Page 50 of Conflagration
“I didn’t think I’d like not being able to touch you. And Christ, it was pretty damn annoying when you took my hands off your body.”
I blow out a deep breath, ready to retort when he continues.
“That being said, it was really fucking sexy watching you touch yourself.”
A slow grin spreads over my face, warm satisfaction pooling between my legs at the knowledge that he didn’t flat-out hate it.
“Oh yeah? Does that mean you’ll let me take over again?”
His eyes darken, and with one swift move, I’m flat on my back with Branson hovering over me, his cock still buried deep inside me. He places both hands on either side of my head, holding himself up.
“Yeah, baby. On occasion, I’ll let you ride my cock. Watching your breasts bounce up and down had me ready to come in an instant. I can’t promise on the whole not touching thing, though. Next time, I want to be able to grip your hips and help you plunge down on me as I thrust into you, seeing just how deep I can go.”
A small ‘O’ forms on my lips. I love the sound of that. “In that case, permission to touch next time has been granted,” I tell him, causing his head to tilt back in laughter.
All too soon, he’s sliding out of me, and I lift up, pushing him to the side until he’s the one flat on his back with me straddling him again. My hand comes down between his legs.
“Baby, I love your confidence in me, but round two’s going to have a wait a bit,” he says with a grin, glancing down at his semi-erect cock.
Rolling my eyes, I pull off the condom and move over him to go to the bathroom to get rid of it. When I come back into the room, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at me.
“You don’t have to get up, babe. You’ve been up on your knee for hours, and you need to rest. In fact, I was going to see if you needed to take something until I remembered the wine.” I cross the room and look down at his knee, noticing that it’s a little swollen. “You should probably ice it before bed,” I tell him, leaving the room to get an icepack before he can respond, sweeping up his crutches in the process.
He’s no longer on the bed when I get back to the room, so I set the ice on the nightstand and take his crutches into the bathroom, where he’s finishing up brushing his teeth. He turns to me with a toothpastey grin, looking years younger than his thirty-three. After setting the crutches up against the wall, I go through my nightly routine next to him, although tonight it feels different. More intimate than before, and I think it’s because of what just happened in the bedroom. I have a feeling that Branson’s never let a woman tell him what to do in the bedroom, and knowing that he trusted me pushes me over the edge.
When I admitted to Lyssa that I was falling for him, I knew it was only a matter of time until I fell completely. I just didn’t realize it would be only hours later. But here I am, standing naked next to him in his bathroom, fully aware that I’m head-over-heels in love with this man. The realization causes me to pause.
He must sense it because he looks up from the sink and gives me a sweet smile, one that melts my heart. I wonder if it’s possible that he could be feeling something more than physical attraction for me, too.
“I like you walking around my house naked,” he says, interrupting my thoughts. I look up at him, his hip resting against the counter, his arms folded across his chest. “It means you’re comfortable here, like it’s truly your home, and I like that. I like that a lot.”
My heart swells, and I want to throw my arms around him and tell him how I feel, but somehow, I reel myself in, keeping my elation to myself. “I am comfortable here. Not to mention, it helps you took your mom’s key back. There were a few close calls there,” I joke, and he just shakes his head.
After we get settled on the bed, I place the ice on his knee. Then I curl up into his chest to enjoy our nightly ritual of cuddling and watching Jimmy Fallon until falling asleep in each other’s arms.
He’s right. This does feel like home. It feels more like home than any place ever has. I’m just wondering how much longer I’ll be able to stay. Because if I had my choice? The ring my finger would never come off and I’d stay for the rest of my life.
The timer on my phone goes off, signaling that it’s time to take the ice off his knee. I take it to the kitchen, and when I return to the room, his eyes are drooping. I turn off the television and place the remote on the nightstand before clicking off the lamp and climbing into bed.
“Come here,” he murmurs in the darkness.
I comply readily, moving into my usual position on the bed. Resting my head against his chest, I bring a hand to his stomach, careful not to touch his leg.
His hand comes down and tangles in my hair. “So tell me. On a scale of one to ten, how’d I do tonight?”
Even though I can’t see him, I tilt my head up, my lips brushing along his jawline. “Branson, no scale is necessary. When it comes to you, there’s no comparison. It was the best date ever, and I can’t wait for more.”
The room is silent as I wait for him to respond. Instead of words, his hand comes up to my jaw, a thumb rubbing over my lips before he leans in and gives me a kiss. It’s soft and sweet, and he pulls away all too soon. When he leans his head back against the pillow, I take it as my cue to settle in, using his chest as my own personal pillow and closing my eyes.
Just as I’m about to fall asleep, his voice brings me back. “Ariana?”
“Mmm?”
His hand strokes my back, but I remain completely still. “I’m really fucking glad you’re here.”
My heart soars and I burrow into his side, wanting to be as close as I can. “Branson?”
“Mmm?” he echoes, his fingers still rubbing circles on my skin.
