Page 72 of Blue Jeans in Low Beams

Milo groans, placing one knee on the bed by my hip, kissing me as he climbs up. I lose my grip on him, but not for long as he wraps an arm around me and pulls me on top. He runs his hands along my sides, licking his lips as his eyes dance up and down my naked body.

“I wasn’t done playing…”

“Too bad, beautiful,” he growls. “Because I need to be inside you. Now.”

Ohhhhh…fuuuucckkk…

Lightning rips through me, my entire body shuddering. Inside me. Milo wants to be inside me. I close my eyes, trying to ease my racing pulse. If I was concerned that he and I wanted different things in this moment, I don’t have to be anymore. Because he put my every desire into words.

Sucking in a deep breath, I open my eyes and find Milo sheathing himself. I watch intently, equally mesmerized and impatient—something that is clear to Milo by the look on his face and by the way he grabs my hips the second he’s finished. Still, he doesn’t rush the moment. The urgency on his face is perfectly matched with the gentleness of his touch as he lines me up with him, and I sink down slowly, enjoying every inch of him entering me.

“Brenna…” he exclaims, half curse, half prayer.

And I know exactly what he means. Because oh my goodness…is that the most glorious stretch of my life. Sitting still for a moment, I let myself adjust, knowing that after this, I’m ruined for anyone else. Even Sherlock. Nothing is ever going to compare to Milo.

And still, I need more.

So I move. I swivel my hips, slowly at first, trying to find a pace that suits us both. I find it quickly, as if I’ve been doing this my whole life. Like our bodies know exactly what to do. An automatic setting.

Pleasure surrounds us, enclosing us in our own world. Everything else disappears, because nothing else matters but us. Not my test. Not the brewery. Not the age difference between us. Not the fact that he is my brother’s best friend. All that matters is Milo and me and our connection. A strong, unbreakable connection.

“Milo…” I whimper, the telltale tingle starting to creep in.

“I’m right here, beautiful…I’m right here.”

Grabbing hold of my hands, he weaves our fingers together, just like before. Connecting us. Tethering us together in a way that is inexplicable. That transcends everything. It’s so far beyond my understanding, and I’m not sure I want to understand. I simply want to live in this feeling forever. I don’t know what it has more of an effect on—my heart or my sex—but either way, both clench. And I’m that much closer. So close, yet so far.

“That’s it, baby, use me,” Milo grunts, picking up speed. I gasp from the change in pace, but meet him thrust for thrust. “Come for me. Come on my cock.”

I am. I’m going to. I need to. I just need…a little more…

Milo lets go of one hand, his thumb landing on my clit, circling it in time with his thrusts. And I erupt. I scream his name, or at least I think I do. It’s hard to know exactly what comes out of my mouth because I am no longer in control. I am nothing but light and fire and heat and all sorts of other things exploding at will as my body convulses in waves of ecstasy.

Off in the distance, I hear a roar and feel Milo go taut underneath me. He seems so far away, even as his arms engulf me, hauling me into him. I bury my head in his neck, inhaling his manly scent and letting that take over as the last of my climax skitters through me.

I go limp, relaxing against Milo, who doesn’t ease up on his grip. If anything, he holds on tighter, our chests heaving in time with one another. I have no idea how long we stay like this. Frankly, we could spend the rest of time this way and I’d be fine.

“Can I ask you a weird question?” Milo inquires after we’ve caught our breath.

Uh-oh…

“Sure?”

“Are you a clean up right away, or a we can do it later kind of girl?”

Clean up… What’s he…

I pull back, eyes scanning down his glorious body. He’s still wearing the condom, and it hits me. Right, I need to…except I’m not sure exactly how this works. I guess I just go back to my room? Do the walk of shame across the living room? Is it considered the walk of shame if it’s across your own living room? I’m not even sure where all my clothes ended up. But that can be a later Brenna problem.

Now Brenna has to deal with how to make a graceful exit while not revealing that she might have gotten her heart involved in all this. And that said heart is now more than a little crushed.

“Brenna?” Milo repeats, this time his face morphing into what looks like concern.

“Umm, whatever. If you want the shower or whatever, I can wait.”

I start to push up to go, but an arm around my waist stops me and yanks me back into bed. The two little lines between his eyes are now more pronounced, making my heart skip a beat. Fuck, he does things to me that should be illegal. Both emotionally and physically.

Leaning in, he kisses me softly, slowly, like he did back on the tailgate earlier tonight. The butterflies that fluttered then return, and I try to tell them now is not the time. But I can’t help it.