by EMILIE ROSE
Screw his brains out. Lucy’s crazy suggestion floated through Hannah’s mind. She banished it.
Using the battery-operated drill he’d brought, she lined up the bit then squeezed the button. The screw slowly backed out, then suddenly the cabinet fell. She scrambled to catch it and lost her footing on the ladder. One moment she was falling, then Brandon swung her out of the way as the upper cabinet slammed onto the countertop and the ladder clattered to the floor with a resounding crash.
His arms banded around her, trapping her against his torso, then he slowly lowered her to the ground. Her breasts slid down his chest, creating an arousing friction that permeated every cell in her body. Déjà vu. Only face-to-face this time. And this time, she knew how he tasted, how his hands felt on her skin. She couldn’t forget though, dear God, she’d tried.
His gaze found hers. “Are you all right?”
The huskiness of his voice and the warmth of his breath sweeping across her mouth did crazy things to her equilibrium. She forced a nod. “The last screw didn’t hold. I wasn’t expecting the cabinet to fall.”
“It shouldn’t have. Bad attachment.” His lips barely moved.
She tested the ground beneath her toes. The movement increased the friction against his fly—his distended fly. He inhaled sharply and stepped back, but not before the burn in her belly ignited. He was turned on. By her. She hadn’t felt wanted like that in a long time. Except by him.
He did a quick survey, patting her down like he would a suspect. Each brief press of his hands on her legs sent shockwaves through her. He knelt with his hand branding the base of her calf. “You have a scrape here.” A fingertip grazed the skin across the front of her ankle. “Did you twist your knee or ankle?”
“No. I’m...okay,” she croaked out and glanced down to see the red mark. Funny, she hadn’t even felt it. She’d been too aware of Brandon.
He rose. His pupils nearly eclipsed his irises. His lips parted, and his chest expanded. Her attention returned to his mouth. The temptation to close the scant inches separating them swelled within her until she couldn’t draw a breath.
Therapy. It would be good for both of you. She shushed Lucy’s voice once again.
He cupped her shoulders, his grip sure and warm. Her eyes fluttered closed. She didn’t dare meet his gaze lest he see how badly she needed to be held. Kissed. Touched. Desire raged inside her—desire she couldn’t deny or suppress. Desire for Brandon.
“Hannah.” Low and insistent, his voice rumbled through her, then a knuckle lifted her chin. “Look at me.”
She forced heavy lids to rise. The hunger in his eyes multiplied hers. She sucked in much-needed oxygen. He took the drill and set it on the counter, then his palm settled on her waist. Holding and yet not holding. The unspoken message was clear. She could step away if she wanted to. Did she want to?
No, she didn’t. Couldn’t. The whole night of dancing around each other in her tiny kitchen, of bumping and dodging, had been leading to this. She’d only been fooling herself when she’d tried to tell herself otherwise.
Lucy was right. Hannah needed this physical release. And so did Brandon. Why not share the physical act with someone she liked and trusted? She and Brandon were friends now. Why couldn’t they be friends with benefits? She would never let herself love again, and because of his job, she would never have to worry about loving Brandon. And he had stated he would never expect forever from anyone, either. A temporary, mutually beneficial relationship between them could work.
As soon as she made the decision, anticipation flowed through her, making her heart hammer with near-deafening force. She leaned infinitesimally closer to him. He met her halfway, lowering his head and brushing his lips across hers. Her world centered on his mouth, on the tickle of his unfamiliar beard and mustache. Then his hands tightened and the heat of his tongue found hers.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, rising on tiptoe to meet his hungry kiss. His palms skimmed down her back, grasping her hips and pulling her closer, close enough to feel the imprint of every ridge of chest muscle and the thickness of his erection. Her feminine parts awakened from a long slumber, like the sun peeking over the horizon and sending shafts of light radiating out.
His hands skimmed upward, sweeping beneath the hem of her T-shirt. The calluses on his palms lightly abraded her skin, acting like fuel to the fire he’d started inside her and making it spread. Then his thumbs edged beneath the elastic band of her bra and stroked the hypersensitive crease below her breasts.
Want rose inside her, traveling up her throat and through her lips to emerge in a needy cry. Struggling to regain control of the sensations rapidly overcoming her, she lowered her arms, slowly bumping her fingertips across his clavicles, his pectorals, the tiny, tight beads of his nipples. He groaned then tore his mouth from hers and pushed her back a few inches.
His hunger-filled gaze found hers. “Hannah, be sure about this. Be very sure.”
Doubts wavered like heat off the asphalt. She’d never had a purely physical encounter before. But Brandon made her feel alive in places that had been dead for a long time. Having an intimate relationship with no prospect of a future might be wrong, but it felt right. In that moment she couldn’t imagine walking away.
She stroked his jaw, testing his beard and finding it somewhere between bristly and soft. His facial hair was definitely attractive and the tickle-prickle on her palms aroused her in ways she hadn’t known possible. She swept a thumb across his mustache, then over the unexpectedly soft flesh of his lips. His tongue slipped out and teased the pad of her thumb. She felt the erotic curl deep inside and the want expanded to an excruciating pressure. Her doubts evaporated.
“I’m sure.” She coasted the sensitive pads of her fingers down the length of his powerful arms and threaded her fingers through his. When she turned to lead him upstairs, she heard his breath whistle between his teeth. On the landing outside her bedroom, reservations assailed her again, slowing her steps.
Lucy did this all the time and with men she didn’t know half as well as Hannah knew Brandon. Her resolve kicked in. Their chemistry had been brewing since the rope climb and the kiss in Mason’s bedroom. It wasn’t going to go away until she filled the empty well.
She entered her room and, without turning on the lights, crossed to the bed, then pivoted to face him and released his hand. With only the light from the quarter moon streaming through the windows, she couldn’t see his eyes, but she could make out the hunger stamped in the lines of his face. She took a deep breath for courage then lifted the hem of her top and whisked it over her head. Cool, sobering air brushed her skin. Before she could change her mind, she reached for the button at her waistband.
Brandon gently nudged her hands away. “Let me.”
But instead of removing her shorts, he feathered his thumbs across her belly, sketching her ribs, outlining her navel. Her muscles contracted involuntarily. Each sweeping pass wound something tighter deep in her core. Then he traced her bra straps, starting on her shoulders then descending down the cups to the valley between her breasts. Her nipples puckered, aching to be touched, tasted.
As if he’d read her mind, he bent forward and brushed his lips across one swell then the other. Then he peeled down the straps so slowly she wanted to rip off the garment. One swollen tip popped free. He caught it in his mouth. The hot, wet heat shocked a gasp from her. The tickle of his facial hair only magnified the sensation. Then he suckled and her knees weakened. She grasped his shoulders for support. When the second breast sprung from its lace cage he transferred his attention to it, and covered the wet tip he’d abandoned with his fingertips. He tweaked one nipple and laved the other, sending pleasure pulsing through her.
The emptiness inside her expanded, aching to be filled. She grasped his shirt and pulled. He resisted long enough to release the back hooks of her bra. After whisking it away he tossed off his shirt and p
ulled her back into his arms. His skin melded to hers.
Brandon took her mouth in a ravenous kiss, devouring her with a passion just shy of pain. His loss of restraint only magnified her response. She wound her arms around him. His chest hair teased her breasts. Impatient, she skated her nails down his back and tucked her fingers behind the waistband of his jeans. In her mind’s eye she could see the pale line that had haunted her dreams. She traced it to the front, pausing behind the brass button. With trembling fingers, she plucked open his fly then tugged down his zipper. The thickness of his erection filled the void, tenting his briefs. She covered it, testing the length and breadth. Eagerness made her shift her thighs.
With a hiss, he moved out of reach and unfastened her shorts. Hot palms skimmed them along with her panties over her hips. They fell to her ankles. She kicked them aside then shoved his jeans over the firm globes of his butt and wrapped her hand around his thickness. He hissed a breath again as she stroked him.
She’d had sex before. It shouldn’t feel different. But it did—in ways she didn’t want to probe right now. Urgency overcame her, but before she could kneel to remove his boots he backed toward the bed, towing her with him. After he sat, he urged her forward and captured her breasts, nipping, suckling and plucking, teasing, tasting, until all she could do was surrender to the knots of desire forming in her womb.
“Brandon, please, I—I need you.”
Upon hearing her plea, he combed his fingers through her curls then dipped between her lower lips. He bumped across her center and shockwaves rocked her, making her jerk, making her cry out. Then he stroked, each slick pass pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Her legs quivered. She dug her fingers into his shoulders then fisted them in his hair. Sounds she couldn’t contain escaped her mouth.
“Open for me, Hannah,” he said against her breast. And she eased her feet apart.
Then he clasped her buttocks and bent, replacing his fingers with his mouth. He lapped and swirled, building a whirlpool of sensation until an orgasm roared through her. She cried out as wave after wave cascaded over her like water tumbling through a broken dam. If not for his hands cupping her buttocks she’d have fallen to the floor.
After the waves ebbed, he kissed a damp trail up her belly to her breast, then he rose and covered her mouth. She tasted herself on his lips and felt the hammer of his heart beneath her palms. Then he lifted his head and stepped back. Air cooled her sweat-dampened body as she tried to make sense of his retreat.
He scooped up his pants, retrieved his wallet and extracted a condom. The condom gave her pause, but before she could process the reason behind her hesitation, he donned the protection, snaked an arm around her waist and slipped his fingers back into her damp curls.
His kiss was even hotter than before. Within seconds he’d rekindled the fire and obliterated whatever notion she’d been chasing. Teetering on the verge of release, she kneaded his shoulders, then she raked her fingers through his hair and broke the kiss to inhale a deep pre-orgasmic breath. Then he stopped. She wanted to howl in frustration.
“Come here,” he commanded, backing to the bed and sitting. “Straddle me.” He tugged her forward. She did as instructed, then he pulled her down onto his shaft and surged upward simultaneously, filling her deep, oh, so deep. She gripped his shoulders, rising and lowering to meet the rapid thrusts propelling her toward the climax he’d left pending. When it hit, a champagne shower of tingles rained from her head clear to the tips of her toes. He rode her through the swells buffeting her body, then he groaned as he found his own satisfaction.
Weak and breathless, Hannah melted against him, resting her face in the warmth of his neck. He smelled good. She nuzzled her cheek against his beard then tasted his salty skin. He shuddered and banded his arms tighter around her middle. His damp chest pressed hers, rising and falling at the same feverish tempo. His grip on her buttocks loosened, and his head dipped to her shoulder. The heat of his breath scalded her breast, making her nipple rise to attention.
Brandon lay back on the bed, pulling her with him. She lay atop him, her ear pressed to his chest above his pounding heart. Satiation left her limp, her limbs heavy, her mind numb. But then her brain reengaged and along with it, doubt.
Sex. That was all it had been, she assured herself. Very satisfying sex. But it was purely physical. She’d been without a man for a very long time. It was only natural that her body respond more enthusiastically than it had before. Not that making love with Rick hadn’t been great. It had. But this—she staunched the thought. To think of her husband while intimately linked to another was...wrong.
Uncomfortable, she shifted, breaking free of the arms he had loosely wrapped around her, and sat up. She felt Brandon move inside her and her lungs stalled. The urge to rock on him and rekindle the euphoria hit hard and fast. Shocked by her behavior, she stared at the man in front of her as her damp body cooled and reason slowly encroached. What was wrong with her? Thinking of Rick and wanting to ride Brandon simultaneously?
“Where are your rings?”
She’d been so tangled in her thoughts she hadn’t noticed Brandon lifting her left hand. Her wedding rings. At least she hadn’t dishonored Rick with the symbols of his love still on her finger.
“I left them by the sink. I don’t wear them when I’m cleaning.” She tugged her hand free and scrambled off him. She tried to ignore the vacant feeling. The need to escape swelled within her. She grabbed her shirt and pulled it over her head then donned her shorts. Covered, albeit without her undergarments, she took a shaky breath and dredged up the courage to meet his gaze.
“Hannah—”
“Thank you,” she said to ward off whatever he’d been about to say. She wasn’t ready for a post mortem. Not until she processed what had just happened and figured out how she felt about it.
He blinked and sat up, his brow furrowing. “Thank you?”
“I obviously needed that. And I think you did, too. As you said, neither of us has been with anyone for a long time, and we were both in need of a little...relief.”
“You’re treating what happened like a therapy session?” He didn’t sound pleased.
“Can’t we just be f—”
“Don’t denigrate what we just shared with a four-letter word.” He stood and hiked up his pants then crossed to her bathroom.
She knew the phrase he meant. Lucy had used it a time or two. “I was going to say ‘friends with benefits,’” she said when he returned.
“Friends. With benefits.” His flat tone made her stomach sink. He wasn’t taking this as well as she’d hoped.
“It can’t be more. You said so yourself. Because of your father. And your job. And I can’t... I can’t let myself care about another cop.”
He bent and snatched up his shirt then shrugged it over his head. She shouldn’t be mesmerized by the play of his muscles, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away. “Right. I’ll be back in the morning to work on the island.”
Then he turned and stalked out. Hannah remained motionless. From his dark expression, she didn’t think he appreciated her not making demands on him. She heard the front door shut then the roar of Brandon’s truck engine.
She’d had incredible sex and thoroughly satisfying orgasms. Why did she feel more tense and unsettled than she had before?
* * *
BRANDON DROVE TOWARD Hannah’s Friday morning, rehashing the argument he’d had with himself since leaving her bedroom last night.
His dad was right. He wanted more from Hannah than friendship. He hadn’t realized it until she’d described what they’d shared as nothing but a good f—No. He couldn’t go there. But more, as she’d reminded him when she’d thrown his words back in his face, was something he couldn’t have. Because of his job. Because of his father’s disease. Because she was Rick’s girl.
So where did that leave them?
As fuck
buddies? No. Hell, no. No matter how many ways he looked at it, the idea repelled him. He still desired Hannah, but he couldn’t disrespect Rick by treating his wife as a convenience. And now that he knew how Hannah tasted and the sexy sounds she made when she melted all over him, there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that they could return to their prior status. No matter what she hoped.
Walking away after he resolved Mason’s issue wasn’t an option, either.
So where did they go from here? He still had no answer to the question that had kept him awake most of the night when he turned into her driveway. The best he could do was focus on the tasks ahead—finishing Hannah’s kitchen and figuring out Mason’s issues—and work out the details as the need arose.
He knocked. When she didn’t answer he used the spare key and let himself into the house. The silence told him Hannah had already left for work. Deliberately timing his arrival to avoid her had worked. So why did that leave him feeling...out of sorts? Surveying his surroundings was a habit his sisters claimed he did wherever he went. He did so now, making a cursory sweep of the premises, beginning with the garage. Yep, her minivan was gone.
On his pass through the den he spotted Hannah’s computer on the desk and stopped in his tracks. Had she forgotten it? He checked his watch. She should be with a patient by now. That meant she was unlikely to return for it before lunchtime at the earliest. Her absence gave him an opportunity to search for the cause of Mason’s problems. The kitchen could wait.
Heart thumping, he jogged back to his truck, retrieved his laptop bag. He experienced a twinge of guilt as he linked their machines. Hannah wouldn’t like what he was doing. But he was certain Mason’s safety was at stake. Within minutes he was combing through her computer’s hard drive. Finding the TOR browser tucked away in an innocuously named file set alarm bells clanging in his subconscious.
