Page 51 of When the Storm Breaks
He put his hands on my hips and walked me backward, kicking the door shut behind him. “Good thing you’re dressed for the occasion.”
“Good thing.”
My back hit the wall and he took my hands in his and raised them above my head, pinning them to the wall. Then he dipped his head and kissed the sensitive spot just below my ear. “Why’s your hair wet?”
“Went for a swim in the lake and then I took a nice, long steamy shower.” His lips coasted down my neck, brushing not kissing, as if he was breathing me in. He brushed his lips over my shoulder then my jawline and kissed the corner of my mouth. My heart raced and my breathing was shallow, almost scared that he was able to churn up so many emotions inside me with just a simple touch of his lips or his hands.
“Steamy, huh?” In the next beat, he said, “You went swimming without me?”
“Mmhmm. I floated on my back and sang to the moon.” Jeff Buckley’s version of “Hallelujah.” Whenever I heard that song, I pictured him floating in the Mississippi River, fully dressed with his boots on, singing. I didn’t think his death was an accident either.
“Lucky moon.” Finally, Brody kissed my mouth. My eyes closed, and my lips parted, my nipples straining against the thin silk of my camisole. His tongue slipped into my mouth and his rough, calloused hands slid down my raised arms and down my sides before flattening his palms on either side of me. “Did you think about me when you were taking that steamy shower?”
“I was thinking about how I wanted to finish what we started.” My hands were free to explore now so they found their way to the hem of his T-shirt and under it. I splayed my palms on his lower back and inched upwards over his hard muscles and warm, golden skin.
“Funny.” He tugged my bottom lip between his teeth and sucked on it before releasing it. “I spent the whole drive home wondering what that sweet pussy of yours tastes like.”
“You have a dirty mouth, Cowboy.” I yanked his T-shirt up, wanting it off.
He acquiesced, reaching behind his neck to pull the T-shirt over his head then tossed it on the floor. “You love my dirty mouth.”
Brody lowered his dirty mouth to my breasts and cupped the right one in his hand, teasing my nipple with his teeth. Biting it through the fabric. My chest heaved, and I held the back of his head to keep it there. “I love your dirty kisses.”
“Then you’re going to love the other things I can do with this dirty mouth.”
“What are you waiting for?”
He lifted me up off the ground and my legs cinched around his waist, ankles locked as he carried me up the stairs. I held his face in my hands and kissed him hard as he blindly steered us to my bedroom, guided by the moonlight bathing the room in blue. Downstairs Lana Del Rey was singing “Born to Die”, her falsetto voice effortlessly hitting the bright notes and dragging the listener to the depths of the dark ones. “Don’t you just love Lana’s sultry voice?”
“I love yours more.”
“You’re biased.”
“I loved your voice before I ever met you.”
I kissed him softly to thank him.
He tossed me on the bed and my back bounced off the mattress and then his arms were braced on either side of me. I lifted my hands to touch his face and brushed my thumb over his lips.
“Tell me what you want, Shiloh.”
I traced his jawline and his nose and the shape of his mouth with my fingertips, trying to commit them to memory. “I want you to ride me hard like I’m one of your bucking broncs.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Shit. How’d I get so lucky?”
“The stars aligned, and the universe is conspiring to make us happy. For a little while,” I added. Because we both knew something like this could never last.
“If that’s the case, we’d better make the most of it. We’ve already wasted too much time.”
My thoughts exactly.
He didn’t give me what I asked for. He gave me the opposite.
His hands skimmed up my sides, bringing the silk material with it and I sat up, so he could slide it off my body. He tossed it on the floor, his eyes roaming over my naked torso before he gently pushed my shoulders and my back hit the bed again. Slowly, so slowly, he slid my silky shorts down my thighs and over my calves, lifting one foot and then the other, planting them both flat on the mattress so I was spread out before him in all my naked glory. I pushed myself up on my elbows.
“Look at you,” he said softly. “You’re fucking perfect.”
I was far from perfect, but I worked hard to keep my body strong and toned so I accepted the compliment. Using his hands, he spread my thighs and pressed them against the mattress and when he lowered his head between my legs and his mouth caressed my inner thigh, his tongue making lazy circles, I gasped.
