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Brooke dropped her hands to his chest, caressing his rock-hard pecs, and a sigh rumbled through him. His hand slid into her hair, his fingers tightening. She leaned into him, and it felt like her body was melding with his.
His palm skimmed her cheek. Then his fingers pressed into her jaw, tilting her head back as he broke the kiss. He gazed at her, and she watched his expression shift from uncertain to resolute. Single-minded.
That look on his face was her undoing. That look on his face wanted to possess her, and she wanted to be possessed by him like she’d never wanted anything before.
She clutched at the front of his shirt, pushing aside all her doubts. There wasn’t room to think about anything but the nearness of him, and the heat in his eyes, and how much she needed to give him whatever he wanted from her.
They didn’t speak. Their eyes said everything that needed to be said.
Dylan bent down again. His lips ghosted over Brooke’s cheek, and he pressed a line of barely there kisses along her jaw. Soft. Warm. Featherlight. She jolted with pleasure when he reached her earlobe and nipped at the delicate skin, his tickling breath sending shivers down her spine.
She tugged at his shirt, twisting the fabric out of shape in her white-knuckled grip. With one arm still wrapped around her, he reached up to untangle her fingers and bring them to his lips. She dragged her index finger across his lower lip, tracing the succulent shape.
He licked his lips, and his tongue flicked against her finger. She pressed harder, parting his lips a little more, and he sucked the tip of her finger into his mouth.
Brooke moaned as an ache formed deep inside her. Dylan watched her, his mouth curving as he bit down on her finger. Her throat went dry, and she took a shuddering breath.
His lids lowered as his gaze dropped to her chest, moving over her body like a caress. She could almost feel it, like a physical force, as it roamed over her curves. But she needed toactuallyfeel it. Feel his hands on her. His touch searing her skin.
“Tell me what you want.” His voice was almost a growl.
“You. I want you.” Breathing harder, Brooke dropped her hands to his chest. Squeezing, fondling, massaging. Touching him the way she wanted him to touch her.
Dylan’s chest rose and fell under her fingers, his breath growing more unsteady with every stroke. When she pinched his deliciously hard nipple, he made a low hum in the back of his throat.
His hands slid down to cup her ass, kneading the soft flesh before he jerked her hips against his. She felt his hardness press against her as he lifted her up and carried her into the bedroom.
Brooke’s head was spinning, her thoughts disjointed as Dylan laid her on the bed. Her whole body felt torturously tight. Her skin was so hot, she was afraid she’d burn him when he touched her, but she needed him to touch her. She needed it so much.
But they didn’t rush. Not after so many years of pent-up attraction. Rushing this moment would have been a travesty. They took their time, kissing until she couldn’t feel her lips anymore, and still they kept on kissing. They kissed as they undressed one another, and as they slowly explored each other’s bodies, enjoying every inch.
They didn’t speak. Their eyes and their hands and their tongues and their bodies communicated without words. Investigating, teasing, savoring.
It was torture and it was heaven.
Every touch felt blasphemous and wanton. Dangerous.Thrilling. Like they were breaking the rules. Crossing boundaries they’d never dared cross before.
They kissed until they couldn’t hold back anymore, until pleasure had washed away the last of their inhibitions.
Chapter Twelve
“Ican’t believe that actually happened.” Brooke lay sprawled next to Dylan on her bed with one of her legs thrown over his and their skin flushed and dewy with sweat.
“It definitely happened.” He nuzzled against the top of her head and his hand squeezed her shoulder. “You okay?”
“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “Tell me we didn’t just make a huge mistake.” Now that she was coming down off the sex high, her doubts were raising their ugly heads again.
“It doesn’t have to be.”
Brooke lifted her head to look at him. “I’d really hate to think we screwed up an eighteen-year friendship just to scratch an itch.”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “But it feels so good to scratch it.”
She couldn’t argue with that, so she didn’t try. “I’m serious.” Her fingers spread over his bare chest. “I don’t want to regret this.”
“Then don’t.” His fingertips stroked over her back, drawing indecipherable patterns on her skin.
Brooke wished it was as simple as he made it sound. It would be so nice to lose herself in the present moment, but the worry gremlins were whispering in the back of her mind about all the potential problems that lay ahead. “I don’t want to lose you over a hookup.”
