Brute had greeted her with a kiss, and the way she'd melted into him revealed she had missed their time together as much as he had. He'd pushed the door shut with his foot, twisted with her in his arms, and pressed her against the hard surface of the door, all while she gave him everything. Tongue, teeth, sexy groans into his mouth, hands restlessly roaming across his arms and shoulders, arms twining around his neck—every action exposing her need and desire. "Sweetheart," he’d barely got out before abandoning words for sensations. Drowning in her, he’d drunk in each movement and sound, relished the feel of her crushed between his chest and the door, how the scent of her inundated his senses, making him wild to have her…finally.
He’d lifted her, stalking through her house and up the stairs to the room that had so often starred in his dreams. No argument from her, the fluttering drag of her fingertips working to pull his shirt from the confinement of his waistband encouraging him without words. Words they didn’t have breath for in any case, mouths fused tightly together.
Impatient, in a choreography driven by desire, he’d twisted and taken them onto the bed, the mattress jolting and bouncing beneath him as he’d fallen. Then he’d rolled to her, fingers finding their way to the heat at her core, tearing at the fastening of her jeans to shove his hand down inside, diving into her panties to discover slick evidence of her desire waiting. He had wasted no time in giving her what she’d required.
Now, knowing the urgency had been bled from her need, he could take his time. Curling the fingers of his other hand, he used the backs of his knuckles to stroke across the unbelievably soft skin of her cheek. The pad of his thumb trailing a different path across her neck made her arch and lift her chin, offering him access. Lips questing across hers, he sought and found the vibrating hum that told him she liked what she was feeling, too.
Long, heat-filled moments later, he pulled back, rolling his sensitive forehead across hers, each indrawn breath as ragged as when he'd run five klicks in basic with a full pack. "Hey," he whispered, not wanting to break their connection. "I missed you."
"Missed you, too," she returned in a tone just as soft. "A whole lot, Brute." Curling sideways, she kept her gaze on him, gauging his response and he'd know why with her next words. "I don't like spending that many days without you." A wash of protective warmth flooded through him, because with those words, she’d handed him trust, making herself vulnerable and knowing he would be there to catch her fall.
“How can we keep this deficit from happening again? Keep you topped up with alla me, sweetheart.” Nuzzling her cheek, he laid a complicated pattern of tiny kisses on her skin, knowing she wouldn’t recognize the word drawn by his lips. Mine. “Keep you from being without your Brute?” He cupped her sex, lazy fingers tracing the outlines of her, a rekindling arousal announced in the slow lift of her hips, bow in her spine, and the soft exhale from her lips. “Keep me from bein’ without my Bex?”
A slow tensing of her muscles declared the importance of whatever she was about to say, so he stilled, trying to control his reactions. Husky with anticipation, her voice rippled across his senses, her whisper loud as a shout. “You could move in with me.” Stunned, he kept himself locked down, never letting that stutter of his heart reach his fingertips, sliding and slipping through her folds, every touch teasing, and light. She’d proffered a change in their relationship, a huge step forwards, and one he wasn’t expecting. He’d thought she might ask for dates, nights in to spend together, dinners with family, time to explore more how they fit alongside the other. Her offering up her sanctuary and requesting he relocate hadn’t even been on the horizon for him.
Her hand lifted, curling around his wrist and she turned her head, cheek pressing into his palm, seeking comfort. Or using that connection to safeguard herself, preparing for rejection.
We haven’t even fucked yet, raced through his head, that thought followed with a certainty buoying his soul that it didn’t matter. Had never mattered, not since the first kiss. She was his. And I’m hers. “My lease isn’t up for a couple of months.” Her breath gusted across his fingertips, an unspoken, deep sigh of relief. Wanting to give her more, he fed her his first thoughts, a stream of consciousness that would reassure. “If Natty’s stayin’ in town, and from the school brochures layin’ every-fuckin-where, it looks like she’s stayin’ around, I could talk to her dad, see if he’d be willing to take over the lease, give Nat time to look for a different place if she wanted.”
A pause, then he put himself out there, knowing in his bones she wouldn’t leave him hanging. “I could load up my truck tomorrow.” His apartment was furnished. There was only one room of furniture that he’d need to worry about. He’d be leaving all the shared things for Natty, but doubted that’d be a hardship here. Brute hadn’t fully explored Bex’s house, so he hoped there’d be a space for his desk and equipment. “Only thing I need is a place to set up my office and phone system.” She knew what he did for a living, they’d talked about the differences in their jobs. “I don’t have to transfer services, just need a place to plug in.”
“What time do you want to start in the morning?” No hesitation, that was his Bexley. She was all-in on the idea, wanting to lock him into the decision before he could back out. Never knowing that he didn’t see himself ever pulling away from this thing with her. Not now he’d come to know his dream woman existed, was here, in his arms. No way in hell will I be walking away from her.
Leaning down, he nuzzled her cheek, hand slipping to the back of her head, fingers pushing into her hair. He tightened his grip, tilting her head, arching her neck so he could slide his jaw alongside hers. Mouth to her ear, he lapped at her lobe, tugging gently with his teeth. Playing, teasing, loving the sound of her open-mouthed gasps. “Not early,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the soft skin behind her ear. Lips to her neck, he sucked and nibbled, placing hard, trailing kisses over every inch of skin he could reach. “I got other things I wanna do early.” Fingers of his hand slipping through the wetness she offered, he firmly sketched small circles around her opening. “Things I wanna do late.” Angling his wrist, he slowly plunged his middle finger inside her, hearing her sighing moan in reaction. “Things I wanna do now.” Gentle, short thrusts had her breathing shallowly, the material of his shirt tightening across his shoulders as her hands fisted in the fabric.
“I wanna be here.” The word “here” was accompanied by a deeper push, his thumb tweaking and rolling her clit. “Wanna be inside you.” Another roll and a plunge gave him the feel of her body arching up against his hand. “Wanna love you here.” Withdrawing his finger, he quickly matched it to his ring finger and thrust deep. “Now.” Another push and a roll. “Late.” Her teeth latched onto the side of his neck, her cry muffled against his skin. “Early.” Tight and pulsing around his fingers, he felt her climax building. “Want that?” Her hair moved against the side of his face, evidence of her eager agreement. “Want me?”
“God, Brute,” she whispered, his name gaining syllables with the sound of her passion. “Please.”
“Please what, baby?” Steady and patient, he fucked her with his fingers, waiting. Hips rising and falling with every motion, she showed him what she wanted, but he longed for the words. “Please what, baby?”
“You.” Gasping the word as he doubled the speed of his thrusts, his activities hampered by the confining fabric of her jeans. “Want you, please.”
Carefully removing his fingers then his hand from her clothing, he efficiently stripped them both bare. Then he spent the next minutes reacquainting himself with her curves, the dip of her waist, peaks on the soft mounds of her breasts. Where before he had been restricted by his own moral code to gentlemanly behavior, this time—God—this time, he had free rein to explore. Map out the things that turned her on. Map out his favorite places, plotting repeat visits even as he traced them with tongue and teeth for the first time.
Condom in place, he gently pulled her hand away from his cock. As he had explored her, she h
ad been granted the same opportunity and hadn’t wasted any time in familiarizing herself with his body. Fingers traced his muscles, and she’d rolled one nipple between finger and thumb, a sexy smile curving her lips when he groaned at the sensation. “Done playing, Bexley.” Brute moved between her thighs, letting her hips cradle him, hard cock sliding up and over her clit. “You want me, sweetheart?”
“Yes.” Spoken like a plea, he watched the tip of her tongue dart out to wet her lips and leaned down to capture her in a hard kiss that demanded every response from her. He sucked her tongue into his mouth, toyed with it for a moment, then thrust his between her lips, taking everything he needed, knowing each moan and gasp were her gifts to him. “Brute—”
Whatever else she’d been about to say was cut off when he shifted, shoving one elbow into the mattress as he reached down between them. Thumb to her clit, he rolled across it once, twice, stroking the engorged nubbin of nerves, the head of his dick thudding in a sympathetic response. Gripping his cock, he dragged the crown down and across her pussy, wetting the condom and then curved his back, hips pushing forwards as he thrust inside her for the first time. Slow and steady, he pushed deep, and without pause deeper yet, listening to her breathing, alert for any signs of discomfort. To the root, he locked into position there, keeping his cock buried inside her. The fluttering clenches surrounded him, her voice on the air around him, soft lips of her mouth to his ear as she called his name again, “Brute.”
“More beautiful than I imagined,” he whispered. At his confession, her arms curved around his shoulders, legs around his hips and she held him tightly. Holding on, not pushing away. Not trying to escape. Wanting this just as much as he did. “Every dream fell short of this.” He felt the first cracks in his façade break through, tearing apart the mask he’d been presenting to the world for years. This moment with her was something he had believed was never to be. Something he had never experienced, and never would, missing without understanding how profound the absence. All his chances torn away by war, the reality of his injuries had destroyed any fairy-tale ending.
But here she was. Unmistakable proof that anything was possible.
“So goddamned beautiful.”
Anything. Even this loving surrender of a woman who wanted him proved there was life after death. That’s where he’d been for so long, just a walking shell of himself, might as well have died on that sand. Proof in his arms, because his Bexley, who didn’t care what he looked like, how his voice sounded, a woman who looked straight through the roughness of his scars wanted what they were building as much as he did. As beautiful inside as out, she ignored the horrors resting on the surface to brush past the thick veil that had kept much of the world at bay.
His camouflage had done so much more than merely concealing him. Without his knowledge, it had hidden this from him. All of this—a chance at living again, and the possibility of beauty like this in his arms. In his life. Masquerade interrupted, what had become a shroud was torn away by her actions months ago. Delicate chin lifted in the aisle of a common grocery store, and him not understanding that the soft caress of her mouth offered so much more than a kiss. This was more than his chance to keep her, it was a door opening, an opportunity to stay in the world in a way that would keep his soul alive. “My Bexley is so goddamned beautiful.”
Bexley
Brute covered her, his forearms pressed deep into the mattress supporting much of his weight. His lips grazed the skin of her neck, soft kisses tracing the route he took to her mouth. Heat from his body enveloped her, branding her arms where they crossed his back. He filled her, the press of him inside so sweetly perfect she could have wept. Everything I want, right here. Over the past weeks, his lazy explorations of her mouth always left her wanting more, and now to have him, finally have him, was brilliant. With every inch of him buried inside her, he was the first man she’d wanted since that long-ago night. First man in years, and she never wanted him to leave.
Terrified when her mouth ran away from her common sense earlier, the question she’d asked had coated her in a fragile vulnerability so frightening it stole her breath. She’d been ready for any reaction except the one received. With that promise to bolster her courage, holding his words tight to her heart, she put her lips to his ear and urged, “Love me.”
He groaned, his forehead coming to rest on her collarbone, sweat making their skin slick where they touched. With her palms flattened against the muscles of his back, she felt a stirring underneath his skin, then his hips arched back the smallest amount before plunging back down. That was when she felt him tremble. Belly to belly, she lay underneath him, and he was quaking, his whole body shaking, a reaction to their closeness that was nearly terrifying because she didn’t know what to make of it.
Afraid he was in pain, she pushed the back of her head into the pillow so she could crane her neck around to see his face. His beautiful eyes were closed, scarred lids clamped tightly together, and as she watched a tear broke free, trailing along his nose, the droplet falling in a hot, wet splash onto her shoulder. “Brute.” Her voice shook nearly as hard as his muscles did, not knowing what was happening. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Suspended in time, she waited, and he gave her more. “For the first time I can remember, nothing is wrong.” Muscles in his thighs tightened, and she gripped with her legs, giving him room to rock out, and push back in. “Everything is right.” The drag of his cock sparked something inside her as he pulled back again, farther this time, reaching the apex of the arc and leisurely gliding back in deep, nurturing that fledgling flicker. “You’re right.”
“Baby,” she whispered, envisioning the spark flashing hot, catching fire, building, and found herself enveloped by a heat rushing through her chest so her throat closed around the words she wanted to say. His mouth touched her neck, lips slipping up the column to her jaw. “Honey, that’s—” She lost track of the thought when he stroked out, and back in, managing somehow to hit every last nerve ending she possessed, stoking the fire higher.
Deeper. He moved over her, his body working to bring them along this road. Hips in and out, his back curving and hollowing in turns, face pressed to the pillow beside her head. The sweat-slick slide of his belly against hers felt like satin, while the grind of his chest against hers was like nothing she’d experienced.
“We’re right.” His grunts carried the weight of his belief with them, his hands moving, one arm shoved underneath her back, the other threading down so his palm cupped her ass. “I need you, Bexley.” He nudged the side of her head with his jaw. She turned to meet his mouth with her own, opening for the onslaught of his tongue, tasting him, the dark flavor of his arousal painting her mouth with frenzied desperation. “Need you so much, sweetheart.” Fingers tight on her ass cheek, he pulled her hips up to meet every downward thrust. “Can’t lose you.”
“Not going to,” she whispered but wasn’t sure if he’d heard. “I’m not going anywhere, Brute.”
Mouth to hers again, the sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, and the flame that had been rolling through her body became a bonfire, lifting her high. She tried to break the kiss because it was too much. Everything was too much. She was coming apart at the seams, and it was too—
Deep. So deep it seemed he was trying to bury himself inside her and she needed that connection as much as he did, her back twisting uncontrollably as he moved, shifted, and planted his mouth to the base of her neck, grunting as he plunged hard. Once, twice. Farther than she would have believed possible, and he convulsed in her arms, his entire body giving witness to the strength of the feelings moving through him. A final time, hard against her, deep inside her, and he groaned. In that cry, she heard her name, and her arms and legs tightened around him, holding him close. Not going anywhere.
Brute
He woke to a dream come true. Not fading away at the stroke of midnight, still in his arms, her even breaths music he had listened to through the night. Beautifu
l in repose, as he already knew, but this time his perusal of her sanctioned by her own words. “Stay,” she’d told him, wrapping her arm around his chest, holding on as if daring him to try and dislodge her. Knee on his thighs, ankle tangled between his legs, she draped herself like a cover he would use every night if she agreed. And she had. He remembered every word of her question and his answer. Today would be busy. Calls and testing the waters with Natty, but he was certain she’d jump at the chance to regain independence. Then would come boxing things, and a single trip in the truck would carry all he needed here.
Our house. The tiny cottage he had watched and envied for so long because it held her inside. Neighbors to meet in time. Each moment bringing them forwards. Rolling his neck, he brought his lips to her temple, pressing a kiss there along with a whisper, “I love you, Bexley.” She sighed and nuzzled into his shoulder, her hair drifting across his skin.
I should get up and make those calls, he thought. Pushing at the covers, he threaded his way underneath with the arm wrapped around her. Palming her ass cheek, he caressed her gently for a moment. Later, he decided, dipping his fingers down along the crease by her thigh and down the back of her leg. Fingers behind her knee, he tugged and slipped it up his body. Fingers sliding back to her core, he traced along her folds.
Tiny movements and a soft moan signaled her rise from sleep. A rise matched with one of his own, the tent in the covers evidence that he would be ready when she was. Her head tipped, and he felt her mouth on his chest, teeth scraping across his nipple. “You awake, baby?” Her two-tone inflection familiar and sweet, told him she wasn’t willing to disengage in any way. Hand to the side of her head, he swept her hair back, seeing her eyes roll up to look at him. “Bring me that mouth, sweetheart.” Open lips, her tongue twirled across the flat disk before she pressed a kiss.
A Kiss to Keep You (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 14) Page 10
