Take Me Home (The Heartbreak Brothers 1)

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he told her.

He kissed his way across her ribcage, his breath warm, her skin warmer. Then he moved lower, reaching the softer skin of her stomach. She tightened her muscles and he chuckled, before continuing his way down, his lips grazing the top of her panties.

She held her breath again, feeling the ache between her thighs, waiting to see what he’d do next.

“No,” he murmured, so quiet it seemed he was talking more to himself than her. “Not yet.”

He pulled himself over her, his denim-clad thighs sliding between her bare ones, and cupped her face with his hands. “Can you feel what you’re doing to me?” he asked, pressing himself against her.

Yeah, she could feel it. Her thighs tightened around him in response.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, brushing his lips across hers. She slid her arms around his neck, needing the connection.

“So are you,” she told him, meaning every word. So damn handsome it shouldn’t be allowed.

“Nobody’s said that to me before. Sexy, yeah. Beautiful, never.”

“Then they’re crazy,” she said smiling.

He laughed again, then kissed her, sliding his hands around her back to unclasp her bra. Her breasts were aching, needy, and as soon as he released the fabric encasing them, her skin puckered at the cool night air. He lowered his head to capture a nipple between his lips, sucking soft, then hard, until she couldn’t help but moan.

He was setting her on fire, inch by inch. A kiss, a caress, a curl of his tongue, they were music on her body. He pulled back to take his jeans off, then moved his hands up her legs, warm and firm on her thighs. His fingers traced the elastic of her underwear.

“These need to come off.”

“Yeah, they do.” Her breath caught.

He nodded as he hooked his fingers around the white lace, dragging them down her heated thighs and throwing them behind him.

And then she was naked. On Jackson’s Ridge with Gray Hartson, and for some crazy reason it felt like the most natural thing in the world. He was still wearing underwear – black shorts that did nothing to hide his impressive excitement – but her eyes were drawn to the beauty of his body.

He was a work of art. Even the parts of him that weren’t painted with ink and history. Wide shoulders, sculpted chest, abdominal muscles that rose and fell like a symphony. And his face. Dark, needy eyes, lips parted, his breath coming in short pants the same way hers was.

Then he slid his fingers between her thighs and all thoughts of faces and chests were gone, replaced by a need building inside her. She was achy in a way she could barely remember feeling. How long was it since anybody had touched her like this?

Forever… never.

Nobody had ever touched her the way Gray was.

“Christ, you feel good,” he whispered, his voice catching. Then he put his fingers between his lips and sucked, making her eyes widen with shock. “You taste good, too.” He smiled at her response, touching her there again, and making her cry out his name.

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” he asked her.

“The same thing you’re doing to me.” And she wanted it. All of it. Every part of him. Wanted him to play her the same way he played his songs. Soft, then hard, until the sound filled every cell in her body.

“Gray…” She slid her arms down his back, tugging at the waistband of his shorts. “I need…”

“What do you need?” he whispered in her ear, his voice hot and harsh.

“You. I need you.”

He slid his fingers inside her once more, then pulled them out. “Yeah, you do.” A smile pulled at his lips. He grabbed his wallet and pulled out a condom. Her throat was dry as she watched him slide it on. “But not as much as I need you.”

He hovered over her, his eyes trained on hers, and she could see herself reflected in their depths. They stared at each other for a long moment before she could feel his hardness against her.

Dipping his head, he captured her lips with his, swallowing her cries as he pushed inside. He groaned. His hips moving fast, his lips taking everything she could give, his body making hers sing until they reached the crescendo.

And when he took her there, watching with dark eyes as the pleasure overtook her, she could feel him following close behind. He was moaning, his elbows digging into the blanket beside her, his hips thrusting against hers as he reached his peak.