Page 97 of For the Boys
She held the fabric in place with her hands and asked herself: was she ready to take this next step with him?
Truth be told, the physical aspect of her previous relationships had always been the easy part; everything else had been a fight, a constant struggle.
Until Brent. Being with Brent came naturally to her. She had not for one second felt the need to force anything or pretend to be someone she wasn’t to keep him interested. The older she got, the more she realized she needed a man who took her at face value and appreciated her, ugly parts and all. She had truly lucked out with Brent.
It was easy to admit to herself that she was nervous about what came next. She had been with more men than she could count on two hands, so she definitely wasn’t a prude or inexperienced. But he was Brent Jean; his sexual expertise almost certainly surpassed her own.
Truth be told, the disparity in their sexual histories wasn’t what was making her nervous though. No, what was scaring her was how sex had a tendency to change things. The last thing she wanted was to return from a magical weekend with Brent to find their dynamic had been irrevocably altered. This next relationship milestone was a big one, and she didn’t want anything between them to change because of it.
Brent stood a few feet away, watching her, waiting for her next move. She appreciated that about him more than she could say, that in this moment, a moment in which she was clearly at war with herself, he was letting her take the lead.
That right there was enough to calm her down. Decision made, she reached up and pulled the strings at her neck loose, letting her top fall onto the floor.
“Holy fuck,” Brent whispered.
“Is that a good fuck or a bad fuck?” Berkley asked with a nervous giggle, suddenly gripped by the need to cover herself.
“Oh, this is going to be a good fuck,” he said, a devilish grin splitting his face.
“Brent!” she scolded, a blush creeping to her cheeks. “Be serious.”
His gaze softened. “Berkley, you’re beautiful.”
Her lips curved up, and she took a step closer.
At her movement, Brent’s restraint apparently snapped, and he closed the remaining distance between them in a single long step. He slid his hands around her waist and down around her back to cup her ass.
Berkley threw her head back and laughed, which he took as an invitation to lean in and press his lips to her skin, where her neck met her shoulder.
She slid her own hands across his torso, his skin still slightly damp from the hot tub. Every exposed inch of him was warm and smooth as Berkley ran her fingers across it, relishing the opportunity to have unfettered access to this absolute perfect example of the male form standing in front of her.
The muscles of his back bunched as she scraped her nails lightly up the curve of his spine, and he gripped her earlobe between his teeth in response.
Digging her hands into his hair, she arched into him, grabbing fistfuls as she pulled his mouth toward hers. The moment their lips touched, Brent lifted Berkley off her feet, turning them so her back was against the wall. She wrapped her legs around him, and a low growl sounded deep in his chest when her center pressed against his thick erection. He rocked his hips forward, and Berkley nearly came undone at the sensation.
“Bed. Now,” she told him, pulling away from his mouth long enough to breathe the words.
“As you wish,” he said, equally out of breath. He moved away from the wall and carried her across the room, dropping her onto the bed and crawling over her.
Once horizontal, Berkley dug her hands inside Brent’s swim trunks to cup his ass before pushing the swimsuit down. Brent, getting the message, stepped back and let the trunks fall to the floor.
“Holy fuck,” Berkley said, echoing Brent’s earlier sentiment. “How are you even real?”
He laughed, standing unselfconsciously in front of her, every perfectly sculpted inch of him on full display. Dark hair dusted his chest and trailed down, leading Berkley’s eyes straight to his dick, which was standing at attention, ready for her.
“You forget I’m a professional athlete, my dear,” he said. “I get paid to look like this.”
Berkley shook her head, dragging her eyes back up to his. “Technically, you get paid to score goals and shit. You have no right to be this hot.”
He shrugged and leaned back over her, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to her chest. “And you have no right to have skin this soft,” he told her.
He ran his hand down her side and stopped at her hip, fingers toying with the tie on her swimsuit bottoms. “May I?” he asked.
She giggled. “Please.”
He pulled on a string, and one side of her bottoms came apart under his fingers. Moving the fabric out of the way, he trailed his fingers across the newly exposed skin, repeating the process on the other side. Berkley arched her lower back off the bed, and cool air struck her bared center the moment her bottoms fell away.
Brent sat back on his heels and stared at her. “My God. You are fucking stunning.”
