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“Feel better?” His voice was low. Rough.
Layla soaked up the sight of him. His chest was tanned from his daily shirtless runs, the broad expanse covered in a light dusting of hair that tapered into a thin line bisecting washboard abs. His arms were a work of art, the ripped biceps flexing when he lifted the water to his lips and drank deeply. His throat worked with each swallow, making her body tighten with need. She was starved for the feel of him.
He was so damn sexy. Deliciously powerful and virile.
She nodded.
“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” He licked a drop of water off his lower lip.
“How bad I want your mouth on my pussy.”
His low growl made her nipples hard. He came off the bed in an agile rush of movement. “Eat your dinner while I grab a shower. Then, I’ll eat you.”
The look he gave her made her nipples hard.
His gaze lowered to her chest as he approached and stopped in front of her. “I’ve been thinking about licking your mouthwatering cunt since you stopped me last night. I fantasized about pulling over at a rest stop, dragging you into the back of the Bronco, and tonguefucking you until you screamed.”
“Brian.”
He pushed his hand into her panties and cupped her. “Umm . . . you’re hot and juicy already.”
Her legs parted at his urging, her heart racing. He was such a highly sexual man and unashamed of his needs. His lack of inhibition turned her on and drove her crazy.
She gripped his biceps as he parted her with his fingers and stroked over her clitoris. Her knees went weak. Her breathing was shallow and fast. His fingertips circled the clenching opening of her pussy, then two long fingers pushed inside her.
“Oh God,” she whispered, welcoming his penetration with a hot rush of moisture. She returned the favor, reaching into his open fly and down the front of his boxer briefs. His cock fell heavily into her waiting palms, the plush head already slick with pre-cum.
He caught her leg with his free hand and urged it up to his waist, opening her to his touch. His fingers withdrew, then thrust deep, making her back arch on a gasp.
“How many times have we done this, baby?” he purred, pushing his cock into her grasping hands. “How many times did you need to come so badly I’d have to find the nearest corner and finger-fuck you to orgasm?”
“Not enough.”
“It’s never enough.” He pumped his hand, working her with scissoring fingers and deft twists of his wrist. His thumb found her clit and massaged it, taking her to the edge of climax. “God, you’re so beautiful. You make my chest ache.”
Layla jacked his cock with both hands, using the fast, firm grip she knew he liked.
“You’re so wet.” He groaned. “I’m dying to taste you. And you’re so close to making me come . . .”
“No.” She stilled, giving him one last firm squeeze.
“Layla!” he protested, curling his fingers to rub her G-spot.
“When you come, you come inside me.”
His green eyes narrowed dangerously a second before he bent his head and took her mouth. His kiss was softer and sweeter than she expected, lush and hot and leisurely. It was his kiss that kicked off her orgasm.
Her moan drifted into his mouth. Her pussy trembled around his fingers and her hands tightened convulsively on his cock.
He hissed, jerking in her grip. “You’re killing me.”
But he kept on thrusting gently, drawing out her climax until only sweet aftershocks remained. She leaned into him, breathing hard, relying on his support to keep her standing.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, nuzzling his cheek against the crown of her head. Releasing her leg, he caught her around the waist and drew her close.
“Shower later.”
“I have stubble, sweetheart. I need to shave.” Brian backed away. His face was flushed, his eyes feverish with lust. “I want you naked when I come out.”
She was already stripping before he stepped into the bathroom. As she heard the shower come on, Layla grabbed her salad and crawled between the cool sheets. Needing to slow her raging heartbeat, she picked up the remote from the nightstand and turned on the television. A few channel switches later, she found a showing of Navy SEALs.
She started watching, her thoughts drifting to why a man would choose such a life. Jacob had chosen it because of their father, who had chosen it because of his father. But Brian never really had an answer to that question. He didn’t have those family traditions. He’d been raised by a single mother, who never told him who his father was. When Layla had asked him why he’d joined the military, he’d shrugged and said, “What else was I going to do?”
But he was good at everything, from fixing transmissions to masonry to cooking. He could have done anything with his life that he wanted to.
“You’d better eat quick,” he warned, when he turned the shower off. “I’m about to pounce.”
Layla hit the mute button and feigned a loud snore.
“Ha! I know how to wake you up.”
“Bring it on.”
When he stepped out of the bathroom in all his naked glory, she felt her heart stop. Tears welled and blurred her vision. She dashed them away with impatient swipes, unwilling to lose even a second of the sight of him.
“God,” she breathed, loving him so much her chest was tight with it.
He paused near the bed, letting her look her fill. He was leaner than she’d ever seen him, which told her he was working too hard, but his body was perfect in every way regardless. There was nothing she’d change about him, nothing more she could want. She closed her to-go box and set it on the nightstand without looking away.
Brian caught the edge of the sheet and tugged it down, revealing her body in slow increments. “I feel the same way when I look at you,” he murmured. “Like I can’t catch my breath. Like I can’t blink, in case you disappear when I do.”
He saw her. Truly saw her and who she was, knew her and cared about her with all her history and flaws. After feeling invisible for years, hidden behind a name and life that wasn’t really hers, it meant so much to be with someone who got her. It meant the world to be with Brian now, during the most dangerous and stressful period of her life.
He set his palms down on the mattress, then his knees, crawling toward her in a luscious display of masculine strength and agility. His cock hung heavily between his legs, making her tummy flutter in anticipation. Her toes curled when he kissed the arch of her foot. His parted lips slid up to her ankle, his hand reaching for her other foot and squeezing.
“Brian?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Come here.”
His dark head lifted, his gaze snaring hers. “No.”
“I’m not stopping you,” she said huskily. “I just want to hold you a bit first.”
He exhaled, then climbed over her, stretching out beside her.
She rolled into him, burying her face against his chest. His skin was still damp and cool, his heartbeat sure and strong. His arm draped over her and she tilted her head back, pressing tiny kisses to his clean-shaven jaw, so damn grateful for the opportunity to hold him in her arms again.
“Layla . . .” His voice was low and hoarse, with an aching note of yearning.
Even with a raging hard-on and her willingness, he’d taken the time to shave his evening stubble so as not to scratch her. He was always thinking of her, in both big and small ways. Always ready to give her whatever she needed.
Except when it came to his job.
“Make me understand,” she whispered. “Why is it so important to you to risk your life?”
Brian stiffened, then rested his chin atop her head with a sigh. “It’s not that.”
“What is it, then?”
“I don’t know. I’ve thought it over so many times. Lying in bed without you, wondering where you were, if you were okay, wondering why the hell I didn’t just say to hell with the fucking job when you gave me the choice.?
?? His hands stroked down the curve of her spine.
She closed her eyes and nuzzled closer. “It gives you something I can’t. Something you need.”
“I don’t need anything as much as I need you.” He pushed her to her back and loomed over her. His thigh slid between hers, his weight settling atop her in the way that always made her feel safe and cherished. “That’s what shreds me, that you’d ever believe I could love anything more than you . . . that I ever gave you a reason to think that.”
Putting her fingers to his lips, Layla cut off anything else he might say. He nipped her fingertip with his teeth, the slight sting sending a quiver through her. His tongue flicked over the tiny hurt, his gaze unwavering on her face.
“Grab on to the pillow,” he said gruffly. “Don’t let go.”
She reached up and did as he ordered, the position arching her back and lifting her breasts to his waiting mouth. He licked her nipple, and she made a soft noise of pleasure.
