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“But, when it comes down to it, I doubt I’m your type, Jace.”
“My type? This will be good. What’s my type, Bree?”
“Someone more like Renie, or my sister. Young, pretty, fun.”
“And you’re old, ugly, and boring.”
“Essentially.”
“Get over yourself. Blythe is your sister, not your granddaughter. I don’t need to tell you you’re right; you’re not pretty, you’re beautiful, and—”
The look on her face stopped him mid-sentence. She thought he was bullshitting her. She didn’t believe him, and nothing he said would change her mind.
Instead of saying more, Jace stood and pulled Bree out of her chair and into his arms. He put his hand on the back of her neck and kissed her the way he’d wanted to since this morning. He pulled her against him, so she could feel exactly how attractive he found her.
He backed her up so she was against one of the floor-to-ceiling windows separating the deck and the inside of the house, put his hands on her bottom, and lifted her up, so her legs were around his waist.
His lips trailed from hers, down her neck, and she weaved her fingers in his hair. She could stop him, pull away, but she didn’t.
One hand held her against him, and he unfastened the buttons on her shirt with the other. His lips trailed down further, until he grazed the skin where it met the lace of her bra.
“I need you, Bree. Do you hear me?”
“Yes,” she answered. It came out between a whisper and a gasp.
He put his other hand around her, and carried her, holding her as close as he could, and opened the door he knew Billy always forgot to lock.
Once inside, he lowered her onto the leather sofa in front of the fireplace. Only her eyes moved, as she watched him cross the room. Her shirt was mostly open to her waist; she didn’t make an attempt to cover herself. He lit the fire and came back to where she was, grabbing her legs and turning her so her back rested against the arm of the couch. He lowered himself and nudged her legs apart with his knee. He unfastened the remaining buttons on her shirt, pulled it apart, and then cupped her breast through her bra.
“Stop me,” he murmured before his lips traced the lace against the skin of her other breast. “Stop me now, Bree.”
“I can’t,” she pulled him closer.
“We’re gonna make love, Bree. Tell me now if that’s what you want.”
“I want it so much.”
He pulled away from her, but only so he could slide his arm under her knees and behind her back. He lifted her from the couch and carried her toward the master bedroom.
“Wait—”
“Are you stopping me?” he asked.
“Downstairs.”
Right. Billy and Renie were in town, and he and Bree were in their house. He turned toward the staircase.
“I can walk—”
“No.”
Before she could say anything else, he covered her mouth with his.
He pushed the door open with his leg and laid her on the bed. He reached over and turned on the lamp that sat on the bedside table. The way she’d looked the night they spent in Sun Valley—he wanted to see her that way now.
“Take your clothes off, Bree.”
She rolled to the other side of the bed, turned the other lamp on, and then stood and faced him. He watched as she slid the shirt off her shoulders. Her fingers worked the zipper of her jean
