He dipped down and swung her up into his arms with easy strength, his powerful muscles bunching in ways that made her melt. She squeaked and clasped her hands behind his neck.
“I thought you were supposed to carry the bride across the threshold.”
“Across the threshold, to the bed…same difference. But if you want, I can go back out and bring you back in.”
“No,” she said. “Just kiss me.”
His dark, hungry smile was the only warning before he possessed her mouth with a hunger and intensity that swept her away in the sizzling fire between them. Kissing Thomas was like flipping a switch; the pent-up passion inside her broke free, infusing her with a wild desperation that left her hot, needful, her body tight and quivering with consuming hunger. His tongue caressed her lips, her mouth with a desire that made each stroke resonate through her entire body until her breasts felt heavy and her nipples peaked against the thin fabric of her sundress.
“Brianna,” he gasped.
She nipped at his upper lip. “Tell me you love me.”
He tumbled her to the bed. His long, hard body covered hers. He looked down at her with a possessive intensity that made her stomach flutter. His breath came harsh, and he spread a broad, rough hand over her stomach, stroking slowly upward until his fingertips grazed the underside of her breast.
“I love you,” he whispered, then dipped his head and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking through the cloth. She arched and wove her fingers into his hair with a gasp.
His teeth teased her gently, tugging carefully, taunting and grazing, before he covered her dampened breast with his palm and kneaded with a delicious strength that stopped just short of pain—a heated firmness and strength that left her writhing and arching up to thrust into his hand. He left a trail of fire everywhere he touched, burning her alive.
She needed to taste him. Her mouth trailed down his neck, and she pushed his light linen shirt back to nibble at his shoulder. Her hips rolled up against his, and she ground against him until he let out a tortured groan. That one sound made her feel wanton. Wild. Beautiful. Seductive. She spread her legs with a willingness that was deliciously shameful, wrapping her thighs around his hips until he pressed flush against her.
“Oh God,” she gasped, and bit at his throat. His cock teased her, pushing her panties into her wet, slick folds until she whimpered. “Oh God, yes!”
His mouth found her ear. His rushed breath teased her; his teeth captured her earlobe and tugged. “I love you. I love you more than anything,” he whispered.
“Don’t talk,” she said, then sucked in a sharp breath as his thumb flicked her nipple. “Just kiss me again.”
He answered with a kiss so fierce it drove all thought from her mind. She loved him like this. Loved when he let her see the wildness of him, the primal need that turned him from a man into this beast who claimed her body with dragging, sensuous caresses and stroked her to a shaking peak. His mouth branded her, bit at her hard enough to leave pleasurably burning-hot marks against her throat, like an animal marking his territory. His hands touched her with an arrogant certainty that said he knew her body too well—and knew exactly how to drive her wild.
When his fingers nudged her panties aside and eased into her, she clung to him, digging her fingernails into his back. The pad of his thumb circled her clit in a maddening counter-rhythm to each thrust of his fingers until she was nearly dizzy, breathing so shallowly her lungs were tight, her throat aching from her cries. Her body clenched and spasmed around him, the callused texture of his fingers caressing her to a painful sensitivity. She felt like liquid fire, scorching and melting all in one.
“Jesus Christ, Brianna,” he hissed. She opened her eyes to hazy slits; he watched her with a near-obsessive intensity, his lips parted, his eyes glazed.
“More,” she begged, and rocked her hips into his hand. “Please, more!”
He gave her more. He worked her with his fingers until she was whimpering and lax with pleasure. He tore at her clothing, stripping her with a ruthless efficiency. His clothing joined hers on the floor, leaving his taut, sculpted body bare. She stroked her hands over him, relearning every inch of him by touch, tracing his wide shoulder, stroking her finge
rs through the light coating of hair sprinkled along his chest, following the thin trail down his stomach and lower.
He was ready for her, filling her hand, and with a low sound he rocked into her touch. “Brianna,” he warned, voice low, dangerous. His gaze devoured her. When he looked at her, she felt like the most beautiful person ever to exist. Inch by slow inch, he covered her body with his, his weight pressing her into the mattress. He kissed the swell of her breast, brushed his fingers along her inner thigh, and slipped his fingers through her wetness until her legs trembled.
Frenzied need swept through her. Suddenly his fingers weren’t enough, and she rolled him over, relishing the startled look on his face. His erection pressed against her, and with a hot little moan she stroked herself against him; his cock stroked against her, slick with her wetness, his thickness gliding between her thighs. He dug his fingers into her hips, held her still, and positioned himself nudging against her opening.
“No,” she said, and caught his hands. She pushed them down to the mattress on either side of his shoulders and leaned over him. “Me.”
He licked his lips, nodding, panting. “All right.”
Yet a little buck of his hips nearly undid her—and she shuddered, tightening her grip on his hands, lacing their fingers together in a silent message. Behave. For a moment longer she rubbed herself against him, then braced her knees to the bed and sank down on him with a breathy cry. He glided into her, piercing deep, forcing her thighs wider as she sank down to take inch after inch. His ragged sound was only a faint echo of the moans building up inside her. She rocked her hips and nearly fell apart as sweet, rough friction sizzled through her.
When she’d taken him fully, she fell still, gasping, savoring the sensation of their bodies joined together so intimately, his cock buried deeply inside her. His eyes were closed, his lips parted, his head tossed back, his pulse moving fast against the strong lines of his throat. After long moments, his eyes slipped open, their dark brown molten and scorching, hungry and wild.
“Love me,” he growled, and strained against her grip. “Love me, Brianna.”
She rolled her hips, and he rose up to meet her. Her entire body tightened around him, and she arched back, glorying in the vivid sensuality of the rhythm that swelled and surged between them. He tore his hands free from hers and ran his palms over her stomach, up her rib cage, to cup her breasts. His thumbs toyed over her nipples, and she screamed, tossed her head back, and rode him with an unrestrained abandon.
She’d never known it could feel this good to let herself go, to throw herself into such wild and unrestrained sexuality. Not until Thomas caught her in his arms and didn’t let her go. Their bodies crashed together again and again until sweat licked down her neck and her breasts ached from his rough touch, until a heaviness built deep in her belly and high in her thighs and the hard pressure invading her body on every thrust was too much to bear. She plunged down on him, took him deep, then lost herself in a blinding moment of bliss and glory as desire gripped her in an iron fist and wrung every last drop from her.
His thrusts were frantic, crazed, arrhythmic, and a moment later she felt the intimate caress of him filling her, climaxing, emptying himself into her. She collapsed against his chest; his arms wrapped around her, holding her close. His heavy breathing tickled her neck, but she wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.