by Lauren Runow
“That’s very mature of you.”
I lift my glass and take a sip of my wine, thinking back to that day when I thought I’d made up my mind. Funny how I haven’t really thought about that moment until now.
“So, what about you? Tell me something no one else knows about you.”
There’s a small pause as he places my feet back on the ground and pulls me tighter to him. The trees begin to whistle again.
“I looked into adopting a child,” he says, surprising the hell out of me.
“You what?” I ask, shocked.
He sighs and shakes his head. “I know. It’s ridiculous. The idea was weighing on me, and I started doing research, but I realized I was in way over my head and tried to forget about it.”
“How long ago was this?”
“Right after I turned thirty. My parents were thirty when I was born, so I started to think about how my life had turned out. There were a lot of what-ifs.”
“What-ifs?”
“What if my mom hadn’t died? What if I hadn’t become the head of a company at twenty-two years old? What if my father hadn’t married Missy? What if Austin wasn’t always running from his responsibilities? Am I where I thought I’d be at thirty?”
“Where’s that?”
“Married. Kids. Traveling. Definitely those three things. You know, I always thought I’d be the kinda guy with an RV, and I’d drive all over the country with my family, showing them places like Mount Rushmore or going fly fishing in Montana or visiting a dude ranch in Wyoming.”
My head tilts to the side as I glance in his direction. He’s staring out in the distance with a crooked smile and a glazed look in his eyes.
“You really want kids?” I ask softly.
His hand reaches down to gently touch my chin. “I do. Spending that day with Charlie, making the vegetable car, was the best day I’ve had in a long time.”
“Then, why didn’t you research it more?”
“Mainly because of my life and work schedule, but also because I wouldn’t want to raise a child without a woman by my side. My mom was amazing. She was everything to me. I wouldn’t want to deprive a child from that experience.”
“So, what now?”
His fingers intertwine with mine, pulling me into him. “For now, I live my life as God intended and hope there’s a reason he changed the course of my life … of our lives.”
Our eyes meet, and we stay here, unsure of where this is going or how we’ll make it work, but also neither of us seems scared enough to stop it.
My eyes roam from his to his lips and back up again. How in the world did I find a man like Bryce? I never thought there would be a man who could light my soul on fire and want to be a part of Charlie’s life as well.
My last bit of resolve snaps, and I’m ready to dive in. Ready for whatever this man brings me. But, most of all, I’m ready for him.
His hand moves up to cup my face, his gaze so soft while looking into my eyes. I know he feels it, too.
This is real.
We are real.
The doorbell rings, and I jump, breaking our trance of each other.
“I’ll be right back,” Bryce whispers before getting up and heading toward the house.
My head drops back as I close my eyes, inhaling deeply.
Bryce.
On the outside, he has this hardened exterior, but on the inside, he’s an explorer, a dreamer, a lover, and someone who just wants to experience the normalcy of life.
And so do I.
I’ve lived such a sheltered life since Charlie was born. I haven’t even thought about a man or what it would be like to feel a man’s touch in years.
Even when I was with Ashton, it was quick, rushed, more about him getting off than me. I know it will be different with Bryce, and I’m more than ready to start this next chapter of my life.
With him.
When he comes back, holding the pizza in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, I stand and walk toward him with determined steps.
I know exactly what I want.
He places the items down and starts to turn back toward the house when I lay my hand on his arm. He turns toward me, and his eyes darken when he sees the look I am giving him.
My skin is flush. There’s a rush of adrenaline and need pouring through my veins. My chest rises with a shaky breath that only comes when you’re out of your mind in lust for the man standing right in front of you. I don’t know if it’s right or wrong, and right now, I really don’t care.
I run my hand up his chest and hear the small groan release from his lips. Our eyes lock, and I say all I can as I let my palm travel down his muscular chest, over the peaks of his ribs, and down his taut stomach to rest just about his hip bone. His lips part as my fingers brush the top of his pajama pants.
I want Bryce. I want him to take me, to show me what it’s like to be loved by a man.
A real man.
A man who only knows the truth in a world full of dares.
His knuckle rises to graze my cheek. I fall into his touch, closing my eyes and feeling as it skims down my chin before his thumb traces my lips.
“I really want this,” Bryce whispers. “I want it so fucking bad, it hurts.”
My eyes flutter open. “I do, too.”
Instantly, his lips crash into mine as his arms wrap around my body, lifting me off the ground.
When his mouth opens, my heart melts, and tingles spread all the way to my toes. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer into me as I sweep my tongue against his.
Absolutely lost to the sensation that is Bryce Sexton, I barely notice when he starts to move, carrying me back into the house and toward the bedroom.
My heart races a mile a minute—not out of fear, but anticipation.
He slowly lowers us to the bed, lifting slightly just to look at me. His hand moves my hair out of the way before he leans down, bringing his lips to meet with mine again.
I feel his fingers run down my neck to my shoulder and then down my arm until they meet the bottom of my shirt. Teasing, he flips around the hem until I feel the warmth of his hand against my bare skin.
The way he takes his time, slowly caressing my body, his large hand gripping my waist from front to back, builds so much excitement within me.
When a low growl releases from his mouth, I drop my head back in ecstasy. I’ve never felt so sexy, so much like a woman in my life.
Needing to feel more of him, I reach around and tug on his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. He releases our kiss just long enough to remove his clothing, and—holy shit—I get the first full look of Bryce’s chest.
I’ve seen guys in pictures, men who have hair on their chests or six-pack stomachs, but none of them compare to seeing Bryce standing in front of me in the flesh.
Ashton was a boy, nothing but scrawny arms and white skin. Bryce is all man. His shoulders are wide, and the way he’s holding himself up, naturally flexing his muscles, would bring me to my knees if I wasn’t already lying down.
The small bit of chest hair that lines his pecs is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
Until I see the look in his eyes.
While I was ogling his body, he was staring down at me. Waiting for my approval. Waiting for me to get my fill, and my God, I have.
He slowly lifts my shirt, pulling it over my head, revealing the black lace bra I have on underneath.
When his lips meet with my neck and his hand grips my breast, my back arches off the bed, and a moan escapes my lips. Bryce has barely touched me, yet I’ve never been so turned on in my life.
I feel needy. I feel greedy. I already want more of him. I don’t want this to stop.
Ever.
When we’re done and we both get our fill, I want to start all over again. I want to be brought right back to this feeling over and over again.
I never knew intimacy could feel like this. So helpless yet totally in control. So absolutely enthralled in another hum
an being, like you can’t get enough of them yet they are right there with you, every part of their body touching you, yet you need more.
So much more.
When he pulls my bra down, making my breasts pop out, before running his tongue over one nipple, I swear, a zing runs through my body, and I gasp at the feeling. The feeling of him and knowing this is only the beginning. I’m not sure if I can handle what he can do to me. What my body is yearning for so much.
I run my hands through his hair, pulling tightly as my back arches again. “Bryce,” I whisper through my teeth.
“Fuck. That is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I need you, Tessa. More than you’ll ever know.”
His hips roll into mine, and my greediness turns into pure torture.
When I reach my hand down to grip him through his pajama pants, a low moan escapes my lips, and tingles surround my clit.
I’ve never needed anything in my life as badly as I need him inside me, showing me what it’s like to truly be with the man you’re meant to be with.
His fingers dip below my waistband, and I swear, the tingling I was feeling before is nothing compared to the throbbing my clit is doing now. He roams his way over my body, on top of my panties, making the sensation even worse.
I need pressure.
I need girth.
I need him.
When he finally makes his way inside my panties, I swear, the earth stands still with just one flick of his finger against me. Jolts of pleasure rip through me as a scream escapes my lips.
His mouth crashes against mine, capturing every moan, every scream, every breath, while his fingers work me up in a frenzy. When he slips one finger inside me, I explode around him.
My legs tighten, my breath hitches, and my entire body goes rigid as waves ignite up my body, through my chest, and out to my fingertips.
I never knew what it felt like to have someone else give you an orgasm, and my mind goes blank as the waves of serenity roll through me.
“God, Tessa. Your pussy just squeezed my finger so tight; I thought it would cut off the circulation. Please tell me you can handle more. I’m not sure I can live without being inside you right now.”
When my brain comes to, my eyes open, staring at the man in front of me in absolute awe. I run my hands up his arms to his shoulders and cup his face. “I want this, Bryce. Please. Please don’t stop now.”
“Thank God.”
His lips crash into mine again, working their way down my neck and to my chest where he fully removes my bra, kissing each nipple as they appear before moving down my stomach and sliding off the remainder of my clothes, leaving me completely naked and absolutely soaked.
He lifts himself from the bed for a brief moment, reaching into his suitcase for a condom and then removing his pajama pants and boxers.
My heart races at the sight of his enormous cock on full display. My body’s still a tingly mess from my first orgasm, but seeing him in all his glory lights that fire within me again.
I’m dying to know what he feels like. What being stretched to the nines by his cock will do to my body.
A low ache builds once more, and the greediness comes back in. I want him inside me, and I want it now.
His eyes meet mine as he slides on the condom. I lick my lips, and the smirk he gives me in return is all I need to drive me wild.
As he lowers himself on top of me, my heart pounds, and my eyes close. Every sensation is so overwhelming, but when he slides inside me for the first time, I’m done for.
A moan works its way out, the deepest I’ve ever heard be released from my body, as I spread my legs more, needing him to fill me as much as possible.
His hands find mine, intertwining my fingers, and he pulls on them when he pushes further.
“Fuck me, Tessa. My God. Your body feels … I …”
His manly growl tickles my ear. I tightly wrap my legs around him, bringing him in the rest of the way and relishing in the full feeling running through my body, deep inside.
“Bryce,” I barely get out as he moves out and then back in.
My head drops, and my eyes roll back in my head. Sensations I’ve never felt race through me. Every inch, every centimeter of my body is lit on fire by this man, as if I were fireworks burning their way down the wick before they exploded.
All by his doing.
“Yes,” I scream as he starts to thrust his way inside me.
My fingers run down his back, grabbing his ass and squeezing tightly, needing something to help relieve the build of pressure igniting inside me again.
I never want this to stop. It can’t. I want him to fuck me again and again if this is the feeling I’ll get every time.
The way his body slides in and out of mine drives me wild. Just those mere inches leave me dying for more as he pulls out, but when he slides back in, I feel like I’m going to die from ecstasy with every thrust.
More and more, my temperature rises. My body tingles, and my limbs start to shake when I hold on to him for what feels like dear life.
“Oh God, Tessa. Yes, give it to me,” he whispers into my ear.
And I do.
I explode yet again, clenching on his cock in waves I didn’t even know were possible. The groan that releases from his mouth as he grips my entire body, squeezing me just as hard, does me in.
19
BRYCE
We ate cold pizza.
It was the best fucking pizza I’d ever had in my entire life.
It feels like I’ve been chasing Tessa forever when it’s only been a few weeks. It’s amazing how my life has altered in that short amount of time.
For instance, the internet connection has always been terrible at this house. Had I come here more often, I would have completed the final installation of the server that would give me internet access at any time. Since I didn’t, I am stuck with no way of checking my emails, and my phone is getting the worst service. I have a few voicemails from my father that I haven’t listened to. Usually, I’m quick to return calls. Today, I don’t feel like leaving bed.
I’ve been up since six and spent a good portion of my morning watching Tessa sleep. Her lips, which are always set in a pout, are plump as she lets out tiny gasps in her sleep. At first, I thought she was having a nightmare. Turns out, she laughs in her sleep. It’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
Her long, silky hair is splayed out on the pillow. I run my fingers through it, as I have been all morning. Each time I do, she smiles softly and cuddles into me. I hold her and run my hand down her back, counting the tiny beauty marks she has on her shoulder. There are seven.
When I get up to use the bathroom, I use the one in the hallway so as not to disturb her. I throw on my pajama bottoms and brush my teeth. When I go back to the room, the bed is empty.
I walk into the living room to see Tessa standing by the bookcase, wearing my T-shirt and nothing else. She has a copy of To Kill a Mockingbird in her hands.
I walk up behind her, lace my fingers around her waist, and lean down to rest my chin on her shoulder.
“Good morning,” I say. “I wasn’t expecting you to be up.”
“The bed was cold without you.” She turns her head to kiss my shoulder and then puts the book back on the shelf.
The bookcases cover the entire wall and are filled from top to bottom. Many books are collecting dust, as they haven’t been pried open in years.
“These were my mother’s. She loved to read. We didn’t have a TV here when we were kids just so she could make sure we spent our days outside. If it rained, we either worked on puzzles or read books.”
She looks up at the hundreds of books. “How many of these have you read?”
“All of them.”
I feel her body jolt. “All of them? I can’t even sit still for a dirty romance novel.”
My groin twitches. “You read romance?”
Her shoulders rise. “Sometimes. I prefer movies though.”
“Ah, yes. Th
e superhero variety if I recall.” My comment makes her giggle.
She relaxes into me. “Do you still like to read?”
“I don’t have as much time as I used to, but I try to sneak in a few chapters here and there.”
She spins in my arms and laces her hands around my neck. “What are you reading right now?”
“The Great Gatsby. Tanner thought I needed a lesson in the American dream,” I say.
Her brows curve together in confusion. I lean forward and kiss the line that’s formed there.
“Have you seen the movie?”
“Is Henry Cavill in it?”
“No.”
“Then, I didn’t see it.” She smiles and looks up into my eyes. “Will you read to me?”
I’ve never read out loud before. I’ve also never had a girl ask me to read out loud to her. I think I’ll like it though.
I take her hands and walk her over to the couch. There’s an afghan hanging on the back, so I lay it over her. My bag is in the bedroom, so I grab my book along with my glasses and walk back to the living room. I lift her legs and take a seat on the couch, laying her feet on my lap and propping my own on the coffee table.
I start from the beginning and read to her.
The book is short in comparison to most books, so I figure I’ll stop when she either shows signs of being hungry or bored or until she falls asleep. To my surprise, she’s not doing any of the three.
For three hours, I continue to read. She lies on the pillow with her hand draped behind her head. The sunlight pours through the back windows as we lie in a sleepy corner of the living room and enjoy an afternoon of literature and lounging.
“That’s so incredibly sad,” she says as I close the book, having read the final page.
Her tiny frown makes me laugh. “It is.”
“Who ends a book like that?”
