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"You," I groaned back as I sucked on his full lower lip.
My hands naturally rose to grasp at the ends of his hair. Brandon's deft hands drifted up my sides, slipping over the cotton to cup my breasts, my ribs, the muscles in my back, my waist. He played with the hem again, but retreated. He was waiting for me to give him the okay to move forward.
I broke the kiss then, and Brandon stared, licking his swollen lips.
"Too fast?" he asked, out of breath.
His gripped the edge of the counter so hard that his knuckles turned white. I glanced down at them and back at him. It looked like he was physically struggling not to touch me. I felt the same.
Without blinking I reached down and pulled my dress over my head. He stared at my suddenly bared, lightly freckled skin, his mouth dropped open slightly.
"Christ, Skylar," he croaked as his gaze dragged up and down my body. "You are so beautiful it hurts." He blinked, blue eyes wide and glistening. "Say something."
I didn't. His look, his words made me feel too full. I was so overwhelmed by him––it was a feeling that never seemed to stop with Brandon––and the number of emotions swirling in me were too complicated to say. I craved clarity, and in this moment, the only thing that promised to do that was his body.
"Come here," I murmured finally.
I pawed his shirt over his head, eager to feel his skin on mine. I groaned as I found my payload: the smooth muscles of his chest, that broad expanse that I drew my fingers across before shoving them over his shoulders to pull him closer, skin to skin. With a grunt, he grasped my thighs again, eliciting a moan through his kiss with every deep knead of my flesh.
"God," he finally breathed as his mouth trailed down my neck, kissing, biting, licking until he could bury his face between my breasts. "I never stop wanting you," he groaned into the soft skin there. He kissed me again.
I reached behind to unsnap my bra. His muscles flexed all the way down his ridged stomach with tension as the bra fell to the floor. He stared hungrily where the tips of my hardened nipples grazed his chest, shuddered, then voraciously took them into his mouth, one at a time. As if acting of their own accord, my hips gyrated against his, eager to find some union there.
"Fuck!" he breathed as his stiff length pressed through his jeans and my thin cotton underwear. The hands at my ass squeezed even harder. "I need you. Right fucking now."
"I don't want to wait," I said into a salty sheen of sweat on his shoulder. I licked it. He tasted delicious.
A split second later, he had shredded the thin lace of my underwear and was busily shoving his pants down his legs.
"Shit," he muttered. "I...hold on. Condoms are in the other room."
I wilted slightly at his words as he pulled out of my grasp. Brandon noticed the small movement and stood tall.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
I bit my lip. If he needed a condom, did that mean he had slept with other people? Did he think I had slept with someone else?
You tried, I reminded myself.
As if he could read my doubts, he returned to stand between my legs, eyes dark and searching. "I haven't been with anyone else," he said quietly. "I couldn't."
I gulped. Relief washed over me, although his muscles tensed even more. He was clearly wondering the same thing about me.
"Neither have I," I whispered.
My hands trailed over the contours of his muscles: the elegant lines of his neck, over his deltoids, the curves of his defined biceps and triceps. He was so beautiful, with the grace of an athlete.
He searched me for a moment, as if looking for something I might have to hide. The tension in his body released, though his hands on my thighs still gripped with urgency.
"Are you...are you still on the pill?"
I shook my head. He started to step away, but I grasped his wrist.
"IUD," I said softly. "A few weeks ago."
His face turned feral. "Thank Christ."
Before I could respond, I was picked up from the counter and heaved over his large shoulder.
