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“You’re thinking about that time I caught you in the barn and ran off your midsummer fling.”
“Which time?” There had only been one. Sure they frequently spent time together but one-on-one time had been limited. Their moment had been in a dark barn where she’d interrupted a groping kiss and told the girl to go home, preaching to the choir by telling the gal Kurt was too drunk to know what he was doing. After the young woman left, she’d told him how it hurt her to see him with other women. They’d had a brief exchange, a telling conversation, and drunk or not, he’d never forgotten it.
“You know which one,” she said, rising from the floor. She went to the closet and removed several shirts. Tossing the hangers aside and the clothes to her luggage, she added, “We’ve been over this a few times. You always get a silly look on your face.”
“Which look?”
“The one that makes me think you want me.”
“I do want you,” he admitted, thinking he may not have told her in so many words in the past. “And Brandon knows it.”
She stopped what she was doing. “Why did you say that?”
“Because I assume you think we all need Brandon’s permission since he had you first.”
She shook her head in obvious frustration and hurried to the bathroom. “Brandon and I are just friends.” She probably believed that now. They’d spent a month apart. How could they be more than friends when Brandon apparently hadn’t even called to check on her?
Kurt followed her, watching as she tossed her toiletries in a vinyl pouch. He stretched his arms over his head and hung on to the doorframe, aware of his stretching muscles, the way she might perceive him then—as a man trying to earn a woman’s attention.
“You’re more than friends,” he finally said.
She paused, studied a tube of lipstick, and placed it by the sink. He took the opportunity to go to her then, assuming her pause was for reflection and her thoughts were more of a debate between right and wrong, what could happen and what shouldn’t.
Kurt wrapped his arms around her waist, pushing up on those full breasts, absolutely in awe of the striking beauty staring back at him in the mirror.
“I want to be your friend, too,” he whispered at her ear, nipping the earlobe. “I want to be more than your friend.”
“We are friends,” she said, already moving her head slightly, clearly enjoying his nuzzling.
He sucked the skin right under her lobe. “Okay, so maybe I want to kick up the heat in our friendship. How about that?”
“Why now, Kurt?”
“It doesn’t matter.” He unbuttoned the back of her dress and pushed the material away from her body. Nipping at the flesh between her collarbone and shoulder, he dipped his head and trailed a kiss up to her ear then back down her shoulder. He stared in the mirror then, noticing the white-hot lust in her eyes, the sensual longing in her expression.
He went to the floor with the black and tan dress, eyeing that shapely ass as he helped her step away from the linen and cotton design.
She’d removed her shoes when they’d entered her house, but he still had the stockings to contend with, to strip from her body without ruining them for later wear.
Rolling them down her legs, he admired her toned calves and slender hips and thighs. She’d stayed in shape by taking long walks with his mother, often loading her in her wheelchair and taking her wherever she wanted to go on their farm. She’d been her constant companion, often spending time with her for four or five days at a time, but at night? At night, he’d heard her. He’d even seen her.
Coco had belonged to Brandon yet Brandon was well aware of the lust some of his brothers held for her as well. They’d told him. They’d expressed their needs, their wants, and their innermost desires.
Kurt cupped her rear as he rose behind her. He slipped his hands over her lower back and gave her a spin as soon as he was on his feet again.
Her arms wrapped around his neck and he convinced himself he hadn’t guided her there, he hadn’t thrown those slender limbs over his shoulders. Even if he had, maybe it was what she’d wanted, what she’d silently pleaded for in her own way. Maybe this was a dream, a fantasy after all.
Kissing her, he acknowledged the growing insanity inside him, the madness she had stirred within him. He’d enjoyed plenty of lovers in the past, but he’d never wanted one of them even half as much as he wanted Coco right then, as he’d lain awake and wanted her so many sleepless nights since Brandon first brought her to their home.
He framed her face, her mouth. Loving her frail smile, he dipped his head and took the kiss, the one to seal the deal now. He thrust his tongue inside her mouth and guided her fingers to his shirt.
Holding her head between his large hands, he deliberately fed their kiss, making each second count, trying to add the sensuality she surely craved. Their kiss turned passionate and full of heat then slowed to a tender sweet kiss, addictive and meaningful.
His shirt was unbuttoned, stripped from his body. His slacks were undone, shucked from his legs.
God help him. This was happening. It was real. She was right there. The one he wanted, the one he’d craved was now locking her small hand around his size, pumping him, steadily working him into another level of heightened arousal, one he hadn’t even known existed.
Kurt lifted her to the vanity. He took a step back and retrieved his pants, digging for his wallet. Throwing the tri-fold on the counter next to her hips, he wasted no time in taking a seat in front of her, scooting the bench back so he’d have room to move.
