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But to hear those words fall from his lips like a seductive song—I want you, Corinne—means more to me in that moment than his physical desire does. Because he didn’t say he needed me, like he wanted to just use my flesh to rid himself of the primal agony within him. This isn’t just about physical release.
Because he wants me, and that indicates a choice. Brody isn’t just using me because I’m the only one available at the moment—he is choosing to give in to his temptation, regardless of it being right or wrong.
And I don’t care which it is—right or wrong—because I want Brody, too. It hurts to admit it, because I don’t want to want him the way I do, but I still do.
He lifts me into his arms and carries me down the short hallway into his bedroom, his beautiful mouth never leaving mine. My arms are around his neck, my fingers tangled in his hair. He tastes so perfect, with a hint of coffee on his lips and his own personal brand of sultriness on his tongue. He tastes like everything I’ve ever wanted to indulge in, yet I didn’t know it until now.
Brody sets me down on the edge of his bed, a huge four-post bed with luxuriously soft blankets and the biggest, fluffiest pillows I’ve ever laid eyes on. Pillows that are also tossed onto the floor carelessly as he pushes me gently back into the mattress and begins to kiss me again, this time with more hunger, more fervor. I moan against his lips, letting our tongues tangle as I feel his fingers pull my sweater upward.
“Corinne—”
“Take it off,” I breathe out desperately. “Undress me, Brody.”
Those words seem to do something to him, igniting the smoldering fire in his eyes into a blazing inferno. He pulls his body away from mine only long enough to tug me up into a sitting position, and I silently lift my arms to aid him in pulling the soft cashmere sweater from my upper body.
“Damn,” he whispers, his eyes roaming down my newly revealed skin, taking in the matching slate gray bra, a dark contrast against my pale, creamy skin. “You’re so sexy, Corinne.”
“Come here.” I match his low tone, not wanting to wake up Spencer, and reach my arms out for him. “My turn.”
He steps between my knees, letting me graze my fingertips along the contours of his outer thighs over his jeans. Purposefully, I let my hands migrate around to his back, plucking the baby monitor from his back pocket and leaning sideways to place it on the nightstand, its speaker facing us. Without asking him for permission, I turn the dial on the top of it to increase the volume. If Spencer wakes, we’ll hear him, no matter what.
When my eyes turn back to meet his, Brody’s gaze is hot and alight with lust. I thoroughly intended to undress him myself, peeling away the layers that barricade his muscular body from my own, but he dives forward, crashing his mouth onto mine, ridding me of my resolve with a crushing kiss that leaves me whimpering against his mouth as he pushes me back down onto the bed.
Brody’s hands are everywhere. He greedily travels up and down the contours of my bare abdomen, exploring every inch of me, stopping only long enough to palm my breasts in his large hands, squeezing and thumbing my hardened nipples through the thin cups.
I gasp as his fingers pinch slightly at the nub of one nipple. I’m not sure what sets him off—the sound I make or the sensation of my nipples through the fabric—but a low, desperate growl escapes his mouth and his hand disappears around to my back, seeking out the clasp of my bra. I arch upward, and the bra comes undone. He pulls it from my body and tosses it off the bed, letting his eyes scan my naked flesh once more.
Another flash of sheer lust shines in his eyes, and I gasp at the intensity with which he descends on me, needing to be as close as possible, desperate to feel his body against mine.
I’m aching just as much, and his animalistic gaze is doing little to calm me. With only my need and desire to guide me, I tug at his plaid shirt, pulling it roughly from his shoulders, followed soon after by his t-shirt. The sight of his chiseled abdomen and shoulders as he takes the clothing from me and tosses it to the floor makes a sharp gasp fall from my lips, and I can feel the clenching deep inside my core increasing with a new flood of desire.
“Oh my God.” It’s my turn to stare up at him like he’s an exotic treat I’ve been craving for a lifetime. “Brody?”
He stares down at me, his massive chest heaving with the weight of his agonizing desire. “Yeah?”
My voice is hoarse as I stare up into his shadowed eyes. “I want you, too.”
There’s nothing left to say, and obviously Brody agrees because he leans down again, claiming my mouth with his and putting an end to any other words falling from my tongue. I’m consumed by him, by the sheer power in his muscled body and the desperation in his kiss. By the way his body moves so familiarly against mine, and the way he holds me to him, not just claiming my body but also cherishing it.
I reach between us to fumble with the fly of his jeans, popping the button and lowering the zipper. With furious, desperate movements, I push the coarse material down his hips, dragging his boxers down with it.
“Please,” I plead, needing to rid the barriers between us. “Please, Brody.”
Everything changes in that moment. Not just because he manages to get his jeans off, or because he pulls my gray panties down past my hips and tosses them on the floor, too. But because we both seem to lose ourselves. Completely.
In a flurry of tangled limbs and possessive kisses, there’s not an inch of his body or mine that goes untouched. Each time his mouth nips at the sensitive flesh just below my ear, each time his fingers caress the sensitive, warm skin of my inner thigh, there are sharp gasps erupting from my throat. My back arches against his touch, and the sensation of his calloused fingertips as they play tentatively across the damp folds of my pussy is almost more than I can take.
I can feel the hardness of his erection pressing against my thigh, pulsing and twitching, but Brody is insistent on bringing me closer and closer to the brink of release. I arch my hips against him, desperate for him to dip into the wetness of my core, to cause friction against my clit and ease the consuming mix of pleasure and pain that engulfs me.
He pulls his mouth from mine, his eyes dark and glistening as he takes me in and searches my eyes. I’m not sure what he’s looking for until I feel the tip of one thick finger disappear inside me, and my head tilts back as every nerve ending in my body sends a storm of shocks and electricity coursing through my veins, burning me up from the inside out. A loud moan escapes my lips, every taut muscle in my body clenching decadently around his digit as he strokes me.
“Oh, Corinne.” He leans forward, kissing my neck with feverish lips. “You feel incredible.”
“Oh...oh God.” I can feel every muscle and tendon within my entire body buzzing with blatant desperation, constricting and pulsing just as harshly as the pulse I can hear in my own ears. “Brody...dear God, please...” My legs come up, clenching around his thighs, a silent plea for him to take me, to bury himself inside me and take away the incessant ache that rages painfully within me.
Brody hears my words for what they truly are—I’m begging him to destroy me. Take my body, consume me whole, and leave me in shattered pieces. I can worry about those pieces later. Right now, I need him to shatter me utterly and completely, and that’s all I’m craving. All I can process.
He painstakingly slowly withdraws his finger from within me, dragging out a guttural groan from my mouth as he does so. Then, he sits up, letting his long, rigid hardness jut out before him. He clamps one hand around himself and manages to retrieve a condom from the nightstand drawer with the other. He rolls it on, guiding the tip of his cock to my entrance, pushing just enough to elicit a whimper from me.
