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My hand instinctively shoots out to grab his shirt when he attempts to walk away. My clutch is pathetic, he could easily escape it, but my lusty head tells me he doesn’t want to.
“Tell me you don’t want me.” He remains facing the front, unblinking and unmoving, but it won’t stop my campaign. “If you can do that, I’ll drop this immediately and never bring it up again.”
Brodie watches me through a sheet of hair that has fallen in front of his eye for what feels like a lifetime before he says, “You’re—”
“An adult who can make her own decisions,” I interrupt when the same excuses flood his eyes. “And I know what I want.” His eyes bounce between mine as I say, “I want you.” When panic flares through his eyes, I quickly clarify, “To fuck me. I want you to fuck me.”
“Jesus Christ, Henley. You can’t say that to me.”
“Why?” I ask, giving his brief interrogation trick a run for its money.
His reply isn’t close to what I expected, but it is better than a straight-up no. “Because if that’s all you want, a night of fun with no attachments, I might not have the strength to fight anymore.”
There’s the confession I’ve been dying to hear.
“So you feel it too?”
“Yes!” He throws his hand into the air before dragging it over his head. “But we can’t—”
I shut him up before he says another stupid word by kissing him.
I’m not talking about your ninety-year-old grandma kissing her husband farewell. I’m talking fireworks in the sky, a greasy breakfast after a night of drinking, and tingles that have you wondering if you’ve ever truly orgasmed. It is an intense, blistering embrace that knocks Brodie’s hesitations out of the park.
My head bumps into the door when he braces me against it after guiding my legs around his waist.
“Shit,” he whispers over my kiss-swollen lips a short time later.
“Is it your shoulder?” I ask, panicked our stumble to the door overexerted him.
“No,” he answers between placing hungry kisses on my neck. “My shoulder is fine. I’m worried about your burn.”
“The burn that feels nonexistent when compared to the heat of your kisses?” When he peers up at me, his smirk almost nonexistent, I cock a brow. “Please don’t tell me you’re one of those people who have sex with the blanket on?” The vibration of his chuckle is as delicious as the tingles racing through the conjoined areas of our bodies. “I don’t care if it is minus thirty, bedding is the first thing to go.” I give him a look. “If it isn’t, you’re fooling around with the wrong person.”
He nods like he agrees with me but still inches me away from the door.
As I stroke Brodie through his shorts, he shuffles us to the other side of the bathroom. The marble top of the vanity feels cool on my backside when he sets me down on it, but a second after his lips lower to my breasts, my core body temperature climbs to a dangerous level.
“Sweet lord,” I murmur when he sucks my nipple into his mouth and swirls his tongue around the aching bud.
After playing with my breast long enough to bring me to the brink of ecstasy, he kisses a path down my stomach. When he reaches the apex of my thighs, my eyes shoot to the open bathroom door. I’m already panting in excess. I can’t guarantee my moans won’t wake Lucy.
“Should we close the door?” I ask between big breaths, my body reeling. “I don’t want to wake—” I’m cut short by my own moan when he pushes apart my thighs and buries his head between my legs.
One sweep of his tongue across my clit has me vaulting off the vanity.
A second has me moaning like I’m possessed.
“You need to be quiet,” Brodie murmurs, his mouth barely an inch from my pussy. “Lucy can sleep through a hurricane, but when it comes to you and the possibility of you being in pain, she’ll hear everything.”
It is not the time to smile, but I can’t help it.
I’m smitten with that little girl and am so glad she feels the same way.
“Henley,” Brodie growls in warning when his hot breath blowing over my throbbing clit almost sets me off.
“I can’t help it,” I gripe while endeavoring to return his mouth to my pussy. “It feels too good. I need a gag. Do you have one of them?”
I was hoping he’d silence me with his cock. Instead, he uses his hand. He clamps it over my mouth before spearing his tongue inside me. He licks, bites, and eats until his palm muffles my screams, then doubles the flare of my nostrils by slowly sliding a finger inside me.
“Christ, Henley. You’re so tight.”
“It’s been a while,” I murmur into his hand, my words hardly coherent as my hips swivel to lessen the burn.
