wish.
****
As the storm raged through the night and next day, Brenna delightfully helped tick off Eric’s list of wants. With no sign of the blizzard letting up, it looked as though they might make it through the sexual marathon his imagination had planned.
Content and spent, they lay entangled on a bed in one of the upstairs rooms.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Eric said as he trailed kisses up her body, which gleamed with a light sheen of sweat. The soft cotton sheets stuck to the underside of her thighs.
Her stomach rumbled.
Eric glanced up. His hair mussed, his own body slightly sweaty, his gaze burning with green intensity..
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Always.”
“Mmmm.” He continued his kissing path upward.
“I also want real food.”
His chest rumbled as he chuckled and rolled off her. The bed they’d claimed for the continuation of their sex-capades lay in disarray—the sheets rumpled and untucked. The room smelled of wood panelling and faintly of musty old sheets, but now their lovemaking left its own stamp.
“I also need a shower,” she said.
“Well, you are a dirty girl, but I don’t think a loofa will cure that.”
She smacked his shoulder. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.” He winked.
She stretched her arms over her head and extended her legs. Her muscles a dichotomy of limber and stiff. Her body deeply satiated and relieved of months and months of sexual tension, now grew stiff from their rather rigorous schedule and ambitious positions.
“Okay, until the power comes back, an actual shower is out,” Eric said. “But I could arrange sponge baths for our mutual satisfaction. Then we could delve into a hearty breakfast.”
“Lunch.”
He picked up his cell phone and tapped it on. “Lunch.”
Her stomach rumbled at the promise of food. “Food first, then sponge baths. I have a feeling the latter will lead to something else.”
“See?” He ran a finger down her bare arm. “Dirty girl.”
****
With an easy silence, Brenna climbed into her day-old clothes and watched Eric do the same. He slipped the jeans over his ass and zipped up the fly. Somehow they’d managed to clean and hang her chocolate-soaked clothes beside his during a break. Now the fire-dried, slightly damp clothes chafed against her skin. She wanted to stay naked with Eric. Did he have to wear the shirt?
He tugged on the sleeve while it hung on the drying line, and his gaze flicked to her.
She shook her head.
His grin widened, and he left the shirt hanging by the fire. His muscles rippled, and she drank in the sight of his well-toned body. That V killed her.
A memory of tracing it with her tongue streaked through her mind.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Come on.” Eric grabbed her hand and led her to the kitchen. He made instant coffee by boiling water in a pot over the fire while Brenna made sandwiches. Luckily, most of the stuff she’d brought up didn’t go bad in one day, and the ham had been left in the cold storage room.
With hunger pains stabbing her stomach, Brenna shoved the food in her mouth with no care of what Eric thought—she was passed the point of self-consciousness. Her lip split when she tried to get more food in her mouth. With a wince, she flicked her gaze to Eric. He hadn’t noticed any of her table manners, or lack thereof—too busy stuffing food into his own face with the same frantic vigour. She laughed, and Eric paused with half a sandwich shoved in his mouth to glance at her.
“I still don’t see why we had to get dressed for this,” Eric muttered with a mouth full of food. He paused, glanced down at his bare chest and sent her a wink. “Well, mostly dressed.”
“I don’t want our bare asses on the furniture.”
He raised a dark eyebrow.
“Well, okay. Not all the furniture.” She grabbed a quick swig of water. “If we did, I’d have to admit the possibility my brother and his harem of harlots have done the same thing, and that’s just icky.”
“Harem of
****
As the storm raged through the night and next day, Brenna delightfully helped tick off Eric’s list of wants. With no sign of the blizzard letting up, it looked as though they might make it through the sexual marathon his imagination had planned.
Content and spent, they lay entangled on a bed in one of the upstairs rooms.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Eric said as he trailed kisses up her body, which gleamed with a light sheen of sweat. The soft cotton sheets stuck to the underside of her thighs.
Her stomach rumbled.
Eric glanced up. His hair mussed, his own body slightly sweaty, his gaze burning with green intensity..
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Always.”
“Mmmm.” He continued his kissing path upward.
“I also want real food.”
His chest rumbled as he chuckled and rolled off her. The bed they’d claimed for the continuation of their sex-capades lay in disarray—the sheets rumpled and untucked. The room smelled of wood panelling and faintly of musty old sheets, but now their lovemaking left its own stamp.
“I also need a shower,” she said.
“Well, you are a dirty girl, but I don’t think a loofa will cure that.”
She smacked his shoulder. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.” He winked.
She stretched her arms over her head and extended her legs. Her muscles a dichotomy of limber and stiff. Her body deeply satiated and relieved of months and months of sexual tension, now grew stiff from their rather rigorous schedule and ambitious positions.
“Okay, until the power comes back, an actual shower is out,” Eric said. “But I could arrange sponge baths for our mutual satisfaction. Then we could delve into a hearty breakfast.”
“Lunch.”
He picked up his cell phone and tapped it on. “Lunch.”
Her stomach rumbled at the promise of food. “Food first, then sponge baths. I have a feeling the latter will lead to something else.”
“See?” He ran a finger down her bare arm. “Dirty girl.”
****
With an easy silence, Brenna climbed into her day-old clothes and watched Eric do the same. He slipped the jeans over his ass and zipped up the fly. Somehow they’d managed to clean and hang her chocolate-soaked clothes beside his during a break. Now the fire-dried, slightly damp clothes chafed against her skin. She wanted to stay naked with Eric. Did he have to wear the shirt?
He tugged on the sleeve while it hung on the drying line, and his gaze flicked to her.
She shook her head.
His grin widened, and he left the shirt hanging by the fire. His muscles rippled, and she drank in the sight of his well-toned body. That V killed her.
A memory of tracing it with her tongue streaked through her mind.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Come on.” Eric grabbed her hand and led her to the kitchen. He made instant coffee by boiling water in a pot over the fire while Brenna made sandwiches. Luckily, most of the stuff she’d brought up didn’t go bad in one day, and the ham had been left in the cold storage room.
With hunger pains stabbing her stomach, Brenna shoved the food in her mouth with no care of what Eric thought—she was passed the point of self-consciousness. Her lip split when she tried to get more food in her mouth. With a wince, she flicked her gaze to Eric. He hadn’t noticed any of her table manners, or lack thereof—too busy stuffing food into his own face with the same frantic vigour. She laughed, and Eric paused with half a sandwich shoved in his mouth to glance at her.
“I still don’t see why we had to get dressed for this,” Eric muttered with a mouth full of food. He paused, glanced down at his bare chest and sent her a wink. “Well, mostly dressed.”
“I don’t want our bare asses on the furniture.”
He raised a dark eyebrow.
“Well, okay. Not all the furniture.” She grabbed a quick swig of water. “If we did, I’d have to admit the possibility my brother and his harem of harlots have done the same thing, and that’s just icky.”
“Harem of
Similar Books
