by Elise Faber
It could be.
Heart still tripping along, her pulse still skittering in her veins, she peeled his hands from her cheeks, lacing their fingers together. “Okay,” she murmured. “What do you need to tell me?”
What could this man possibly tell her that he thought might have her bolting for the door?
His eyes were equal parts wary and concerned.
“I keep people at a distance, so they can’t leave me.” He swallowed hard. “So they can’t hurt me.”
She waited.
Because clearly, there must be more to this.
“I’ve done it since I was a kid,” he said. “I didn’t really realize it until recently, but I think it started when my mom got sick. It was easier to pretend everything was fine, that I was fine.” He sighed. “But the truth is that I continued doing it, and I used traveling as an excuse to keep my distance even more.”
She squeezed his hands. “Hard to have a serious relationship when you’re out of the country all the time.”
“Yes. That.”
“I’m sorry your mom was sick,” she said.
His eyes softened. “It was a long time ago.”
“She’s a big presence in your guys’ lives, though.” Heidi slipped one hand free so she could push back her hair that seemed determined to get into her eyes. “I can tell that just from the couple of times I’ve met her.”
“She is,” he told her. “She’s the glue that holds everything together.”
“I can see how the fear of losing that might affect you.”
Brad stilled. “Why am I hearing a but?”
She winced. “Well, it’s not so much a but—”
He cursed. “I get it,” he said, interrupting her and taking off down a tangent that had nothing to do with anything that she’d been thinking. “I understand why you wouldn’t want to trust your heart with someone who’s just going to flit off and leave you alone—someone who’s already done that. I totally get it if you want me to just keep my distance, to not keep pursuing you. Hell, if I was in your position, I wouldn’t have been nearly as nice or understanding as you’ve been. I would have kicked my ass to the curb and—”
“Are you?” she interrupted, having the feeling that if she didn’t interrupt, then she might never get another word in edgewise. He was too far along the road of self-chastisement, determined to flagellate himself until he was sufficiently punished for his transgressions.
She saw now.
She understood now. What was in her heart . . . and what was in his.
Beyond the courage she’d summoned to take a chance with him, beyond her own hang-ups with self-worth, she saw that this man would take every opportunity to carry more than his fair share of burdens. He’d continue taking them on, one after another, piling them across his shoulders until he couldn’t take a step, couldn’t move forward at all.
Unless she stopped him.
His words had faltered at her question, but he didn’t answer it.
So, she prompted him again. “Are you?”
He blinked. “Am I what?”
“Are you going to flit off and leave me to wake up in my bed all alone again?”
His expression clouded. “Fuck, no,” he said. “I’ve spent the last months imagining all the places I want to take you, everything I want you to see. If I travel, I want you right by my side.”
“So, that’s it?”
Brows drawing together, he cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”
“Is that all of your baggage? Everything that would have me kicking you to the proverbial curb?”
“I—um—I—” His mouth opened and closed a few times, sounds rumbling up from his throat but not coalescing into actual words.
She took pity on him. “I get keeping people at a distance, honey. I have a fucking PhD in the subject myself. My parents . . . well, my dad is great, if sometimes a bit distant, and my mom . . . she’s not so great, even though I keep telling myself that she always means well. It’s just . . . she’s not like your mom, and she’s given me some wounds that run deep. So trusting people doesn’t come easily for me. So I might push you away to stay safe.” She trailed the fingers of her free hand along his jaw. “The thing is you say you’ve used avoiding connections like a shield. And I get that. I feel that sentiment in my bones. I’ve had my heart broken, have that baggage with my mom, and those hurts, they fucking suck.” She swallowed. “But when I saw how happy Kate was with Jaime, when I saw the relationship Kels has with Tanner, I knew that I wanted that.”
She rested her palm on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath. “I was fucking terrified to take that first step, to even admit that what I had in my life wasn’t enough, but I did it. I promised myself that I would try, would hold tight to the truth that I was worth finding something as special as they had, and I did find it.” Smiling up at him, she said, “Also newsflash, what I found was you.”
He inhaled sharply.
She pressed a kiss to his lips. “Because you’re good and smart and caring and so much more than I could have hoped for, even with that armor on. But you know what’s better?”
He shook his head.
“I think we’ve both come to the conclusion that whatever this is between us is different, is more. That it has the potential to be what Kate and Jaime have, what Kels and Tanner do, too.”
She released a breath, laid the resolution she’d come to just before calling Kate and waking her friend up in the middle of the night on her honeymoon, who’d then had to wake up Jaime to get Brad’s address, on the table (also, yes, she knew that she’d rung the alarm at the gossip committee and that her friends and all their nosiness would be descending shortly . . . but also, she didn’t care, because Brad was important. Maybe it was something in the Huntington gene pool, maybe it was just the power of Brad himself . . . or maybe she was digressing when she really should be focusing on telling this man what was in her heart).
“So what I’m trying to tell you is to bring that armor, carry that big ass shield, try to keep me at a distance because I won’t stay away. Because . . . my armor is gone,” she said. “Or maybe when it came to you, honey, I never had any.”
He was still as a statue, hardly breathing, his eyes locked on hers.
Meanwhile, she was breathing heavily, her heart pounding, her lungs working hard after that long-ass speech.
And he was frozen, shock written into every line of his face.
“Did I break you?” she asked, jostling his chest lightly.
Her question seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he’d stumbled into, because he blinked, his hand slipped from hers, his arms banded around her, and he drew her flush against him. “No,” he whispered. “You didn’t break me. You turned the key, made me see exactly what I was missing.”
Her heart pulsed, happiness welling within her. “Great,” she said, wrapping her arms around him in turn, bringing their mouths close so the barest millimeter separated them. “So now, will you get back to kissing me?”
She had one quick glimpse of that slow, sexy smile of his, the one that always melted her from the inside out.
Then his mouth was on hers.
Nineteen
Brad
Kissing.
It was all back to kissing.
Only this time, it was without the cloud hanging over him, the tendrils of dread in his gut. He was able to just be in this moment with the woman he loved and really fucking enjoy kissing the hell out of her.
There was no hesitation in their touches, in the strokes of their tongues.
They’d gotten that all out of their systems months ago. Tonight was about leaning into those caresses, holding tight to the passion, embracing the need that made his hands shake and sweat break out on his back. It was about remembering every single thing that had made this woman moan, her breathing hitch, her eyes glaze over in desire.
And then he was doing them all on repeat.
One quick movement
had their positions reversed and moved down on the bed, her head hitting the pillow, her back on the mattress, her body sprawled out beneath him.
Then he was kissing her again, stroking his tongue along the seam of her lips, tasting the mix of sweet and tart that was only Heidi. She opened, and their tongues collided, waltzing around each other, a frenzy of movements that had him groaning into her mouth.
But his hands weren’t stationary. They were busy, remembering every curve, slipping beneath the fabric of her sweatshirt and finding the hot skin beneath. Her breathing hitched when he traced up and over her rib cage, before that hiccup of air turned into a soft, low moan that had his blood going molten. He traced higher, slipping beneath the band of her bra, fingers grazing the underside of one breast before moving to the other in a steady back and forth that had her head falling back on the pillows, their lips pulling apart.
He didn’t want to stop kissing her, didn’t want to lose that taste on his tongue.
But he supposed there were plenty of other places demanding to be kissed, beginning with the hardened tip of her nipple that was beading against the fabric of her bra, poking through the lace to press against his palm when he cupped one breast lightly.
Dragging his mouth down her neck, he tasted the salt mixing with sweet and spice and tart, soaking it in as he made his way to the zipper at the top of her hoodie, tugging it down, the zip loud in the quiet of the room only punctuated by rapid breaths and the occasional thunk from his loud ass neighbors overhead. Knowing he’d never get to kiss and touch like he wanted without removing it, he coaxed the sweatshirt down her arms, tossed it to the side, and then stared down at this woman, at his beautiful Heidi—
Who was wearing a T-shirt that said, I Make Bad Science Puns . . . Periodically.
And he laughed.
Because she was different. Because she was funny. Because she was just so . . . Heidi.
“What is it?” she asked, reaching for his shoulders.
He smoothed his hand over her cheek, down her arm, along her torso, and stopped, slipping it under the hem of her shirt to rest on the warm heat of her abdomen.
“You’re just so fucking perfect for me.”
Her eyes widened, lips parting, and he couldn’t resist one more taste of that mouth, enticing her into a heated kiss that had them both gasping, and at least for him, his vision edged in black by the time he managed to tear himself away. But though he left her to draw in a breath, he didn’t remove his mouth from her body. Instead, he dragged it over her throat, dipped his tongue into the small hollow at the base of her neck, nipped lightly at her collarbones. Still, the fucking fabric of her shirt impeded him, so he managed to pull himself away from her long enough to tug the cotton over her head, to toss it somewhere in the vicinity of her hoodie.
But when he went to return his mouth to her skin, bent on kissing every inch, she placed her hand on his chest, stilling him.
His eyes met hers.
“Naked first,” she said.
Well, now. He could work with that.
His fingers went to work on her pajamas, tugging them off her legs and dragging her underwear down along with them. Those two went by the wayside, and a heartbeat later, he’d slipped a hand beneath her, undoing her bra and peeling the pale pink lace away.
Naked.
Yes. So much better.
But when he went to crawl back on top of her, she stopped him again with her hand on his chest.
He glanced down, realized he’d forgotten her socks, and tugged those off as well.
But she halted him again before he could sink between her thighs.
“What?” he asked, mouth watering with the need to taste, fingers itching to touch.
Her color was high, her lips reddened and swollen from his kisses, but still her voice was steady when she ordered, “You need to be naked, too.”
That was what he wanted.
That was also a big problem.
Because he wanted this woman quite desperately, and if he was naked, too, he might embarrass them both. Well, embarrass himself, and make her quite unhappy.
“Heidi,” he began.
She shook her head, arms crossing beneath her breasts, plumping the mounds into a nearly irresistible temptation. “No, Brad. No dice. You get naked right now, or else this isn’t happening.”
“I—”
“I don’t care if you’re nearly at the end of your control, or if you want to enjoy me first, or whatever other bullshit man stuff you have flitting through that brain of yours.” Her eyes flashed with irritation. “I need to be able to touch you, to feel your skin on my palms, to hold your body to mine without any barriers. Another time you can tease me until your heart’s content.” Her gaze softened. “But tonight, I need you to be right here with me.”
He would have agreed, just because she asked.
But her giving him the words, telling him what was in her heart and mind . . . well, that absolutely slayed him.
And he knew in that moment, that he would never be able to deny this woman anything. He’d been written into existence for her, just as she’d been made to fit him perfectly.
They had the potential to be like his brother and Kate.
No, they would be like his brother and Kate.
Minus the rooster and gaggle of animals.
Though, as he stood and methodically stripped off his clothes, letting them drop to the floor, he knew that just as he couldn’t deny Heidi what she wanted, if she asked for a rooster, he’d buy the bird the fucking tuxedo himself.
A moment later, Fuzzy McFeatherston wasn’t the cock he was thinking of. All his focus was diverted to the woman grabbing onto the cock swinging between his legs. The cock that was harder than he’d ever believed possible and throbbing with the need to spread Heidi’s thighs and plunge deep.
Seemingly reading his mind, or at least the mind of the body part south of the border, she kept her grip tight, sliding it up and down the hard length of him. “Please say you have a condom,” she murmured.
He was in the middle of biting back a groan, his hips thrusting forward, pleasure rolling down his spine in waves, when he realized what she’d asked.
What she’d asked.
And what he didn’t have.
Fuck. Fuck.
The groan he’d bit back burst forth, startling her into opening her eyes, the hazel depths cloudy with need . . . and then sharpening as horror dawned. “You don’t have a condom?”
He shook his head. “I’ve been meaning to pick some up, but I’ve been too busy with . . .”
She was shoving him off her, and for a moment, he thought he’d revealed the straw that had broken the camel’s back. But then she was striding across the room, glorious ass bouncing as she stalked to her purse, which apparently had fallen near the couch, and scooping it up.
She strode back, and he was torn where to look—those bouncing breasts, lower to the neatly trimmed dark hair hiding the pussy he wanted to get his mouth on and his tongue inside, or to any of the tempting places in between. The trio of freckles beneath her right nipple, the star-shaped tattoo on her rib cage, the dainty dip of her belly button, the faint birthmark on her hip.
Hell, he would even be thrilled to put in quality time with her feet, with those cute little toes, their nails now painted in a bright pink, all except for the big toe, which had a tiny rendering of a palm tree.
A palm tree that was tapping just beneath his line of vision, Heidi having made her way back to stand by the bed.
She cleared her throat, and he forced his gaze to rise to hers, albeit taking a slow, meandering path up those strong and sensual legs, past the thighs he needed to lick his way up, beyond her stomach and ribs and even her breasts, though it lingered there long enough for her to clear her throat for a second time.
But then his eyes were on hers.
“Do women have to do everything?” she snapped, but her stare gave her away, warmth turning the grays and browns and greens of her eyes into a
deep russet with streaks of gold, any anger having been edged out by amusement.
Out of the corner of his vision, he saw her wave her hand, and what she was holding finally captured his focus.
He reached for the plastic square—or probably, he lunged for it, so desperate he was to be inside her at this point—but she danced back, holding it out of reach. “Uh-uh,” she said, wickedness creeping into her expression. She stepped forward again, pushed him back onto the mattress. “She who brings the condom gets to ride the prize.”
“Heidi.”
“No arguments.”
He snagged a hand around her waist, yanked the condom out of her grip, and tore it open with his teeth. A second later, it was on his cock and he was lying back, tugging her over him, coaxing her down onto the hard length of him.
“I don’t care if you’re on top,” he said, breaths coming in short, staccato bursts. “So long as I’m inside—ah . . .” Holy fuck, that was good, the hot, tight sheath of her slipping down over him. “. . . you.”
She bottomed out, and they both groaned in satisfaction, in relief, in . . . coming home.
Then she began to move. With slow, deliberate strokes that told him she hadn’t forgotten their night together, that she’d remembered everything that had sent his blood boiling, his pleasure skyrocketing. His eyes rolled back, hips jerking up to meet her movements, and the tiny semblance of control he managed to keep hold of poofed away.
Gone. Disappeared to God knew where.
He forgot his own name.
He forgot to breathe.
He forgot to do anything but catapult toward the edge of oblivion, doing everything in his power to bring this woman along with him as she rode him hard and fast, bringing his release forward far too quickly. He knew he wouldn’t last long, knew he needed to get her there. She bucked against his thumb when he circled her clit, her thighs clenching tightly around him, her moans faltering and then breaking long and loud when he lurched up to suck a nipple deep.
But then her moans changed.
And she got close.
And then she was over.
Thank fuck.
Because then he was there, too.
