Page 52 of The Scent of Happiness

In no time at all, he was ready for her. He rolled on top of her, supporting his weight with his arms so he wouldn’t crush her, but Brooke tightened her arms around him and pulled him close. She wanted to be crushed.

“Brooke,” he sighed.

“I want you, Theo. I want you so much.”

He entered her, his body solid and strong as he worked every muscle to please her. His hands roamed over her as his hips thrust into her again and again. His lips were everywhere—her cheeks, her neck, her ears.

Brooke was beyond hearing, beyond sight. Every touch was heightened until there was nothing in the world but skin on skin. Every breath was Theo’s incredible scent punctuated by the heady perfume of sexual desire.

She didn’t know where she ended and Theo began. All she knew was, she wanted to feel like this forever. She was flying, falling, soaring. She was shuddering and digging her nails into his back. They moved together in the most exquisite way, their bodies joining together and breaking apart and coming together as one.

They panted and gasped, finally breathing together in slow exhalations. Brooke let out a little sigh as Theo withdrew. She snuggled up to him and he stroked her arms and legs in small circles, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go.

“Mmm,” she said. “That was amazing.”

“Mmm,” he echoed. He sniffed at her hair and then her neck.

“That tickles,” she said. “What are you doing?”

“Memorizing you.” He moved down to her breasts and nuzzled them. “Every part of you smells different.”

She shifted on the bed, squealing as the ticklish flicks of his tongue tortured her belly. “What do I smell like?”

Theo paused his slow explorations. “Your hair smells like a forest on a clear day. Leaves and bark and growing things. Your skin smells like citrus and spice and sun and beauty.” He ducked his head to plant a kiss between her legs and inhaled a happy breath. “And this is my favorite. Here, you smell like lust and slickness and whatever the color pink smells like.”

“So that’s good?”

“Very good.” He moved back up her body, planting little kisses the whole way. “What do I smell like?”

“I’ve got no words.”

“I thought you could describe every single scent.”

“You smell like sex on a stick. That’s all I got.”

He let out a roar of laughter and folded her in his arms. “I am perfectly okay with that.”

Brooke’s daily meds had long since worn off, but she had the presence of mind to remember that neither of them had eaten dinner and that she was a terrible host. “Are you hungry?” she asked. “I could figure out something.”

Theo held her tighter. “In a minute. Wait until I stop hyperventilating and my heart rate goes back to normal.”

Brooke reached over to turn off the light. She pulled up the covers and got comfortable, using his chest for a pillow. Her muscles were taffy, her thoughts like stars. The sound of Theo’s heartbeat and his gentle exhalations lulled her as they drifted together in drowsy bliss. Her eyelids drifted downward, and she sighed in perfect satisfaction.

Chapter Sixteen

Theo woke up in the middle of the night, disoriented for a moment until he remembered where he was. He’d fallen asleep in Brooke’s bed, holding her close. But where was she? He patted the mattress next to him. Empty. He fumbled for the light and turned it on. Still no Brooke.

The events of the evening came back to him in a rush. Making soap with Brooke. Kissing her in the kitchen. Moving to the bedroom. Exploring her body. The taste of her lips, the scent of her hair, the way she felt. The way she made him feel.

He checked his shoulder for teeth marks.

He flopped back down on the bed in sated happiness, inhaling the perfect scent of Brooke and hormones and hot sex that lingered in the room.

He sat bolt upright. What was he doing? This was bad. This was very bad. He’d slept with his client. He’d done the one thing he wasn’t supposed to do. All those brains in his head and which head did he think with? All the blood in his body seemed to pool in his feet as dread drained the life out of him.

He didn’t know if he could fix this—wasn’t sure if he wanted to fix it, and that was a bigger problem. But whatever he was going to do, he had to do it now. Right now.

He scrambled for his clothes. He couldn’t find his undershirt—forget it. He threw on pants and socks, fumbled with his shirt buttons while stepping into his shoes, and remembered that his suitcoat and tie were still in Brooke’s dining nook.