What If (Willowbrook Book 2) by Ashlyn Mathews Page B

Drew was her romance.
    Hand-in-hand, they stopped next to the bed. He sat and pulled her to him, cradling her between his strong thighs.
    “I—” Holy cow, having sex with him would change everything . She swallowed down her nervousness.
    “I want you.” He searched her face with the force of the sun high in the sky. “You want me. Tomorrow, we’ll have a long talk about the past, the present, and our future. How about it?”
    Our future . Drew, her and their baby. She nodded.
    With unsteady fingers, he unbuttoned her shirt. As he pushed aside the material, she held her breath. Would he notice her girls were bigger?
    Seemingly oblivious to the size of her boobs, he unclasped her bra and threw it onto the chair. She followed the trajectory of her bra. The pink fluff landed smack dab in the middle of the chair. His baby blues gleamed at the spot-on contact before his attention shifted to her breasts.
    As he stared at their roundness, their heaviness, the gleam in his eyes faded, replaced with the intensity she remembered well when it came to sex with Drew. He planned on doing her good and hard just to watch her girls bounce. Wow . Her legs trembled.
    He cupped her breasts then coasted the pads of his thumbs over her nipples. They tightened into little balls, waiting to be tugged and pinched. She shivered in anticipation.
    With his thumb, he pulled down her bottom lip. She opened her mouth, and he eased in his index finger. She wrapped her lips around his finger and sucked—in and out with the slightest suction and a tad of friction with her teeth. A feral growl burst from him. He tangled his fingers into her hair and tugged back her head, forcing her to release his finger.
    “You were gonna make me come,” he said, breathing hard.
    Good . Her panties were soaked. The room spun. She stripped off her jeans and her panties and literally jumped him. As she balanced on his strong thighs, she fumbled for his erection through the opening in his boxers.
    Encircling the throbbing, thick head with her fingers, she glided her hand up and down the length of him. Slow. Slower. Faster. Harder. He threw back his head. Lifting her hips, she guided him inside her. His thick length stretched her insides, and Emma couldn’t breathe.
    She was wet. He was hard. She wanted him to do her against the wall. Or the door. Whatever. Wherever. She just needed to feel alive and reckless with him. Only him, her Drew.
     
     

Chapter Eleven
    God, Emma was like an untamed cat, and Drew fucking loved her wild side. He hooked his arms under her round and perfect ass, stood, and headed for the wall, any wall.
    “Hang on tight, baby doll. I’m gonna crash your world.”
    Low, throaty laughter slipped past her luscious lips. “Promise?”
    “On a pinky swear.”
    “Aw, Drew.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “You break my heart.”
    Of course he did. Their relationship had started on a pinky swear, on his promise to date just her. The pinky swear had meant the world to her. That was what she’d told him that day. Now he realized he hadn’t given her one since.
    If he had put more effort into them instead of letting their relationship coast on cruise control, would she have trusted him enough to give him the truth rather than excuses? Damn right.
    As though she understood the realization he’d come to, she squeezed her eyes shut. Tears gathered at their corners, and his chest ached at how much she hurt.
    The wild side of her had disappeared and was replaced by the Emma he remembered well. The one who wanted . . . no, needed love with her sex.
    How had he been so wrong? One last time with Emma wouldn’t get her out of his system. Sex with Emma would come with strings attached. Yet after being without her, he welcomed the strings that had kept him grounded.
    Unlike Emma though, he wouldn’t openly reveal his hurt. If he spoke of how lost he’d felt after she’d ditched his ass, he’d lose the tight reins on his emotions. Sure, he had a