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Insecurity wrapped its claws around Chris’s throat. He wasn’t good enough for Bronte, period. Not if he couldn’t protect her from the possible hell he was dragging her into.
Pattie kissed his cheek. “Stay in touch.”
“I will.” He saw himself out and got right into his car, already filled with his bags, and texted Bronte. Can I come over?
I thought you’d never ask.
Minutes later, Bronte answered her door in a sweatshirt and leggings. “Did you teleport here or something? I didn’t even have time to make myself look presentable. I’m so exhausted. I came home and—”
He didn’t care what she looked like. She could’ve been in a burlap sack for all he cared; he only needed what was underneath. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pushed her inside, holding her up when she stumbled back. Kicking the door closed, he crept his hands up into her hair, his lips were hasty, his tongue unrestrained, and by the time he had kissed his fill, she was limp in his arms. He stepped away, putting a few inches of space between them. “Hi.” He smiled briefly and kissed her cheek. “How was your day?”
“Oh, the usual, math, Levi meltdown, spelling, Levi meltdown, reading, Levi meltdown.”
“Good, then?”
She sat on the couch, and he followed, shrugging out of his coat on the way. As soon as his body hit the cushions, she moved to his lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Better now.”
He smoothed his hands over her calves and up her outer thighs, stopping at the curve of her hips. He dug his fingers into her, and she rocked into him, swiping her lips across his. “I want to come home from work every day to this.”
His stomach churned with guilt, but he needed to feel her one more time before he explained himself.
He guided her hips up so she hovered over him, and he bunched the leggings in his hands, yanking them down to the tops of her legs, his blunt fingernails scratching her skin through the thin material. She bit her lip and rested her hands on the back of the couch to steady herself.
She tried to balance on one knee at a time to get her leggings off but toppled forward onto him. He laughed and helped her drag them off, then motioned that he wanted her arms up. She followed the direction, and he pulled off her sweatshirt, revealing the white cotton bra on top.
When she covered herself with her arms, he yanked them away. “Why are you hiding from me?”
“This is basically a training bra. I feel like a thirteen-year-old.”
His gaze roved over her. “You don’t look like a thirteen-year-old. You look like a woman I can’t get enough of.”
Hungry for her, he ran a hand over her stomach as he licked his lips, and her skin flushed. He slid down, positioning his head on the arm of the couch, and tugged her hips over his mouth. “Come here.”
With his lips mere inches away from her center, he gripped her hips harder, burying his nose and mouth between her legs as she let out a sigh. He sucked the cotton material into his mouth, soaking it before letting it settle back against her skin. He took a deep breath through his nose, his eyes connecting with hers; he could smell her desire.
A smile crawled across her face, her eyes brightening with a wildness he’d come to expect. Whenever they were together like this, she turned into this wanton creature, totally free of her inhibitions. He traced the seam of her over the cotton, and she pleaded his name, but he took his time torturing her. His nose tickled her hip while his finger sometimes dipped inside the edge of her underwear, barely touching where she needed it. He teased her again and again like that until she grabbed at the roots of his hair, forcing his eyes up. He grinned. “Goddamn, I love when you do that.”
Playing coy, she untangled her hands from his hair and traced an index finger across his jaw to his lower lip. “Do what?”
He bit the pad of her finger, and she squeaked out a surprised gasp. Drawing the tip into his mouth, he sucked the sting away as she wound her other hand back into his hair, tugging hard on it. With one swift pull, he had her panties out of the way and his mouth on her. His tongue worked a few long and flat licks before pushing inside.
“You taste so fucking good. I’ll never forget it as long as I live.” He landed a sharp smack against the back of her thigh when she backed away slightly and tightened his grip, forcing her harder down on his mouth. She moaned and circled her hips, rubbing wetness all over his lips and chin. He devoured her, sucking and licking and biting. She was so close to going over the edge, it took just one press of an invading finger to crumple in his arms. He kissed up her belly and pushed Bronte down to the couch, aligning her along the length of it. He stripped off his shirt and wiped his mouth before tossing it behind his head, in a hurry to remove her underwear.
He was barely in control of his body as he pulled at his jeans, and she batted his fingers out of the way, quickly undoing the button and zipper, then grabbed his length with a confident hand. Without saying a word, she lifted her knees to her waist, guiding him inside, and he blew out a thick breath in relief, letting his weight sink against her for a few long seconds.
He buried his face in her neck. Of all the things he’d miss, this was at the top of his list. “I just need…”
“I know,” she said and lightly ran her nails down his back.
“Bronte.” He lifted off her. “Stop that, or I won’t last long.”
She canted her hips, digging her nails into him. “So don’t.” She bit his chest, and he let out a growl. “I like it when you can’t control yourself. When you’re so hot for me you can’t stop. When you’re rough, and you throw me down because you can’t wait another second.” She licked her lips, her breath sweet against his mouth. “I love that.”
He would’ve liked to take it slow, but he wasn’t going to deny her anything. Especially when she wanted it fast and hard. Digging his knees into the cushions, he thrust into her with a relentless rhythm, and she moaned as her body shook underneath him. He pressed his palm against her sternum, holding her still, while he moved his other hand from her chest to her jaw. He caressed her skin as he slowed, finishing with long strokes to make Bronte come with him. She did, her neck arching as she pressed her head against a small pillow. He kissed her exposed throat once, then wrapped his hands around her neck and shoulders to settle her in his lap as she sat up. Her skin had broken out in goose bumps, and he grabbed a throw from the back of the couch, wrapping it around them both.
“That was perfect,” she murmured into his skin.
“No, you’re perfect.” He gently forced her head back up so he could look at her. “I need to talk to you.”
