by Gunn, Jenna
“You don’t have to.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not leaving you here alone, and you wouldn’t agree to coming to my house. So here we are.”
I’m not used to someone with his conviction.
Well, except Bishop, his brother. But Bishop and I don’t get too personal. Sure, we’re good pals, but we mostly surf together. I usually go my way and he goes his own when we get out of the water.
The floor creaks softly beneath my feet as I move around, turning on the lamps.
Brandon lowers himself to the orgy-worthy built in sofa. It’s covered in faded pink leather but he acts like it’s nothing odd. He stretches his legs out, making himself right at home.
His dark eyes seem almost...patient as he watches me flit about.
After a few minutes of pacing around, I finally sit on the other end of the couch. My hands fidget, twisting around on themselves. “I don’t have cable or internet.”
His eyes crinkle as he smiles. “I’m fine.”
I pop up and pace across the floor. “I can’t sit still.”
He chuckles. “What do you do when you’re home?”
“Sleep. Eat. Laundry.”
“Well, we can do those same things.”
“Oh, that reminds me, I need to put this burrito in the fridge. Can I get you some water?” I pull the leftover burrito from my purse and jet off to the kitchen.
“Sure.” He says from right behind me, making me jump. When I turn, he’s leaning casually in the doorway. That’s when I’m reminded again of how big he is. Those broad shoulders nearly fill the span of the opening.
His interesting mix-color eyes follow me. “Do I make you nervous?”
My head bobs up and down before I can stop it.
“The other night you didn’t seem so nervous.”
I fill a glass for him, drop in some ice cubes. “I had my armor on.”
“The comedian armor?”
“I learned it as a kid, I guess. I got good at deflecting redhead jokes… and weird shit my parents did. But for some damn reason I can’t find my mask tonight.”
He takes a slow step toward me. I extend the cup. Brandon wraps his hand around it, around my fingers too, and guides it to the countertop. When the glass is safely on the counter, he slides his hands up, cups my face with his big warm palms.
Something honest and powerful passes between us. “You don’t have to hide from me.”
I try to swallow, but just end up grinding my vocal cords together.
His eyes dance, “God, you’re beautiful. The vulnerable side, the funny side, the strong side. All of them are perfect.”
I bite on my lip. I want to believe his words are true.
A stutter in my heart makes my breath hitch.
There’s something happening behind my rib cage that feels scary. Is this normal?
The thick, warm pad of his thumb traces over my lower lip. “You bite your lip right here when you’re uncertain.”
“I do?”
He nods. “And you touch your right ear when you’re worried.”
“I do?”
His smile deepens, “and your eyes turn dark, dark blue when you’re aroused. Just like right now.”
“Am I that easy to read?”
“Am I right? You’re aroused by me, aren’t you?”
I nod and a tiny smile crosses my lips.
Aroused? Not even close. I’m electrified by him.
He does it for me. His height, his strength. The intense way he looks at me.
Every cell in my body feels his vibration when he gets near. Stirring me from head to toe.
His breath whispers over me and I lean in.
Our eyes hold as the inches between us become a tiny hint of space. Slowly, he inhales. His nostrils flare and I feel the dark masculine energy course through his body.
A low growl vibrates his chest. It’s a primal message to everything in me that is a woman.
My body responds with a wave of liquid heat sliding through every single artery and vein.
This time when his mouth meets mine, a hand glides from my face down to my low back. The heat of his palm against me turns my hunger into a firestorm.
I’m suddenly molten, everything going soft and golden inside as he fits his big rock hard body to mine.
Then the slow assault on my mouth and my sanity begins. His tongue rolls seductively across mine, explores every single intimate corner of my mouth. It’s a dance that mimics what it could be like between our bodies.
It’s perfect.
No, not perfect. There are no words in the human language to describe the way his mouth feels on me.
He tilts me back over his arm as he hungrily moves against my lips, my tongue, my teeth.
Pure, raw, masculine heat wraps around me as my smaller body is enveloped in his incredibly strong arms.
The ache that lances through my center is so powerful that it makes me quiver.
Want is gone in an instant.
Need is the roaring replacement.
I need this man naked, surrounding me, filling me, chasing away the shadows inside me.
Brandon lifts me with the slightest effort, sets me on the black and white tile kitchen counter. He wedges himself between my legs. Rubs his scruff against my neck, pulls my earlobe into his mouth. “I’m dangerously turned on.”
“That makes two of us, I’m afraid I’m about to do something embarrassing” I breathe on a laugh. “Like go all Edward Scissor-hands on your clothes.”
“There’s my funny girl. Feel free. I’ve got more clothes at home.” He murmurs as his hands slide beneath my shirt. Shivers run through the muscles under my skin as the rough pads of his fingers trace over my ribs.
“May I?” His hands slowly glide around my back and skim along the clasp of my bra.
“You don’t have to ask any more. I’m in for whatever…”
I feel his smile against my cheek. “Careful what you say, little one, because I’m hungry for something raw and primal.”
I gasp. My clit pulses.
I’m sooooo ready.
If the man can do that with just words… what will he do when his body pushes into mine?
My thighs contract around his strong hips. His tongue traces my ear, then seeks my lips again. He angles his head just the right amount and forces me open to his quest.
His hair is soft under my fingertips. I mold the shape of his thick shoulders. His strong neck. The delicious contrasts of hard and smooth, and soft and hot are burned into my cells as my hands memorize him.
Cool air makes my skin prickle as he lifts my top and sports bra off over my head. My nipples bead painfully. I want those strong hands there. And far below, where I’m aching for him.
God. The man’s yet to even touch me in any erotic places, but he’s got me shaking with need.
I lean back, lifting my breasts, shivering, desperate. Needing to be touched. His eyes dance as he watches my body writhe. Then with lightning speed his hot wet mouth is on my right nipple.
“Ah! Oh, oh my goddd!” I cry.
My hands fly to the counter, grasping for the edge, as I arch higher into him. Holy nipplegasm!
His teeth graze me, his tongue swirls, and then he sucks me so exquisitely.
I moan, my head falling back. My neck suddenly gone loose.
A gruff sound comes from his throat, then he moves to the other side and I yelp out my pleasure. “Brandon!”
His hand drags my hips forward, grinding me hard against the thick ridge in his lifeguard swim trunks. “For fuck’s sake, I have to have you.” he growls. He hoists me up, spins us around and climbs right on top of me on the kitchen table.
His voice is thick. “What are you doing to me, woman? I want to claim you, mark you, drive so hard into you that you’ll be nailed to this table for days. You’re making me lose my mind.”
“Me?” I squeak. “This is us. It’s not me.”
He tears off his shirt, and I feast on him. Oh, I’
ve seen him shirtless before, lifeguarding on the beach and last night, but seeing him here over me is so much more potent...
Like he was made just for my eyes alone.
My fingers stroke over the carved shapes of his chest as he leans over me again.
“I love this,” I whisper as I graze my fingers across the big ram tattoo on his left pec. “Aries?”
“Yes.” He groans, leans into my hand. “Fuck, I love you touching me like that.”
I skim down the narrow trail of hair that leads below his dark blue board shorts. “You still wearing these for a reason?”
“Yep, because I’m running the show. Not him.”
I grin.
“Can he come out to play soon?”
He nips at the soft underside of my breast. “Soon enough.”
“No, not soon enough,” I protest with a pout.
He skims a finger below the edge of my tights. My body jolts. His eyes grow dark. “Ready?”
“God, yes.”
He grabs my hips then rips my tights and panties halfway down my thighs. I blink at him, stunned, thrilled.
I love the animal side of him as much as I love the gentleman. A thrill races through me.
What will it be like to have a lover that’s so strong and dominant?
Soon I’ll know.
Brandon’s amazing hot mouth bites at my right hip. Then slides farther to the left and nibbles at my navel.
I want to scream. I want to beg. I want to grab his head and shove him down to my clit.
I gasp for air. Claw at the table to restrain myself.
He laughs against my skin. “I can tell already, I love making you crazy.”
“Do I have to beg?”
“Nope.”
I almost come out of my skin when his tongue, wet and strong, swipes over my clit in a demanding taste. Rough hands strip my tights and panties completely off.
My legs fall open, but his palms latch onto my thighs and spread me so wide I might just tear in half. The man shows no mercy as he devours me.
I’m vibrating. Screaming. Gasping for air for so long, I feel faint.
He’s relentless. Pushing me, driving me toward a stronger release than I’ve ever known.
I’m literally his feast, right here on the kitchen table.
His finger skims along my folds and dips inside of me.
Yes. Yes. I’m going to explode.
My mind goes blank as I fall into a crazy space where nothing but his mouth and my pulsing flesh exist.
Then I hear something. The sound pulls me back from the brink. My eyes flash open. Is that…?
“Stop. Stop!” I yell. Brandon raises up. His mouth is coated with my juices. His eyes cut toward the sound as he wipes his mouth with his wrist.
My phone is ringing and vibrating on the kitchen counter.
I shove him back. “That’s Cameron’s ring.” I drop down from the table and stumble across the room on wobbly legs.
My fingers barely work well enough to answer. My breath is sawing in and out. “Cam, Cam, can you hear me?”
“Hey, yeah, I hear you fine. What are you doing? Running a marathon?”
“Uh, no. Where are you?” I cross my arms across my very naked, very shaky body.
Cameron hesitates on the other end of the call. “With some friends.”
“Are you in town? We need to talk, please come home now.”
“I can’t come right now.”
There’s loud music in the background. It sounds oddly familiar.
“Cameron. I know you owe someone money. They sent a man to talk to me.”
His breath is hoarse as he sucks in air suddenly. “Look, sis, stay away from them okay.”
I glance at Brandon. His face is stone serious.
“Cam, the man they sent got in a fight with someone who was looking out for me.”
“I’m working on getting the money.”
“How much?”
There’s men’s laughter in the background. Then a woman’s voice says. “Come on folks, give our cotton candy a try.”
What the hell? Where is he? My brain searches the background noises.
“How much Cameron? I need to know.”
“Fifteen K.”
I almost drop the phone. “How in the world did you get fifteen thousand in debt?”
My body flashes cold. I start to shiver. It’s worse than I ever imagined. It will take me more than a year to come up with fifteen grand. I have nothing left to sell but my car. I need my car to work.
I grip the edge of the counter. That’s when I feel Brandon approach. His hand slides quietly under my hair, he gently massages my neck. His serious eyes never leave mine.
“Come home, Cam. I’ll help figure this out.”
“No, Anya. I’m busy.”
I can’t hold back the bitter laugh, “Busy? Come on, Cam. Living on the street is doing only one thing, getting you in more trouble.”
He doesn’t answer.
The background sounds disappear.
“Cameron! Don’t—”
I groan. The phone says the call has ended.
“Dammit!” Clenching my fist around the phone, I seriously contemplate smashing it. Stupid, I know. I’d just have to buy another one.
8
Anya’s eyes are filled with hurt and disappointment when she sets the phone down. “Sorry, that was a buzzkill of a lifetime.”
I rub her shoulders, hoping to ease the deep crease between her strawberry blonde brows. She turns into my arms when I pull her to me and kiss the top of her head. “Sh. It’s not your fault.”
I feel her shivering against me. “You’re cold. Why don’t you go grab a shower?”
“I’m really sorry…”
I tip her mouth up to mine. “Don’t be. We’ll do that again soon.”
“The shower sounds good.” She picks up her clothes from the floor without looking at me and quietly walks away.
I bury my hands in my face. Holy shit. Fucking buzzkill is right. Talk about blue balls. Adjusting my shorts, I try to get things back in order down there.
I’m not really worried about what we didn’t finish. I’m worried about the woman down the hall in the shower. She’s snared in some ugly as hell tangled web.
My instinct is to rip her right out of the middle of it. Take her to my house and tell the brother to fuck off.
But who am I?
No one to her. Some dude that showed up at the bar, then won’t leave her alone.
It would be no wonder if she didn’t agree to letting me into her world. Seems she’s kept the door tightly closed to outside help. Fought the battles herself. Damned hard battles, too.
Her loyalty to family runs deep. Just how deep? I need to find out.
I hear a door open in the distance.
I should let her be. But that’s not what I do.
I pad on bare feet to her bedroom. The door’s open.
A soft-looking pink robe covers from her slender neck to the tip of her toes. Her pixie size makes everything big on her. Her hair is wrapped in a big white towel that’s stacked on top of her head. The whole effect is like a tasty looking ice cream cone that I’d like to lick.
Anya glances over her shoulder at me. “I know you want me to talk.”
“I do. You don’t have to keep this inside you, Anya. I want to try to help you.”
“Can we sit on the bed? I don’t like the stupid living room decor.”
This is a good sign. She didn’t say no—maybe we’re getting somewhere.
“Of course.” I lower myself down to the edge of the bed while she climbs up by the pillows.
Anya twists her fingers together. That’s another one of her tells.
She draws in a big ragged breath.
“Hey, it’s okay.” I reach and pull her hand into mine. “What did he say?”
“He’s working on getting the money. He said stay away from the guy… of course.” Her eyes go wide suddenly. “Oh, my god. How d
id I not notice this before… there’s still a bit of a bruise on your cheek?”
I touch the spot, “It’s almost gone now.”
Her eyes soften, “I feel terrible.”
“Oh, I’ve had much worse. This is nothing. You should try growing up with four brothers.”
“Don’t act like it’s nothing, please. This happened because of me.”
I shrug. “Let’s get back to what you were going to tell me. Where’s your brother?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
Anya unwinds the towel from her hair and lets her red curls tumble down around her shoulders. They’re much darker when wet. She reaches for a pick on the nightstand.
“Do you know where he usually goes?”
She starts working the pick through her curls. “Somewhere down in San Diego, I think. He let it slip that he took the train up here once from downtown.”
“Have you looked for him?”
“No, I’ve never had an idea of where to go.”
I reach for her hair pick, “Let me.”
She frowns at first, then hands it over.
I scoot around so I can reach, then start gliding the pick slowly through the ringlets. I’ve never done this before, but it seems easy enough.
She leans back toward me. “That feels really good.”
“Continue with your story.”
“I don’t know who he’s hanging out with. He won’t tell me. But I know he’s mentioned a woman that he slept with. Really. I have no idea.”
I work my way to the other side of her head. She closes her eyes and relaxes into the sensation. “What’s he using?”
“Cam was addicted to pills before. I guess that’s what’s happening again. But he went to rehab last year.”
“How long has he been like this?”
She sighs, “Five years.”
I very gently comb through her hair. “And what about your parents?”
“They weren’t here for us. They burned out, moved away when I was seventeen. I last heard from them about three years ago. They were in bad shape, raging alcoholics. I got a call from the coroner one day, my father had died. My mother hasn’t been heard from since.” Her face shifts, changes, hardens.
“I’m so sorry.”
She shrugs, and seems so small.
“You’ve been taking care of the house and of your brother for a long time.”
