by Alyssa Kress
CHAPTER TWELVE
Brennan was not planning to make her dinner. Erica knew that perfectly well. She knew what it meant when a man looked at you with that quantity of hot intensity in his eyes. True, she'd never had anyone look at her with quite so much hot intensity, but that only made the message that much clearer.
Her heart beat like she'd just finished a ten-mile run. Like a run, the sensation made her feel good, healthy strong—basically all right with the world. She'd been feeling bad about herself before Brennan had jumped into her basketball routine. Liam had called to say he was staying overnight at Nelson's house. It was clear he'd wanted to avoid being with his sister. The phone call had made her earlier sense of parental inadequacy return and swell.
"Let's go inside," Brennan now said. His voice was very deep, excitingly rough. He drew back enough that he could take her hand. His grip was firm and possessive.
Erica had only once gotten intoxicated. She felt a similarly lightheaded disorientation now as she let Brennan guide her toward his house.
With his free hand, Brennan dug frantically in his trouser pocket until he pulled out a set of keys.
"Your jacket," Erica said, spying the tan blazer lying on the grass beside his SUV.
"Leave it there," Brennan grumbled, moving toward his side door.
"Hang on." Erica pulled on his hand, disproportionately pleased that he let her lead him close enough for her to snag the jacket. The garment was heavy and satin-lined and smelled like him when she put it up to her face.
"Erica." His tone warned her to stop dallying.
Erica smiled, liking the fact she was obviously more in control than he was. This was comforting as she was feeling pretty out of control.
She was about to go into Brennan's house and have sex with him. Two weeks ago she'd thought she was never going to speak to him again.
Finally, Brennan unlocked the side door and drew Erica inside. He took his jacket from her and threw it on the center island of the kitchen. Then, with his eyes intent on her, he pulled her into his arms.
She closed her eyes, lifted her face, and her mouth met his.
It felt like going up the top hill of a rollercoaster. A buildup of anticipation. She clutched him close, and his arms enclosed her. The kiss went on.
God, this felt good. So very, very good. She felt wanted and desired. Perhaps it was an illusion, but she felt accepted.
"You taste so good." Brennan smoothed his lips from her mouth down her jaw. His hands rubbed her back.
Completely lost in how wonderful it felt to be held close against him, Erica merely hummed in reply.
With a low sound, Brennan slid one hand beneath her breast to cup it from below.
As she was wearing a thick sports bra, Erica only received a vague impression of pressure. But the increased intimacy went through her like a storm anyway. She moaned. Then, kissing his jaw, she murmured, "I don't think we're ready for dinner."
"No?" He worked up the hem of her shirt.
The excitement inside her wriggled up along with her hem. "After that game, we probably ought to shower first."
His palm was against her skin right under her bra. "You think we're going to make it that far?"
"Sure. In fact, I'll bet you." Erica was surprised to note she was having fun. She was pretty sure she'd never had fun while engaging in sex. But then, she'd never felt as sure of a man's interest as she did right now.
Brennan shook with silent laughter. "A bet about what?"
"How far—" She didn't get a chance to finish her sentence because Brennan had covered her lips again with his own.
The rollercoaster had gone over the top and was on its downhill slide now. Erica felt a similar drop in her stomach as his kiss took her over.
Then his fingers found the front zipper of her bra. She drew in a sharp breath as he undid the two sides and slid his hands over her breasts. His palms rubbed against the stiffened tips of her nipples.
"Brennan..."
"At this rate, we won't get out of the kitchen," Brennan muttered.
"No." She woke up a little. "I don't want to do this in the kitchen." The locale was not a place that gave her confidence.
"All right, then. Come on." Pulling away, Brennan grabbed her hand and tugged her out of the open-plan kitchen.
They sped through the airy living room and up the fancy wood staircase. Erica had the naughty sense of trespassing. This wasn't her house, Brennan wasn't really her man, yet she was here about to do this anyway.
Brennan led her into a bedroom, presumably his. There was more paneled woodwork, deep red upholstery—the dim impression Erica received was that this room successfully maintained the classiness she'd already noticed downstairs. She might have started to feel inferior again if Brennan hadn't pulled her into his arms for another deep, drugging kiss.
Briefly, she recalled the reason she'd originally not wanted to get involved with this man. She hadn't thought she could trust a person who'd shared the same problem as her father.
But she knew she wasn't afraid of Brennan. Maybe she should have been, but she wasn't. All she could feel was heat and a powerful desire to get closer.
Brennan apparently felt something similar. He broke off the kiss to drag her shirt over her head. Then he pushed off her bra.
Erica arched back her head as Brennan lowered his face to lick the space between her breasts.
"Salty," he hummed.
God, he was turned on by her sweat. Erica's hands tangled in his hair. She revelled in the sensation of his desire for her. She revelled in her own surrender.
With his hands on her rear end, he pulled their hips close. The feel of his erection against her lower belly made her own desire swell.
"Yes," she whispered. "Oh, yes."
He shifted his hands to the waistband of her shorts and pulled them down, together with her panties. His palms smoothed back up her legs to cup the naked skin of her rear end. "Beautiful," he murmured.
But she wanted to feel him, too, Erica realized. She fumbled with the buttons on his shirt and finally got it open enough to slide her hands against his chest. His muscles were hard and well-defined, his skin covered by rough curls. He was so wonderfully male.
"I love the way your skin feels against mine," Brennan said in a low voice. His hands confirmed his words, roaming all over her. His lips nuzzled her cheek.
"Mm." She had no words to describe how wonderful his touch felt, the intimacy it created.
Brennan's roaming hands swept to her breasts, cupping and massaging them. "I've wanted to do this since I first met you."
Erica couldn't help laughing. He'd wanted to touch her small breasts?
"Why does that make you laugh?"
"Because— Oh, just kiss me." It amazed Erica that she had the confidence to ask that. It amazed her even more when he complied. She loved the way he kissed, the mastery of his mouth, the hunger in him that she could feel.
That hunger was also evident in the speed his hands worked at the waistband of his trousers. As he pushed his pants down, he leaned them both over the bed. They ended up lying atop the red patterned counterpane, Brennan splayed over Erica.
She looked up at him with heavy lids. It felt good to be surrounded by his bulk and his strength. She felt protected and possessed.
He looked down at her, the intensity in his eyes nearly scorching.
"Go on," she invited.
His lashes lowered. Then his hands moved. They smoothed all over her as if trying to learn her curves: over hips, waist, thighs.
Erica breathed her appreciation and arched her back. "More," she breathed.
He gave more. Those roving hands drifted in toward her center. His fingers dipped here and there, clever, manipulating, spiking her pleasure. Slowly, his head lowered until he was nuzzling her neck.
Erica moaned her pleasure. He genuinely seemed to care about how she was feeling, that he was giving her pleasure. The mere idea that he cared spread a deep warmth inside her.
&nb
sp; "More," she urged. "Closer."
He hesitated.
Did he not understand what she meant? Or was he, at this late point in the game, having second thoughts?
Dismayed by the idea, Erica resolved to conquer any last-minute regrets. She lowered a hand to wrap it firmly around his erection.
His reaction, a full-body jerk, assuaged any doubts she'd developed. Enjoying her power, she stroked him fully down his length, which was considerable.
"This," she said huskily. "Now."
He garbled something she couldn't understand and then reached past her. He opened the top drawer of the nightstand. From inside it, he snatched a condom.
She did not feel the least bit surprised by his action even though Brennan had to be the first man, ever, who'd taken the initiative to protect her without her first demanding it. But that's who he was: solid and trustworthy. She could feel safe with him.
As Erica lay there, still beneath his strength, she had an overwhelming, if peculiar, sensation. It was another first, a sensation of belonging. In that moment, she felt as if she was where she belonged. With him. Uniting their bodies.
Meanwhile, he ripped open the package and rolled the condom on. Then his eyes came back to lock on hers.
Erica's sense of being in the right place expanded ten-fold. He was concentrated on her, not just the sex. She was sure of it.
She reached up her arms.
Brennan came down over her with apparent gratitude. He kissed her deeply, and then his fingers, down below, teased and parted her for his entry.
"Yes," Erica murmured. This at last. Union.
He kissed the tip of her ear before starting to push inside her. The gesture was so unexpectedly sweet that it startled her.
"You okay?" He paused.
"Yes, yes. Please keep going."
He let out a breath and flexed his hips, pushing in another bit. His hands were on her rear, helping to guide their bodies together.
The further he penetrated, the more together they seemed to become. She felt more whole than she'd ever felt in her life. The sensation was so strong that tears formed in the corner of her eyes.
"You...feel...amazing," Brennan breathed. With a muscular movement, he pushed in to the hilt.
"Oh," Erica said, her voice unnaturally high.
"You okay?" he asked again.
"Oh," she said again, in the same voice. She was so beyond okay. This—this utter connection. It was amazing. Euphoric.
Brennan appeared to conclude all was not well for he began to withdraw.
"No!" Erica said quickly and held onto his rear. "I'm—I'm all right. Incredible. Great."
He released a long breath. "Thank God." He flexed. "I have to move."
"Yes. Please. Move."
He moved. Long, elegant, powerful thrusts. His strokes hit Erica in a surprisingly sensitive spot inside.
"Oh," she said. "Oh, Brennan." Pleasure streaked through her with each movement of his body. She'd thought she was euphoric before. Now she felt quite outside the world of everyday experience.
But he kept pushing her further, higher. Until at last she was so high she saw stars.
"Oh, God," she whispered, overwhelmed by the climax.
"Erica." It was a half-shout as his whole body jerked. "Erica," he said again, much softer, and lowered over her.
She held him as close as he was holding her, his body still buried deeply inside her. She was certain they'd, at least for a moment, become one. For as long as she could, she held onto this infinitely precious feeling, the feeling of belonging.
She wished she could hold onto it forever.
