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“Are you sure it’s a good idea?” Her tone implied she didn’t.
“It’s either the worst or the best idea I’ve ever had.” I smiled at her, stepping closer to brush a strand of hair off her forehead.
Her breath hitched at either the contact or our proximity, and blood thumped harder through my veins.Therewas my chance, and I was going to take it.
“Yeah, okay,” she said, looking up at me.
“Perfect.” I tugged her into the house, not wanting to let her go for a second. A part of me thought she’d bolt if I did.
Heading for the island, I handed her the glass I’d left after dinner.
“It’s weird being here alone,” I said.
Brooke leaned against the counter. “It is.”
“I want to pick up where we left off.” I wasn’t sure if I meant our kiss in the coffee shop or our dinner conversation. I wanted to get to know her better, but I also wanted to explore the crackling tension between us.
I stepped closer, unable to resist the pull, caging her against the hard surface of the counter.
She licked her lips, and my mind went blank. I couldn’t remember my options. With my hands on the island behind her, my lips lowered to hers. I wanted to taste the wine on her lips.
“I want you. I want this,” I said, barely a breath between our lips.
She whimpered, and it was all the answer I needed. She was into me, too.
Her lips opened, welcoming me inside. Her hands went to my neck, pulling me tighter against her. She arched into me, and I groaned.
“Tell me you want this, too.” I pulled back, wanting—no, needing—to see her face when she answered.
“Ben. Please.”
I lifted her onto the counter, helpless to resist her. We should talk about whatever held her back last time, but my body rushed ahead of my brain. It had seen a clear opening, and it was going for it, not stopping to make sure her head was on board, too.
She leaned back slightly, her hair around her face and her cheeks flushed with desire.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” And all mine for the night.
Whatever had been holding her back was unleashed. She moved to press her tits against my chest, her hands suddenly everywhere, ghosting over my pecs and abs, pulling my shirt out of my waistband. She was wild and uninhibited. I hoped I brought that out in her. I wanted to be the one who pushed her buttons. Always.
I shivered at the implication that I was right. Brooke was mine.
I helped her by pulling my shirt over my head, wanting her fingers on my bare skin.
She leaned closer, kissing me. With her hands on my ribs, and her mouth pressing soft kisses over my chest, my muscles tightened and contracted. I wanted more.
“Fuck, Brooke. You’re killing me.”
She looked up, and she no longer looked uncertain. She looked like a woman on a mission. A mission to destroy me.
I dove in for another kiss, needing her lips on mine, and I devoured her like she was the meal I’d been missing all along. Making quick work of her clothes, I barely broke my lips from hers.
She leaned back on her hands and spread her legs wider, offering herself to me. I finally had her where I wanted her, spread out on the counter.
I pulled her to the edge, separating her folds with my fingers before licking her. Her breath hitched as she watched, and my briefs got tighter.
I alternated the pressure of my fingers with my tongue before finally sliding a finger inside her slick heat. Brooke fell back on the counter and threw a hand over her eyes. I loved her gaze on me, but I loved her being overwhelmed with passion even more.
I was the reason she’d lost control, and I loved it. My fingers faltered on the wordlove, but I quickly recovered.
