I spread her lips before running the flat of my tongue over her softness. Another whimper escapes as she arches her pelvis. I focus my attention on her clit, licking and sucking the tiny bundle of nerves into my mouth until she explodes. I work her delicate flesh until her muscles finally loosen. Only then do I rise to my feet and shove the boxers down my legs before picking her up and carrying her to the hot tub. She rests her head against my chest as we sink into the warm water.
With her tucked close, I realize this is the happiest I’ve been since my father died.
And that has everything to do with this girl.
The one who has changed everything for me.
Chapter Thirty-One
Sydney
I wake to the steady rhythm of raindrops hitting the windows. I have no idea what time it is, but the skies are a dark, leaden gray. It only makes me want to snuggle against Brayden and stay in bed, cocooned in his blankets for the entire day. And since we don’t have any plans, we can do exactly that.
Yesterday turned out to be one of the most enjoyable afternoons I’ve ever experienced. My parents never took us camping, so this is the closest I’ve come to it. In no way am I saying that I’d like to pitch a tent and sleep outdoors, but this is a good compromise. I’m not going to lie, the idea that we’re so far from civilization is a little disconcerting. If I opened my window at home and yelled, half a dozen people would come running. Here, I could probably scream my head off and not a soul would hear me.
What I like most is that I have Brayden all to myself. We’re free to do what we want, even if that means lounging around and being lazy. That’s not something either of us gets to indulge in very often. It’s a real treat to not have a schedule for the day.
If the skies don’t clear, we can make popcorn, curl up on the couch, and watch movies. If the sun comes out, we can explore the forest and lake. Maybe relax in the hot tub again. Arousal stirs in my core as I remember the way he tongued me, getting me off before scooping me up and carrying me into the water where we had sex.
The guy is insatiable, and I absolutely love it.
Since he’s still stretched out beside me, snoring soundly, I slip quietly from the bed before grabbing a sweatshirt and yoga pants and padding to the kitchen to make breakfast. I’m starving, and I’d bet money that Brayden is, too.
I pull out everything I need to make pancakes and bacon before getting to work. There’s something relaxing about the sound of the rain plinking against the vast expanse of windows. It doesn’t take long before I’m humming to myself.
This kitchen is like a chef’s dream. Everything looks to be top of the line. The stove is massive and has an industrial appearance to it. Once the griddle is heated, I pour batter onto the non-stick surface and wait for it to bubble.
It’s funny—since I’ll be graduating in the spring, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about my future. Those thoughts have always centered on my career and the accounting job waiting for me at my father’s company. Boys have come and gone from my life with such regularity that I never considered someone might actually stick around after graduation. Brayden is the first person I could imagine being with long term, which seems crazy and yet...there’s something about him. Something about the way we are together. It makes me think that we could be going strong years down the road.
I shake my head; I’m getting way ahead of myself. This must be what relationship happiness feels like.
Brayden chooses that moment to stumble into the kitchen. His eyes are barely cracked open, and his hair is mussed. I’m tempted to run my fingers through the short strands. He didn’t bother putting on anything other than boxers that hug his lean hips and thighs.
“What are you doing up so early?” he grumbles, voice all low and sexy. It strums something deep inside, nearly making me forget about the pancakes I’m in the process of flipping.
I glance at the clock. “It’s after nine. I thought you might be hungry.”
“I woke up craving something, but it’s not food,” he says, padding over and wrapping his arms around me before pressing a kiss against the column of my neck.
His words make my belly hollow out as need throbs to life in my core. “How about we eat pancakes and then talk about the other.” My voice comes out sounding breathless, even to my own ears.
“I’m not interested in talking,” he growls against my neck. “I’m interested in fucking.”
Oh god...
The way Brayden talks is enough to start a veritable inferno in my panties. As he nibbles his way from my throat to my mouth, I realize that I need to push him away or breakfast will end up a burnt disaster, and I’ve put in way too much effort for that to happen. Plus, I get the feeling we’ll need our sustenance for the rest of the day. Whether or not the skies clear.
Once I’ve piled the pancakes on the plate and pulled the perfectly crisped bacon from the oven, we sit down and eat. Or, I should say that Brayden tugs me onto his lap, and we share one plate until both our bellies are full. Only after every bite has been consumed does he push the dish away before wrapping both hands around the small of my waist and hoisting me onto the long stretch of table as if I weigh nothing at all.
His fingers trail from my hips to my thighs before nudging them open. The heated look he shoots me is enough to send my belly into freefall. “Why are you wearing so much clothing?”
My mouth turns cottony. “It was cold when I got out of bed.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm.” With that, he pulls the sweatshirt over my head and tugs the stretchy yoga pants down my hips and thighs until I’m completely naked.
His hands stroke over my inner thighs, spreading my legs impossibly wide as his gaze stays locked on my core. I’ve never been embarrassed or shy about my body. I’ve been an athlete my entire life. I’m focused on how strong and fast I am rather than the physical attributes men find appealing. I’m well aware that my breasts are small, and my thighs are more muscular than most girls. To have Brayden stare so blatantly sets my nerves on edge. No one has ever studied me with such intensity. Especially while stretched out on the dining room table like I’m a main course to be feasted on.
As tempting as it is to close my legs or pull him up so that he’ll kiss me and stop staring at the most intimate part of my body, I remain still, allowing him to look his fill. The only reason I’m able to do so is because of the reverence shining in his eyes. He makes me feel beautiful. His fingers drift over my core, rubbing but never lingering in one place for long. It doesn’t take much before I’m growing restless beneath his expert touch.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers, gaze pinned to my center. “I can’t get enough of you. I love everything about your pussy,” he muses, almost as if he’s talking to himself rather than me. “So soft and tight. I love when my cock is buried deep inside you. The way your muscles clench around me right before you come. The little moans that escape from your lips when I lick you.” His gaze flickers to mine. “You love it, don’t you?”
It’s not a question. We both know that I do. Brayden has a very talented tongue. I can’t get enough of it. When I remain silent, his fingers brush over me before circling around my clit, giving it a little pinch. The pressure isn’t enough to cause pain. It does, however, send a bolt of need spiraling through me.
“Tell me you love it,” he growls.
“I do,” I say in a heady rush, “you know I do.”
His lips lift into a smug smile. “Yeah, but I like to hear you say it.” There’s a pause before he adds, “I don’t want anyone else to ever touch you this way.”
At this moment, it’s impossible to imagine anyone other than Brayden running his hands and mouth over me like this. There’s a level of intimacy we’ve managed to achieve that feels rare, and I don’t ever want to lose it. Just when I can’t take another second of his caresses, he rises to his feet and yanks down the front of his boxers until his thick cock is able to spring free. He pumps his erection a few tim
es as I spread my legs further. I’m mesmerized by the movements. I’ve never seen anything as hot in my life as Brayden stroking himself.
With his hand still wrapped around his girth, he positions the crown at my entrance, sliding in only an inch or two. It feels so damn good, but it’s not nearly enough to get me off. The wicked smile that curves his lips tells me that his movements are purposeful. A little flex of dominance to let me know who is in charge.
At least for the moment.
I arch off the table, attempting to coax him further inside me.
“I decide how much you get, not you,” he growls, slapping my clit with the tips of his fingers.
A gasp escapes as a thousand little shockwaves explode inside me. Even though the strike isn’t hard, it’s certainly enough to capture my attention. Brayden slides in another inch and my body shudders with pleasure. This little game he’s intent on playing only intensifies my arousal until it turns unbearable. Until climax is all I can focus on.
“Brayden, please,” I whimper, unable to stay still, “I need more.”
Almost stingily, he gives me a bit of length. As ecstasy ripples through my being, he withdraws, leaving me feeling bereft once again. “I know you do, baby.” His voice is tightly strung as if he’s just as pained and full of need as I am.
And then it starts all over again.
Each time he teases me, the pleasure ratchets up to unprecedented heights. The smooth slide of his cock fuels my senses until they reach a fever pitch. Until I don’t think I can take any more of this torment before breaking out into frustrated sobs. Just as I’m about to beg him to fuck me, Brayden drives deep inside my sheath, and a scream explodes from my lungs. The orgasm slams into me like a tidal wave, crashing over me, threatening to drag me to the very bottom of the ocean.
The intensity of my reaction seems to spur him on as Brayden finds his own release and we come together. He chants my name before collapsing on top of me and burying his face in the crook of my neck. We lay there for a long time, our hearts beating like the wings of a hummingbird before eventually settling.
When he finally lifts his head, there’s a cocky smirk curving his lips. “Now that’s more what I had in mind for breakfast.”
A chuckle slips free as I tunnel my fingers through his thick hair.
The pancakes were definitely good, but Brayden is right.
This was much better.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sydney
The soft patter of rain continues to fall for the rest of the afternoon. It would have been nice to go outside and explore the area, but I can’t say that I mind curling up on the couch and having a movie marathon. With a flame dancing in the grate, we lay entwined on the sectional, covered in a blanket. For lunch, Brayden whips up a few grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. It’s the perfect meal that hits the spot. While he cleans up the dishes, I wander around the cabin.
That thought makes me snort. In no way does this place resemble a dark, dank cottage. This could legit be someone’s home. It’s outfitted with all the amenities and creature comforts a person could need. Other than being situated in the middle of nowhere, it’s perfect. My thoughts meander back to this morning as I stroll through the family room, taking in all the knickknacks on display.
Maybe I’m wrong about the privacy thing.
Maybe it is kind of nice.
I gravitate to the massive stone fireplace with its jagged rocks in rich hues of gray and blue. Warmth emanates from the fireplace, and I hold out my hands to warm them. Even though the cabin’s temperature is toasty, the heat feels good as it seeps into my bones.
I study the framed photographs propped on the mantle. There are numerous ones of Brayden and his sister, Elle, at various stages of their childhood. I pick up one silver frame and examine the picture. My guess is that Brayden must be somewhere around ten years old. A huge grin lights up his youthful face and his dark eyes dance with excitement. His chest is bare as he holds up a fish with one hand.
There’s another of him and Elle at Christmas. In the background is a beautifully decorated tree that stretches toward the two-story ceiling. Both siblings are busy ripping into gifts with excited expressions painted across their faces. I run my finger slowly over his image. It’s not a surprise that he was such a cutie.
The third picture is one of a woman and man. They look to be in their mid-thirties. He’s tall and muscular, built much like Brayden, and she’s more petite, coming only to his shoulder. Their arms are wrapped around each other as they beam at the camera. I study the photograph as something pings in the back of my brain. His face looks vaguely familiar. Although there’s no reason to suspect that I would have met Brayden’s father. I pull it closer and examine the image more carefully.
I’m shaken out of my scrutiny when Brayden comes up behind me and slides his arms around my waist before tugging me close and nuzzling my neck.
“That’s Mom and Dad.”
“It’s a beautiful picture.” They look happy.
He nods. When he says nothing more, I twist around and find sadness flickering in his eyes as he stares at the photograph. I can almost see him getting lost in the memories. I’m intimately acquainted with that feeling, and all I want to do in this moment is banish it for him. Carefully, I set the framed photograph back where I found it before turning and looping my arms around his neck.
“If it’s too painful, we don’t have to talk about your father,” I say softly. “The fact that you’ve come here is a big step. It’s enough.”
“No, I want to tell you about him. I want you to know the kind of guy he was and how much he meant to me.” There’s a pause. “To all of us.”
Brayden shifts our bodies so that we’re facing the mantle before pointing to a large, silver framed photograph of the four of them.
“That’s the last family picture that was taken of us. I was a junior in high school.”
Again, I study his mother. She’s beautiful with shining, dark hair and eyes. It’s obvious who Elle takes after as she stands in front of her. Even though she has braces, she flashes a bright smile toward the camera. My gaze moves to Brayden. He’s not as tall as he is now and certainly not as broad in the shoulders or chest. His hair is a little longer than I’m used to seeing, but he’s still ridiculously handsome. And then my attention settles on the man who was ripped from their lives.
“He and my mom met when they were in high school and fell in love. They got married when they were still in college before Dad was drafted to the NFL.”
I glance at him, brows drawing together. “He played professional football?”
Brayden nods. “Yup, for fifteen years, and then he injured his shoulder. That’s when he decided it was time to retire.”
I study the picture more intensely as something continues to niggle the back of my brain. I didn’t realize Brayden’s father played in the NFL. I guess it makes sense that he would want to follow in his footsteps. “What was his name?”
“Jake.”
And just like that, a trapdoor opens and I’m in free fall.
“Jake Winchester,” I murmur. My voice comes out sounding strangled. It’s as if someone has their hands wrapped around my throat and is slowly squeezing the life out of me.
Brayden’s gaze flickers to me in surprise. “Yeah, that’s right. The last team he played for was the Chicago Bears before retiring. We got to spend about five years with him before a dumbass kid who was drunk took him out.”
Oh, god.
Oh, god.
Oh, god.
I can’t believe this is happening. My head spins until I’m dizzy with the sensation, and I can’t catch my breath.
“You don’t have the same last name,” I wheeze.
“No. My mother never changed her maiden name. So, I’m stuck with both. Mine is hyphenated, but I just use Kendricks. It’s easier that way.” A small smile quirks the corners of his lips. “Kendricks-Winchester is kind of a mouthful. Plus, can you see that on the
back of a jersey?”
I can only stare as my mind cartwheels.
Brayden is the son of Jake Winchester. Not once did it occur to me that his father could be the same man Peter killed in the accident.
“Hey,” he says, interrupting the whirl of my thoughts, “is something wrong? You’ve gone pale. Do you need to sit down?”
It isn’t until he lifts his thumb to wipe away the moisture gathered beneath my eyes that I realize I’m crying. It’s almost impossible to blink back the hot tears. “No, I’m fine.” I gulp down the thick emotion before forcing out the rest. “I’m just really sorry.” In no way does that adequately describe what’s crashing around inside me. The grief that is crushing the very life out of me, making it impossible to breathe.
He pulls me closer until the side of my face is pressed against his chest before dropping a kiss against the crown of my head. “There’s absolutely nothing for you to be sorry about. It’s not like you had anything to do with the accident.”
I squeeze my eyes tightly closed, wishing that were the truth but knowing it isn’t.
And sooner or later, Brayden will arrive at the same conclusion.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sydney
I tip my face toward the warm spray of water and pray that it washes away the guilt that’s eating me alive.
I have no idea what to do.
Should I tell Brayden what I’ve only now discovered? Do I confess that it was my brother who hit and killed his father? That Peter was the stupid kid who’d had too many drinks before sliding behind the wheel of his car?
The thought of pushing out those words makes me sick to my stomach. There have been so many times throughout the afternoon and then evening when I turned to him, fully prepared to vomit out the truth. Each time I opened my mouth, prepared to come clean, I couldn’t do it. The sound refuses to be summoned. It’s only a matter of time before Brayden makes the connection. I’m a little shocked that neither of us pieced it together before this very moment.
Campus Heartthrob (The Campus Series Book 2) Page 22
