On the inside, Brinton was a tornado of ecstasy. She couldn’t believe that A) this was happening and B) that he felt the same way about her. First, their electric moment on the red carpet, and then at the lake. All the small, surprising, explosive moments in between.
Behind her, Brinton draped her arms over Jamie’s shoulders. He took the hint, dragging his hands over her ribcage, down her waist, and across her stomach.
This time, shefelthim groan into her ponytail. The littlevibrations tickled the back of her neck before re-routing between her thighs. She was already swollen with pleasure.
Brinton unleashed body roll after tortuous body roll. Jamie’s hands didn’t miss a beat. Neither did his long, soft moans against her neck.
“You know I respect you, right?” he asked, breathless.
“Uh-huh.”
“The way I want you—what I wanna do to you…”
“Tell me…” she panted.
Though she didn’t need to ask. When she threw her ass back again, she felt the unmistakable answer in his jeans.
His breaths, satisfyingly hot and addictive, shattered against her neck. He spun her around to face him, paving the way for their hips to buck together freely.
She angled her face toward his. He cupped her jaw.
“I wanna run my tongue over you real slow, until you’re slick and screaming for me,” Jamie said. “I bet you taste so fucking sweet, Bee. Like pure honey.”
What a coincidence—she couldn’t stop thinking about how badly she wanted his mouth on her. Immediately.
“I’d lick up every single drop. Then, I’d fuck you six ways to Sunday.” He paused. “Respectfully, of course.”
Brinton swallowed hard.
“Of course,” she said, a lust-hazy grin overtaking her lips, which, she decided, needed to be kissed. She needed his hands. She needed him.
Brinton pressed her chest against his, gripping his back to keep her balance.
“Sunday’s my favorite day of the week.”
“Follow me,” he said, all smoke and lust, before taking her hand.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Jamie led Brinton through a hallway she hadn’t noticed before. A tattooed bouncer waved them through a narrow door. It dropped them off in the same empty alley where, a few hours ago, Brinton had considered punting Jamie through the SUV’s passenger side window.
Now, she was desperate to relieve the pressure, intense as an unwatched kettle. Two-hundred-twelve degrees of canned heat between her thighs.
Considering how anxiety had whittled her sex drive toothpick-thin, this was almost inconceivable. The thought of sex with a man usually sent her spiraling, prompting a greatest hits reel of her imperfections: the heavy sag of her breasts and tiny spider veins creeping up her inner thighs, or the telltale slapping of her round belly in practically every position.
Sex had become a highly efficient solo sport, a short-lived distraction from the barrage of intrusive thoughts. Yet, beneath the electric blue haze spilling from the lanterns above, Jamie unlocked an urgency she refused to suppress.
And it was mutual.
When the heavy door shut behind them, a switch flipped. Jamie walked her backward until her shoulders brushed the brick wall behind her. He seemed to enjoy caging her body with his own so his eyes could skate over her freely.
It was warm, the air thick as gauze. But as he watched her, an undeniable flash of desire bolted up her spine. Her thighs clenched instinctively.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he said through shallow breaths that matched hers. “Can I kiss you?”
It was less of a question and more an urgent plea.
“Yes.”
