Page 47 of Fighting His Fate
“You werebeinga selfish bastard.”
He shook his head, clearly exasperated. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I want you, damn it! I want to be with you, and instead you gave me a consolation prize and pushed me away.”
“I was trying to do the right thing.”
She pointed at him. “I am not a child in need of protecting!”
“You’re a virgin.”
“So what? Does that mean I don’t get to decide for myself who and what I want? You’ll sleep with every other woman in town, but I get a pat on the head and a sticker? Fuck you, Brett.”
There was a darkness in his stare, but for once, she didn’t care. Screw him if he thought he could intimidate her right now. She was past the point of angry, past the point of shy.
He threw back the covers and crossed to her, his jeans slung low on his hips. “Do you know what I wanted more than anything tonight?”
She shook her head, the hair on her arms standing on end. He stood toe-to-toe with her, her head thrown back to see his face. “No.”
“I wanted to make love to you.” His gaze held hers. “I wanted to do it so bad. I still do.”
“Screw you.”
“Come back to bed, Grace. Please.”
She turned away, torn between what she wanted and her righteous anger.
“I’m sorry,” he said, threading his hands into her hair, the nerve endings on her scalp coming alive at his touch. His voice was like velvet, promising the one thing she wanted before all others. “Come back to bed, and I’ll show you how it’s done.”
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The promisein his words was her undoing, the darkness in his stare drawing her in like prey. He wanted to make love to her—really make love to her. Her heart beat furiously, heat spreading from her cheeks to her chest as he pulled her toward the bed.
She was keenly aware of the differences between them, male and female, experienced and not. But more than anything, she was aware of her feelings for this man. Feelings she knew he didn’t return.
It was enough that she felt them, enough that he held a special place in her heart. This wasn’t love—she wasn’t that naive—but losing her virginity to Brett would be more than a strictly sexual experience. He would care for her. He would show her the way. And if this was the only time they ever made love, she knew she would never be sorry.
He turned her back to the bed and she sat before him, the light from the fire casting a golden glow over his muscled abdomen. She touched him, her fingertips grazing his skin from his sternum to the waistband of his jeans.
“Move over,” he said huskily.
She slid across the bed, watching as he climbed in beside her, the aching need for his touch almost making her light-headed. His arms came around her and his mouth found hers, their earlier connection returning full force with his kiss.
She tugged at his waistband and he unzipped his jeans, sliding them down his legs. “I want to see you,” she said, hardly believing the brazen words had come from her mouth. But he was beneath the covers, and she longed to see his body just as he’d wanted to see hers. “I’ve never seen a man naked before.”
“Never?”
She shook her head.
He pushed the blankets down. A line of dark hair leading to more, his engorged penis standing at attention. It was thick and glistening at the tip. She swallowed hard. How wasthatgoing to fit inside her? She could see why the first time was often painful. She reached out to touch it tentatively, her hand fisting around its base. Brett took in a sharp breath. “Does that feel good?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Empowered, she explored his length, touching and gripping his heated skin and watching his reaction. When she slid her fisted hand down his shaft, he moaned out loud, so she did it again.
“Stop, that feels too good.” He hauled her against him and found her mouth, captivating her with the depth of his kisses.
He rolled her over, pinning her to the mattress, and her legs spread of their own accord. His weight felt heavenly against her, the hardness of his erection pressing directly on her most sensitive places.
