Page 35 of Fighting His Fate
She squeezed her eyes shut. “No.” Her response was less than convincing to her own ears.
“Can you tell me what I did?”
Like you don’t know.
He’d pushed her away with a single conversation, as effectively as he’d shrugged off her touch. But how could she say that? She heard his bed squeak, then the sound of his footsteps before the strap on the baby’s car seat clicked into place.
He came and sat on the bed behind her, the mattress sinking beneath his weight, and her eyes opened wide.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “There are some things I’m not very good at talking about.”
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach from his nearness. She could smell his scent on the air, masculine and clean from the shower he’d taken before hers. “I just wanted to understand.”
“I know.” He ran his finger from her shoulder blade to the middle of her back. He was touching her, his body close to hers, the contact lighting up her senses and priming her for more. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.
What would happen if she rolled over now? Would he see the yearning in her eyes, how much she wanted him to continue touching her? She’d been lying to herself in the bathroom. Yes, she wanted the kind of relationship Brett Champion could never give. But she also wanted to trace the pull of sexual attraction, needed to see where it might lead. She was drawn to him, feeling more alive than she ever had as her pulse raced, desire warring with her own good sense.
The bed moved as he stood. “Get some sleep,” he said.
She rolled over and sat up, desperate to keep him from leaving. “Brett.” His gaze locked with hers before moving lower, and she was aware of the thin fabric covering her breasts.
She shouldn’t want him, but she did, shouldn’t be able to shift so quickly from John to this man, from commitment to fling in a heartbeat—but she was. Oh, God, how she was! Brett was the antithesis of everything she should want, but he was the only man who’d truly stirred her soul.
He sat back down, the scent of him reaching her nostrils before his finger grazed her sensitized bottom lip, stroking its fullness.
She exhaled a shaking breath, the very core of her body seeming to tremble with a heady mixture of need and anxiety. This man was out of her league by a mile. An open invitation made its way into her stare.
He swore under his breath and leaned in to kiss her, his lips touching hers tentatively before swooping in to taste her fully. He was all male, from the scrape of his stubbled chin to the spicy scent that surrounded him, and her heart pounded with a desperate desire for the unknown.
That’s when she knew she was in trouble. There was more passion in that single kiss than she’d experienced at the height of her make-out sessions with John, and she leaned into it, letting herself fly high with the sensations this kiss evoked.
He laid her back on the bed, pulling her against the length of his hard torso as he settled in beside her. Fear spiked in her bloodstream. That one movement highlighted the vast difference in their experience. She’d never lain so intimately close to a man, but clearly he was used to pulling a lover tightly against his hard body.
He kissed down her neck, the dizzying sensation mixing with her panic. What if it was over too quickly, if he never even realized this was her first time? Maybe it would be for the best. She could play along, pretend to be the worldly woman she’d told him she was, but even as she thought it, she knew she couldn’t do it.
He lifted his head. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
He ran his hand down her arm, squeezing. “You’re tense.”
“Just nervous.”
He pulled back a fraction of an inch. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
She leaned in closer, unsure of herself but equally determined not to let him get away. “I do.” Tentatively, she touched his bronze skin, her hands cupping his shoulders, feeling the strength of the bunched muscles before she trailed her fingernails into the damp hair at his nape. His eyes darkened, giving her courage, and she kissed that glorious mouth with her own.
She was in control of their kiss, and she slowed it down, enjoying the danger she felt in his arms and the intoxicating taste of him on her lips. Her arms encircled his neck as she fitted herself more closely to his body, the war between excitement and fear seeming to evaporate the moment it was won.
He groaned, his mouth again moving down the column of her neck to the hollow beside her collarbone. She arched her back at the glorious feeling. She was wax melting before a flame, fluid and hot. His belt buckle grazed her abdomen, making her flinch. “Ouch.”
He pulled back and looked at her, the pupils of his eyes dilated and his face lightly flushed. Damn, he was sexy.
“Your belt buckle,” she said.
“Sorry.” He undid his belt and ripped it from his jeans, throwing the offending item onto the other bed before coming back to her. This time, his hand slid up the back of her shirt, caressing the bend of her spine, then the curve of her hip over her leggings.
She was unfurling beneath him, her legs spreading as he shifted between them, the hard ridge of his erection pressing firmly against her most sensitive spot. John had never done this—no one had ever done this. She reveled in the sensations coursing through her body, even as her brain began to scream for the return of rational thought.
