is, they’re wrong.”
She looked up, smile strained. “Well, duh.”
Impulse wound through him, and he leaned in and kissed her.
“Careful.” Her voice was more playful than warning. “Don’t start something you’re not willing to finish.”
Something told him heading down this path was a diversion, a way to cover scars and wounds with sex, and it wouldn’t do anything for either of them, besides provide a temporary distraction. Or that was the residual voice of his couples’ therapist—the man Emily cheated with. No point in listening to the man. Brad scooted closer. “I’m willing. Eager, even.”
*
The conversation triggered memories Gwen never summoned. Thoughts of when her brother had been one of her best friends. When Grandma was still alive, and money hadn’t come between them. She couldn’t go back to that; too much had changed between her and George to, get it back, and Gwen didn’t like lingering on it.
Diving into sex with Brad was a more appealing idea.
When he kissed her again, hard and hungry, she slid into his lap and straddled his legs. He groaned against her mouth. Sharp desire spread from her chest and flooded her nerve endings. This was better, without question. He dragged his hands down her sides, caressed her breasts, then slid his fingers up her back, to draw her in. Each time his tongue danced around hers, another flare of need glowed inside. She wanted to be closer. To be a part of him.
She shifted against his legs, and his cock hardened under her, teasing her mound and promising more. He dug his fingers into her hair and tugged her head back enough to look at her. “As much as I love you riding me, I think I promised we’d do this in bed, somewhere along the way.” His voice was heavy and breathless.
She caught his bottom lip between her teeth, a tiny laugh escaping her throat. “But that was days ago”—she ground against his erection, focusing on the tingles the sensation filled her with—“and bed is so far away.” She kissed him again and trailed her nails along the back of his neck.
When he cupped her breasts and drew his thumbs over her hard nubs, she arched her back with a groan. “Really?” He chuckled. “You can’t walk to the bedroom?”
“I guess I could.” She returned his favor, flicking a finger over the bump of a nipple changing the territory of his shirt.
“Are you afraid of changing your mind on that short trip?” His voice was light and playful.
Maybe . The word echoed in her head like a slap. She stuffed it aside. “Not even close.”
“Fuck.” He dropped his forehead against her chest, tone shifting in an instant.
“Not what a girl wants to hear. Not like that, anyway.”
“Trust me; I’m not changing my mind. I don’t have any condoms.”
She pulled his head back up and kissed him. “Lucky for you, I was a Girl Scout.”
“So we’ll eat cookies instead of having sex?”
She slid from his lap and danced out of reach. “So I’m prepared. I have some in my drawer.”
“Lead the way, my lady.” He stood and laced his fingers with hers. It was such a simple gesture, but every time he did it, something sharp and primitive responded behind her ribs.
She turned toward the master bedroom and stepped inside without thought, the surroundings familiar even in the dark. When he flipped the light on, she winced and blinked.
He whirled her to face him and looked her over. “I’m not doing this without light. Watching you is like the icing.”
Heat rushed through her—both want and embarrassment at the compliment. Any retort she had vanished when he nudged her backward and her legs hit the bed. One more gentle push from him, and she let out a soft eep , as she lost her balance and landed on her butt on the mattress.
He sat next to her and drove his mouth back to hers. Kissing, sucking on her lips, devouring her. There were too many clothes in the way. She needed to feel him. She pushed his shirt up, and he pulled
She looked up, smile strained. “Well, duh.”
Impulse wound through him, and he leaned in and kissed her.
“Careful.” Her voice was more playful than warning. “Don’t start something you’re not willing to finish.”
Something told him heading down this path was a diversion, a way to cover scars and wounds with sex, and it wouldn’t do anything for either of them, besides provide a temporary distraction. Or that was the residual voice of his couples’ therapist—the man Emily cheated with. No point in listening to the man. Brad scooted closer. “I’m willing. Eager, even.”
*
The conversation triggered memories Gwen never summoned. Thoughts of when her brother had been one of her best friends. When Grandma was still alive, and money hadn’t come between them. She couldn’t go back to that; too much had changed between her and George to, get it back, and Gwen didn’t like lingering on it.
Diving into sex with Brad was a more appealing idea.
When he kissed her again, hard and hungry, she slid into his lap and straddled his legs. He groaned against her mouth. Sharp desire spread from her chest and flooded her nerve endings. This was better, without question. He dragged his hands down her sides, caressed her breasts, then slid his fingers up her back, to draw her in. Each time his tongue danced around hers, another flare of need glowed inside. She wanted to be closer. To be a part of him.
She shifted against his legs, and his cock hardened under her, teasing her mound and promising more. He dug his fingers into her hair and tugged her head back enough to look at her. “As much as I love you riding me, I think I promised we’d do this in bed, somewhere along the way.” His voice was heavy and breathless.
She caught his bottom lip between her teeth, a tiny laugh escaping her throat. “But that was days ago”—she ground against his erection, focusing on the tingles the sensation filled her with—“and bed is so far away.” She kissed him again and trailed her nails along the back of his neck.
When he cupped her breasts and drew his thumbs over her hard nubs, she arched her back with a groan. “Really?” He chuckled. “You can’t walk to the bedroom?”
“I guess I could.” She returned his favor, flicking a finger over the bump of a nipple changing the territory of his shirt.
“Are you afraid of changing your mind on that short trip?” His voice was light and playful.
Maybe . The word echoed in her head like a slap. She stuffed it aside. “Not even close.”
“Fuck.” He dropped his forehead against her chest, tone shifting in an instant.
“Not what a girl wants to hear. Not like that, anyway.”
“Trust me; I’m not changing my mind. I don’t have any condoms.”
She pulled his head back up and kissed him. “Lucky for you, I was a Girl Scout.”
“So we’ll eat cookies instead of having sex?”
She slid from his lap and danced out of reach. “So I’m prepared. I have some in my drawer.”
“Lead the way, my lady.” He stood and laced his fingers with hers. It was such a simple gesture, but every time he did it, something sharp and primitive responded behind her ribs.
She turned toward the master bedroom and stepped inside without thought, the surroundings familiar even in the dark. When he flipped the light on, she winced and blinked.
He whirled her to face him and looked her over. “I’m not doing this without light. Watching you is like the icing.”
Heat rushed through her—both want and embarrassment at the compliment. Any retort she had vanished when he nudged her backward and her legs hit the bed. One more gentle push from him, and she let out a soft eep , as she lost her balance and landed on her butt on the mattress.
He sat next to her and drove his mouth back to hers. Kissing, sucking on her lips, devouring her. There were too many clothes in the way. She needed to feel him. She pushed his shirt up, and he pulled
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