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She turned her attention back to him as he sped down the driveway to his home. “Yes?”
Stopping, he threw the truck into park and glanced at her, his gaze burning with reckless, unrestrained need. Kat drew a deep, unsteady breath. The physical she understood. Momentary desire, no matter how potent, was as fleeting as an orgasm.
“Where’s the whip cream?” he asked, his low tone teasing her senses.
“In the fridge. I’ll race you.”
She hopped down from the truck and ran for the screen door leading to the kitchen. Footsteps sounded behind her. And Brody’s strong arms banded around her, drawing her back against his chest. Her hands wrapped around his forearms, pressing into the bulge of muscle. So much strength . . . She arched into his hold and felt the hard proof that he wanted her.
“I want you to go inside and head upstairs. My door is the first on the right when you reach the landing.” He lowered his mouth to her neck, brushing a gentle kiss. “I want you in my bed.”
“How?” Her hips rocked against his erection. “Tell me what you see.”
He loosened his hold, his hands capturing her hips. Holding her tight against him, he murmured, “Take off your clothes, lie on my bed and close your eyes. Wait for me. Let the excitement build. By the time I walk into the room, I want you wild.”
His hands fell away, but he didn’t step back. Hovering close, Brody Summers offered a wall of muscle. He didn’t push her to go, or leave her standing alone in the dark corner of the yard, waiting for her to race into the house. He gave, she realized, as much as he took. Maybe more. Even when it came to games firmly based in desire and mutual need.
Focus on his bed, the whip cream, and this moment . . . nothing more.
“Bottom shelf on the right.” She moved to the house. “The whip cream.”
Opening the door, she slipped into the kitchen and headed for the stairs. Inside his bedroom, she surveyed the space. The furniture stole her breath away. Everything from the cherry dresser to the rich red textured wood posts of his bed frame defined this place as his.
She walked over to the room’s focal point and ran her hand over the large wooden footer. The bed dominated the room. The square posts rising up from the four corners gave the piece a distinctly masculine feel due to the blunt, sharp lines.
Standing in the center of Brody’s space, she stripped off her shirt, tossing it over an easy chair. It was possibly the only piece of furniture that wasn’t made from the trees lining this property. Her pants and underwear followed, until she stood naked in his room, surrounded by the handcrafted testaments to his love of this land.
Climbing onto his bed, she drew comfort from the fact that Brody Summers was tied to Oregon. The job he loved involved saving people on the mountains cloaked in darkness beyond the walls of a home that had been in the family for generations. His room was filled with pieces of this place, carefully molded to highlight the best of Oregon.
Lying back on his bed, she closed her eyes. She could appreciate the natural beauty. But when she thought of what Oregon had to offer, her list stopped at Brody Summers.
The door opened and she heard his footsteps on the floorboards. Desire pulsed through her with each sound. His hand touched her ankle and she let out a gasp.
“Roll over, Kat.”
She obeyed, spreading her legs wide as her feet pushed against the footboard’s smooth surface. Planting her palms on the bedspread, she rose to all fours and rocked back and forth, creating the fantasy he’d described in the truck.
“Like this?” She glanced over her shoulder.
“Yes.”
Her gaze fell to his hands holding the whip cream. She raised an eyebrow. “No ropes?”
His brown eyes darkened, narrowing in on her legs. “I couldn’t wait. I had to taste you.” Setting the container on the bed beside her leg, his gaze met hers. “May I?”
She nodded, holding back the words Take me, make me yours!
“Close your eyes, Kat.”
She obeyed. Lowering her head, she allowed her hair to fall forward as she blocked out everything beyond the here and now. She heard the rustle of clothes and the pop of the Tupperware container opening. The bed shifted, forcing her to adjust as he climbed up beside her.
“Oh,” she gasped. The cool feel of whip cream on the back of her calf surprised her senses.
His fingers swirled higher, running up to her knee. His touch disappeared and returned with another dollop of sugary goodness on the back of her thigh.
“Your mouth, Brody.” She allowed her knees to slide farther apart on the bedding. “I want your mouth.”
“Not yet.” His fingers traced small circles, moving upward over her backside.
