“Brody,” she growled, rocking back and forth, p
erilously close to begging for his fingers to slide inside her, followed by his tongue and his cock.
“When I first saw you,” he said, his voice low and rough, suggesting his need matched hers. “I thought you looked pretty damn perfect.”
“And now?”
Whip-cream-covered fingers touched her low back and moved down, down, down . . . She opened her eyes, glancing over her shoulder. On his knees behind her, his hands on her butt, he looked like a wicked version of her fantasies. This wasn’t the boy who fixed her shoes. This was the man who gave her the best damn orgasms of her life.
“What do I look like now?” she demanded, her voice low and needy.
“Messy.”
Lowering his mouth to her back, Brody ran his tongue through the cream. Everything slipped away, her world narrowing to the feel of his lips on her skin, licking her clean.
“I warned you,” she gasped.
“Hmm.” His mouth remained focused on her.
Just when she thought he’d finished teasing her and was ready to reach for a condom—please God let him have a condom—his lips retraced the path up her legs, moving between them. The pleasure rose up, rushing forward—
“Not yet, Kat,” he murmured. “Not yet.”
“Wait, what are you doing?” she protested, her eyes wide, her body burning for the promised orgasm. “You can’t stop now.”
“Roll over Kat.”
Lying on her back, she watched him move to the hand-carved nightstand, open a drawer and retrieve a condom. Within seconds he was on the bed with her, his body hovering over hers. He kissed her, long and slow, as one hand moved between her legs.
“I’m ready,” she murmured, breaking the kiss. “Please, Brody.”
His gaze locked with hers. “You say that word and I’m lost, Kat. Please. That’s all it takes and I’m lost in you.”
“Please,” she whispered, rocking her hips up to meet his.
Brody listened, gently pressing into her. There it was—a flash of pure possession in his brown eyes. This man didn’t need ropes to dominate her. She was ready and willing to melt into him, to give him everything in silent response to the wanting written on his face.
“Please, Brody. More.” The words escaped on a gasp of pleasure. He increased the pace, thrusting harder, faster, deeper.
“I want you, Kat.” Holding his weight on his elbows, Brody hovered over her. “You’re mine.”
No. She didn’t belong to him, not beyond this moment.
“You’re mine,” he repeated, his voice a low rasp as he thrust into her, driving her toward physical release.
She focused on the sexual challenge in his words, narrowing her world to the feel of his powerful body. “Then take me.”
He let out a low growl as he pushed her closer and closer . . .
“Brody!” She tumbled over. “Oh Brody.”
Pleasure washed over her, taking her to a place of momentary bliss. He might desire her now, but she’d wanted him for so long. And now, in this moment, he was hers.
But like the orgasm, it wouldn’t last. She couldn’t open herself up to the possibility. If she did, the hurt, the rejection, would crush her. And it would come. It always did.
Still, she’d hold tight to this moment. And maybe demand another before she headed home to New York.
Chapter 13