The Best Thing by Jaci Burton Page B

you—about this—for a long time, Tori. I want to get to know your body. I’m not in any hurry.”
    She let out a sigh. He was just too damn perfect, which ratcheted up her anxiety level to the nth degree. Why couldn’t he be a jerkwad who dragged her to the bedroom, screwed her brains out and dumped her back at her car with a pat on the butt and a transparent promise to call her tomorrow? It would make this so much easier.
    Instead, he was putting slow seduction moves on her that were shattering her from the inside out.
    He reached behind her and undid the clasp of her bra. Her breath caught as he drew it down, his gaze on hers as he grabbed the other strap and pulled her bra off, baring her breasts.
    He cupped one, lazily brushing his thumb over an aching nipple, then bent to take it between his lips. She arched into him, a part of her unable to believe that she was here, that he was touching her, had his mouth on her. She tangled her fingers in his hair and held him there, hoping this moment would never end. The pleasure was unbearable, and when he lifted and smiled that devilish smile at her, every female part of her tightened.
    He smoothed his hand down her stomach, popping the button on her jeans with ease. He eased the zipper down and she reached for his wrist to stop him.
    “I’m not going to be the only one with no clothes on,” she said.
    He grinned, and rose up on his arms to climb over her. “I can fix that.”
    He held out his hand and drew her off the sofa. “Let’s go play on that big bed.”
    With a shaky sigh, she let him lead her into the bedroom. He flipped the light on and pulled her into his arms, kissing her so thoroughly she was lightheaded, before depositing her on the edge of the bed.
    He drew his shirt over his head, and she sucked in a breath at his wide shoulders, expansive chest and those abs—oh, dear God his stomach. She always ogled the male fashion models and their six-pack abs, figuring they were an anomaly. Apparently not, because Brody had a stacked eight-pack going on. She reached out to smooth her hand over his rippled muscles.
    “Damn,” she said.
    He grinned. “Thanks. You have a pretty hot body yourself, though I can’t wait to get you naked so I can put my hands and mouth all over you.”
    She shuddered at the thought. “Let’s get you naked so we can get me naked and move on to the fun stuff, then.”
    She loved that he was in no hurry to get to her body. And when he unzipped his jeans and dropped them to the floor, leaving him in just his boxer briefs, she wondered what the hell he was doing in construction, when his gorgeous face and body could be blazing the billboards just like those athletes and models. With no sense of modesty he shucked the briefs, and she sent up a short prayer of thanks that she was going to have sex with this amazing man tonight.
    She unashamedly looked her fill, then her gaze drifted up to his face where he quirked a smile.
    “Now it’s your turn,” he said.
    She reached for her jeans, but he pushed her back on the bed.
    “It’s more fun if I get to do that.”
    He peeled her jeans down her hips and over her legs, then draped her clothes over the chair next to the bed.
    “These are nice,” he said, smoothing his hand over her peach-colored silk-and-lace panties. He drew her legs over the edge of the bed and cupped her sex, then dropped down to his knees between her legs.
    He pressed a kiss to her hip bone, slowly dragging one side of her panties down. Then he moved to the other side, kissed her hip bone again, drew her panties over her hips and pulled them down her legs. He flung them over his shoulder and spread her legs. Tori breathed deeply as he looked up at her.
    “Has anyone told you how beautiful you are?” he asked.
    “Not lately.”
    “I’ve always thought you were beautiful,” he said, smoothing his hand over her thigh and down her leg. He pressed a kiss to her knee. “But, Tori, you’re beautiful