Page 38 of Vow to Protect
My shoulders slump into him. Brett’s smoldering grunt empowers me. I’m close enough for soft pants to flush my cheeks, but far enough so our lips don’t unite. My breasts snuggle into his chest. A tiny sparkle in the pitch of his eyes offers me a star to light the way, offering me hope to cling onto. The intensity of his gaze erupts from detached to fiery lust.
I’m breathless and needy, holding on to my last thread of composure. From death, to insanity, to mania, to lust. The last few weeks have taken their toll. I shouldn't crave this man’s mouth so intensely. Just when I fear he might push me away, he yanks my mouth onto his. A tremor travels the length of my spine, shocking my core like an earthquake of ground shattering proportions.
He tilts his head, starting the kiss off hard and forceful, bruising my lips and scratching my chin on coarse stubble. It slows to tender and teasing. Our tongues clash and joust. Exploring licks roam and worship, roughly then softly, brutal then merciful. His hungry mouth warns of punishment but offers fulfillment. He grunts into the unforgiving deepness and growls when he draws in my lower lip.
My insides grow hotter and greedier. A firm hand grips my thigh. He sucks in when his ribs compress. I drag my mouth away and shimmy backwards, peppering kisses over the contours of his chest to his belly button. Hands fist my hair, weaving through the strands. One second he tugs my head high, the next he lets it drop. A contradiction of his cast iron will, a war within himself to let go.
I tug at the towel, flapping the edge over his lap so his length springs out. Every part of me ignites with a longing to touch, taste and be taken. Brett props himself up on his elbows, the stiff movement causing him to groan. When I glance up, his eyes undress me with the span of his stare. A delicious heat detonates in my groin.
With my green eyes to his carnal black, I dip my chin. Clean skin and lavender. Antiseptic and lust. I wrap the thick shaft in my small hand, marvelling at its breadth. The vibrations from his dick only serve to make me wetter and hungrier than I’ve ever been before.
I drag my tongue from the base to the satiny tip, lapping up glossy pre cum. He stifles a growl. A coiled energy pulsates through his limbs. I hum and sink my mouth over his erection. What was barely restrained, becomes vicious in a beat. His fingers float under my t-shirt where he finds my bare breasts. He pinches my nipple. An aphrodisiac shock ripples right through me. I groan. That noise seems to feed his appetite. His hips buck so his hardness buries in my throat. A hand weaves into my hair possessively, jerking me deeper and dragging me higher.
“Fuck!” he snarls.
Hot spurts.
Feral grunts.
Fisted tugs.
I swallow every drop of him and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Brett lurches forward, grimacing as his tortured body folds. He takes my hands in his and drags me up his body.
“I’m too tired to move from this bed,” he whispers thickly. “Stay where you are.” The release, the pill and the pain rasps in his throat. With a light shove, he rolls me off his chest, but ensures I’m tucked close to his side.
He places soft lips to my forehead, inhales and mutters, “I’m sorry.”
“I know you’ve had a busy night,” I whisper, nuzzling into him for comfort. With his arm around me, I’m safe and content for the very first time.
His breathing is shallow, seconds away from sleep. Fingers tap the smooth skin over his heart with barely any movement. “My heart belongs to someone else. I hate myself for wanting you.”
“What—who?” I try to suck in, but my lungs won't accept the full breath. “You said you didn’t have a girlfriend?”
“I don’t. Look…” he murmurs. “You’re leaving in a few days. It’s best if we don’t...”
I unravel myself from his sleepy embrace, shifting to the side of the bed. He’s right. This was a mistake. The intensity I felt was born out of adrenaline. A combination of soaring emotions and an urgency to live, breathe and belong.
I’ll be gone in a few days. A new start. A new identity. A new me.
Freedom is mine for the taking, if this man doesn’t take my heart hostage.
The mattress dents.I turn my head and catch Brett De Courcy fleeing the bed we both slept in. His naked muscular form prowls to the armchair where his phone vibrates.
There’s not much to dislike about a man like him. With ruggedly defined good looks, a body carved to win wars and distinguished confidence. He’s unlike any man I’ve ever encountered.
I huddle under the duvet, spying quietly. The revelation of a girlfriend pirouettes in my mind. Whoever she is, the woman owns his heart. A hateful flutter unsettles my pulse. I have no right to be jealous. My goal was freedom, not tethering myself to a man. I asked for help, not ownership—a ticket out of town not belonging. So why does she bother me so much?
“Good morning, Shortie.” His shoulders round, and even though his back is to the bed, I can tell by his voice that he’s smiling. “Did you sleep well?” There’s a brief pause while he listens. “I was working.” His head bows at the lie. “We need to have a chat later about something important.” Brett strolls to the window. A strawberry blushed cloud hides the rising sun like his secrets. “How about we make marshmallow monsters later?”
I love how his posture softens as he speaks. How his usual cool tone warms with adoration and how he laughs like a light shines into his soul, gifting joy. “Of course we can use green goop.” The carefree chuckle tickles my heart. “You know I love you too, Shortie.” His sincere proclamation almost breaks me. “I’ll see you this evening. Have a good day at school.”
When Brett finishes the call, he doesn’t put away his phone. Instead, he taps, swipes and sighs. Minutes go by, and he continues to stare blankly at the screen. I peer over the duvet, lowering it a fraction to catch a glimpse of his screen. Something or someone has caught his attention. A slithery vexation crawls down my legs.
“You love her?” My question shatters his reverie.
His head snaps around. “Yeah, she’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Tilly, or the woman you love?” His jaw ticks in the silence. My stomach rolls, trapped in his suspicious glare. Flaming knuckles contract around the device in his hand. The air is sucked from the room and replaced with a heavy dark haze. “You said something about her last night,” I rush the words in my defence.
