by BJ Harvey
“Sorry,” I mumble, not wanting her to pry into why everything turned to crap after Bruno arrived.
She grabs my arm and gives me a squeeze. “It’s okay. If Millen doesn’t call me back, you’ll be the one giving me a talking to.”
I shoot her a smile. “He will. There’s no doubt in my mind that the man is gone for you.”
“We only spent two days together.”
“And he was acting like it was two years, so you’re safe.”
“You want me to get Bruno to walk you to your car?”
“No,” I answer a little too quickly, earning a quirked brow. “I mean . . . Mark’s leaving now. I’ll just get him to walk with me.”
She studies me for a moment before nodding and giving me a quick hug. “See you tomorrow. Ten a.m. run?”
“Sounds good, babe.” I grab my purse from the drawer beneath the bar and hook it over my shoulder, slowly making my way towards the front door where a stoic Bruno stands, talking to Mark.
Bruno lifts his chin again, apparently planning to end the night in the same way he’s acted since our little exchange at the bar—by not speaking a word to me.
Thankfully, Mark steps forward and comes to my rescue, stopping me from saying—or doing—anything that I’ll likely regret.
“Your escort awaits,” he says, holding his arm out to me and opening the door.
As I drive out of the parking lot a few minutes later, it hits me why non-fraternization policies are put in place, and leaves me suddenly wishing I had one in my contract.
Because for the first time in the five years I’ve been working at the bar, I really don’t want to go in for my shift tomorrow, and the reason is my ‘once and done,’ if I can even really call him that.
He was definitely a once, but I’m not so sure he’s done.
Chapter 5
A week later, and I’m running.
It’s hard, it’s tiring, it’s hot as Hades, and yet, I love it. The fresh air, the push to get the burn in my legs, and the invigorating feeling I get at the end of five miles—all of it makes me feel alive. Maintaining my bubble butt is just an added bonus.
Because I like having a roof over my head, food in my fridge, and the ability to indulge in my love of fine wine, I did indeed return to work the next day, and the four nights after that. I’ve put my brief encounters with Bruno behind me and it’s business as usual.
I’ve been running a lot though. A lot. It’s helped me realize that the whole situation—albeit short—was the universe reminding me my long-held aversion to potential long-term relationships was still my best idea yet. Five years, seven months, and twenty-one days of aversion that has not once led me astray.
I’m looking down at my fitness tracker when I’m startled by loud pounding steps beside me. My eyes dart up to see Bruno running next to me, seemingly appearing from thin air. It’s as if the mere thought of the guy conjured him up.
“Hi,” I pant, the heat of the sun no longer the only source of my warmth.
He meets my gaze and shoots me a slow-growing—definitely underwear-destroying—smile, all thoughts of that dodged bullet sinking like a lead balloon. He doesn’t say a word and doesn’t miss a step as he returns his attention to the horizon in front of him. I’m left struggling to coordinate one foot following the other and not falling flat on my face.
I can’t tear my eyes away. A black tank clings to his chest, and the olive skin of his shoulders shines, covered by a sheen of sweat that shouldn’t look sexy but damn, if it doesn’t hit me in all the right places. Even a few feet away from him, I’m fighting the urge to jump the man just to lick along his square jaw. Moving my gaze down his body, I spy his running shorts, a flashing beacon to firm muscular thighs with quads that any woman would be powerless against. I’m struck with visions of those legs pinning me down, his hips driving me into the mattress.
It’s not the sun causing me to combust right now. It’s Bruno and everything that he is. Even his calves are hot. What man has sexy calves? But his are so defined, exuding power like every other part of his body.
“You right there?” he asks, his deep voice full of amusement, obviously not missing a single moment of my perverted examination.
My head jerks up to meet his dark brown eyes. I stumble; I can’t stop myself. In a heartbeat, his arm wraps around my waist and I’m pulled to the side of the trail. My body sticks to him shoulder to hip, and my breath catches, that gasp the only sound between us. Time stands still as I tilt my head and stare at him.
My breathing is heavy and labored as he leans toward me. As if led by instinct, I lift on my toes and brush my mouth against his, the contact alone sending more warmth through my system than the hottest California day ever could.
What have I just done? My entire body tenses against his. His stormy eyes lock with mine, hooded, heated, and full of unspoken need that makes me want to climb him like the tree I now find myself pressed up against.
His grip around my waist tightens, his thigh shifting to press between my legs. Bending his neck to bring his mouth just an inch away from mine, he stops as if seeing right inside me where no one else gets to go—where I don’t let many go. Not anymore.
“I’m going to kiss you, Gabs, and I need to know you get me when I say it’s going to mean something this time. It’s not gonna just be the touching of lips or just a physical act. It’s gonna be more than either of us have ever had before. So if you’re not ready for what kissing me again will mean, you’ve gotta say something now because in a few seconds, I’ll make the decision for both of us. Then I’ll probably make a few more decisions both of us will like a hell of a lot.”
His words spur something in me I have been trying to ignore for the past week. I need him. It’s not a choice anymore. I close the distance between us and slam my lips to his. I kiss him like I mean it. Really kissing him, pouring all of my pent-up frustrations and annoyance and need into it. His tongue seeks out mine, and his hands squeeze my waist, anchoring me in place as he plunders my mouth and I plunder his right back.
When we part, our chests are heaving more than any run could cause.
“Now what?” I ask breathlessly, quirking a brow.
His eyes drop to my mouth before slowly returning to look at me. “Now the only thing we need to decide is my place or yours.” He rolls his hips against me and I close my eyes at the sensation, slowly opening them again when he continues, “Because after that kiss, that decision you made for the both of us, there’s no way I’m letting you run away.”
Biting my lip, I tilt my head and grin. “You saying you’re going to chase me?”
He crushes his mouth against mine again in a hard, bruising kiss that I know I’ll feel tomorrow. Then, with his forehead resting on mine, his breath fanning across my skin, he proceeds to rock me to my heavily protected soul. “Every damn time.”
***
Fifteen minutes later I’m leading Bruno through my front door and down the hallway to my bedroom. He gently tugs my arm, spinning me around and pulling me into him. His hand runs up my back and into my hair, tilting my head up so my eyes meet his and his gaze roams my face.
“Fuck you’re beautiful.” His rough tone is the complete opposite to his soft and unbelievably hot expression.
“You do know I’m a sure thing, right?” I hope my humor masks how affected I am by his compliment. It’s not because I don’t like it. It’s because I do, and I’m struggling to compartmentalize the feelings he’s evoking.
His brow furrows. “I’m not giving you a line, Gaby. The time for that is passed. What this is between us is beyond any false platitudes I could give. I don’t need to.”
I open my mouth but before I can say a word, he silences me with his own. “I’d rather show you.”
Well, hell! I’m not gonna say no to that.
His eyes are scorching. My grip on his biceps tightens as my knees threaten to buckle. I stamp down the nagging voice in my head
saying this is not a normal physical reaction to a man. There must be more to this for him to have such an effect on me. I don’t want to hear those words, even if they’re my own subconscious warning me to tread carefully. She needn’t worry. There’s no way this will be anything more than a one-time deal. I don’t need the mind-fuck I’ve had this last week to continue past the next hour.
Still standing there and not moving, I shift my head to the side and quirk a brow. “So, this show and tell. Is it a quid pro quo thing or—”
I don’t get any more words out because his hands drop to my ass, thrusting my hips against his at the same time as his lips crush down onto mine. His tongue enters my mouth with desperate urgency, no doubt to shut me up but also to make me feel everything he’s been telling me. That’s the only logical explanation because every movement of his body against mine, every stroke of his tongue, nip of his teeth, and shift of his head serves to drive me higher and higher. I jerk back, desperately drawing in much-needed air. My chest heaves, my entire body an inferno that desperately needs release. Something, anything . . . everything.
“Shower,” I pant, my heart racing a mile a minute. We stand there unmoving, the time stretching between us serving to wind me up tighter instead of giving me space to calm myself down. I’m like a tightly wound spring needing release whereas Bruno looks calm except for his eyes which are anything but. He grins and I swear the bottom half of my body convulses. Just from a smile.
Stepping back, he sweeps his arm out. In measured steps—so as not to melt into a puddle in front of him—I lead him into my bathroom. I’ve barely turned the shower on when I’m spun around and pressed against the glass wall. He dips his head as if to kiss me, but tilts to the side at the last minute and runs his nose against mine until his lips are on my neck, his mouth dragging my skin. Again, we’re chest to hip, and again, I feel every hard, delicious angle. But it’s not enough.
I remember what it’s like to be kissed by him.
I remember what it’s like to feel his hungry, ravenous mouth between my legs and then his words, his voice, everything . . .
Suddenly, I don’t want to wait anymore.
And being the modern, confident, go-after-what-she-wants woman I am, I don’t.
As the room fills with steam, I decide to create some heat—or more heat—of my own. Grabbing his face between my hands, I jerk it up, push mine forward, and slam my lips against his.
I dive my tongue into his mouth, seeking his and moaning at the addictive taste that I could—but won’t let myself—get used to. He doesn’t fight me. Instead, he hooks his arms beneath my ass and hoists me up. I kick my shoes off as he does the same, and cross my ankles behind his hips as he carries me into my shower, not caring that we’re both still in our running gear. My sole focus is on him and getting wet, getting clean, then letting Bruno dirty me up again.
If I’m only letting myself have him this once, I’m gonna make the most of it.
I arch my back and rest my shoulders on the tiled wall below the showerhead. I watch the water beat down over Bruno’s face and chest. Wars would be fought for the chance to see a sight like that.
Then all I can think about is getting naked and feeling his mouth on mine again and all the other parts that’ll feel just as good if not better than that.
My hands go to the hem of my tank and crop top, nearly ripping them off as I pull the clothes over my head and drop them to the floor. Bruno lowers his head, one of his big hands cupping my breast. His lips wrap around my nipple and take a long pull, a jolt of pleasure shooting straight between my legs as I tighten my grip and roll my hips against his pulsing cock.
“Damn,” I moan, hooking my arms over his shoulders and giving in to the sensation of Bruno worshiping my body. But still, I want more.
I drop to my feet and push him back to give myself some room. Dipping my fingers under his shirt, I drag the wet fabric up and over his head, my mouth following the trail to his shoulders, tasting a mix of him and water, wanting to savor the moment but craving another taste even more.
He makes quick work of his shorts and kicks them to the side just as I drop to my knees and take in everything that is him. I anchor myself with a hand on his hip and dip my head, running my tongue down his length and back up again before taking him deep in my mouth.
His low groan bounces off the bathroom walls as I continue to lick and suck and take my fill of him, expelling all of my built-up tension. He places his hand on my hair, not guiding me, but simply resting there, his fingers flexing against my scalp when I wrap my fist around the base and start to stroke up and down in time with my lips.
Minutes later, he’s dragging me off his cock and pulling me back into his arms, his tongue invading my mouth with a ferocity that I feel straight down to my core.
I roll my hips and this time it’s my turn to moan, his cock gliding against my clit with every front-and-back grind. He reaches out mid-kiss and turns the water off, and we’re moving, stripping the rest of my clothes off. Bruno’s arms tighten around me and he carries me out of the shower. With no mind to the fact we’re both dripping wet—some more than others—he walks us into my bedroom.
He falls onto his back on my bed, taking me with him but not missing another second to claim my mouth again. Our hands roam everywhere.
I rip my mouth from his and meet his hooded gaze, my entire body threatening to spontaneously combust if I don’t get release soon. “Condom,” I say, leaning over him and stretching out to my nightstand drawer.
Finding what I want, I try to pull back but his hands on my hips hold me in place. He wraps his lips around my clit, flicking his tongue at rapid speed over the swollen bundle. My forehead drops to the mattress, my fingers white-knuckling the sheets as he continues his relentless assault. I clench my thighs together, wanting more—needing more—rolling onto my back beside him and shoving the foil packet into his palm.
Seconds later, he’s standing beside the bed, his body towering over mine as I move towards him, not wanting to waste any more time. As soon as he’s sheathed himself, he leans over me, bracing an arm on the bed beside my shoulders. Dropping his head, he touches his nose to mine, brushing his lips ever so softly against my mouth as he positions himself between my legs. He slowly deepens our kiss and he pushes inside of me, my back arching as he fills me to the hilt. My entire body is electrified with the sensation of him on me, in me, and our combined taste on his tongue.
“Oh god,” I whine, my legs taking on a mind of their own as they hook behind his thighs, my hips joining the party, grinding him as he mounts me. Over and over, harder and harder, our limbs tighten. His cock drives deeper inside me than any man before him has. He drags his mouth down my neck, his breaths coming hard and fast against my skin, the room now filled with grunts and groans—him—and whimpers and moans—me.
“You feel so good wrapped around me, Gabs.”
“Mmm.” My brain is at capacity, my synapses in desperate need of rewiring as they near certain short-circuit. I’m rarely lost for words but right now, all I can do is feel, and all I want to do is come.
“That first taste of you was never going to be enough. I had to have more and now I’ve got you, I don’t think it’ll ever be enough.”
Damn if his words don’t hit me somewhere I don’t want them to.
“So fucking wet,” he grunts, his breath ragged in my ear, his body driving me harder into the bed with every thrust. My legs clasp his thighs as my entire core clenches around him, and with barely any warning, I’m thrown off the cliff, screaming my climax louder than my neighbors will have ever heard before.
“Fuck, no man can fight against that. Against you,” he rasps, his lips crashing against mine. His tongue claims mine. He plants himself as deep as he can go and growls—yes, growls—his release into my mouth before burying his face in my neck.
We lie there motionless, my limbs heavy and spent, my heartbeat pounding in my ears and my thoughts scattered
everywhere, much like the wet clothes on my bathroom floor.
Turning my head to the side, I refuse to acknowledge just how good everything that has transpired in the past hour felt—and I don’t just mean physically.
How on earth did I go from running in the park to getting my workout in a far more pleasurable—and unexpected—way with Bruno?
When Bruno pulls out of me and goes to the bathroom to deal with the condom, I’m thankful that my brain function decides to kick back in and I have the wherewithal to move my head to the pillow and pull the sheet up around me before he returns.
I’m not sure what I expect him to do when he finds me like this. It definitely isn’t to crawl into bed behind me, wrap his arm around my waist, and fall straight to sleep, leaving me with one big-ass question to answer . . . now what?
***
After what seems like a ten-minute post-sex power nap, I ease my eyes open to be met by Bruno’s slow-rising bare chest beside me. His head is turned away from me but knowing he’s sleeping, and considering I’m only allowing myself this one time, I take the chance for an uninterrupted perusal. His bronze skin is flawless, his muscles taut and indicative of someone who takes care of his body. Shoulders—my personal favorite—that are broad and thick, their strength I’ve now experienced first-hand when he moved me exactly where he wanted me.
Unfortunately this lasts only thirty seconds because I’m interrupted by my phone vibrating on the nightstand, Kenzie’s name flashing on screen. “Hello?”
“Hey. What are you doing?”
“Breathing,” I whisper, a grin curving my lips when she answers with a sigh.
“Well, that’s a good thing considering I kind of like having you around.”
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and reach down for a top, finding a discarded tank from the night before that’s enough to cover my naked ass if the neighbors feel like indulging in a little voyeurism.
