My eyes dropped to his mouth, the mouth I wanted back on mine. If that meant not arguing during sex, fine. I’d just argue with him when we weren’t having sex. “Why do you insist on calling me Jocelyn?” I made sure my tone wasn’t argumentative, just curious. Because I was curious.

His lips touched mine, soft, gentle, and he pulled back, those pale blue eyes of his bright with heat. “Joss is a girl’s name. Possibly a tomboy’s name.” He smirked. “Jocelyn, on the other hand, is a woman’s name. A really sexy woman’s name.” He pulled back. “So strip, Jocelyn.”

Okay. He could call me Jocelyn.

I sat up and lifted the hem of my shirt, pulling it up and over my head. I threw it across the room and took a moment to watch Braden strip out of his own shirt. It dropped to the floor and I watched it, before letting my eyes travel back upwards. I smiled in anticipation at the sight of the hard-on tenting his pants, and then my mouth went dry as I took in his naked torso.