“You like it.” Hannah makes quick work of my tie, tossing it behind us. “Wow. A headboard? Curtains? Anarmoire? You have a grown up room, Brody Saunders.”
“I’m a big boy, remember?” I set her on the mattress, kicking off my shoes and socks. My shirt comes next, the buttons pissing me off. That gets discarded too, and she reaches for me to join her on the bed. “Hi.”
“Hi.” She smiles, sitting up on her knees. “Will you tell me about your other tattoos?”
“The rose on the back of my hand is the flower from Olivia’s birth month. Got it when she was born.” I falter when Hannah kisses my chest, fingers fanning out over my stomach muscles. “Hockey sticks. That one is easy. Olivia’s initials.” I tap the small O in the middle of a heart above my wrist. “Many, many more. I could tell you all the stories, if you want.”
“No. Let me see the flower again.”
“This one?” My left hand slides up her neck, wrapping around her throat. “Look at you wearing my jewelry.”
“I’ve always liked necklaces.” Her eyes flutter closed. She sighs, the strap of her dress slipping down her arm. “The tighter the better.”
My cock hardens at her admission. My skin burns hot, and I need her so badly everything fuckingaches.
“Come here.” I stand, helping her to her feet. When she has her balance, I drop to the floor, running a hand up her leg. Over her knee, up her thigh, under her dress. I stop when I reach her underwear, twisting the lace. “I’m not going to be gentle with you, Hannah.”
“Good.” Her fingers thread through my hair. A tug. The scrape of her nails against my scalp.Heaven. “I don’t want you to be.”
“I’m going to mark you.” I lift her calf, setting her foot on my shoulder. Her strappy shoes are difficult to take off, but I get there eventually, letting the heel hit the hardwood while I suck on the skin above her knee. “I might leave a few bruises behind.” I move to the other foot, repeating the process. “I like to be in control.”
“What if I like to be in control too?” She looks down at me, eyes heavy-lidded. “Who’s going to win?”
You, I think pathetically.
Because I’m a helpless fucking wreck.
“We can take turns,” I say. “Each share the victory.”
“Would you crawl for me, Brody?” Hannah backs up, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. She spreads her legs, knees opening wide, and I whimper when she bunches her dress at her hips. I see light pink lace. A damp spot already. She pulls her underwear to the side, eyes on me. “What would you do to taste me again?”
“Anything.” I lick my lips. My hands tremble as I unbuckle my belt and unzip my pants, the slacks falling to my ankles. “Anything you want.”
Leaning back on an elbow, she grins. This smile is pure power. She knows she has the upper hand and she’s proud of it.
“Prove it.”
TWENTY-THREE
HANNAH
I’ve always thoughta man looked infinitely better when he was on his knees, and Brody is proving my theory correct. Eyes locked on mine. Cock thick and hard in his briefs. His palms—those big palms—are flat on the rug, and he’s crawling to me on all fours.
It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and I’d never admit I’m holding back a moan while the muscles in his arm flex with every inch he moves. A lock of hair falls in his face but he ignores it, and I decide I want him like this a thousand fucking times.
His shoulders fill the space between my legs, his big and broad body bathed in shades of gold and yellow in the dimly lit room. Brody lifts his chin, bottom lip caught between his teeth while his hand flexes on the rug.
“Can I?” he rasps, attention moving from my face to my underwear. “Please?”
“You’ve been so patient, Brody.”
I sit up and reach behind me, pulling down the zipper on my gown. I make a show of it, slipping the straps off my shoulders and letting the dress pool around my stomach. I lift my hips, leaving me in my new lingerie set—a light pink strapless top thatpushes my breasts together and matching bottoms that show off my ass—and smile.
“You’re a goddess.” Up on his knees, Brody puts both hands on the inside of my thighs. “I’m not worthy. Not after what I did last time.”
“Hey.” I bend so I can kiss him. He tastes like alcohol and something sweet. The hint of forbidden. A trace ofI don’t give a shit. “The past is in the past. We talked about it, and now we’re moving on. You want me, don’t you?”
“I might die if I can’t have you.” He runs his knuckles along the front of my underwear before giving them a firm yank, ripping the delicate material. When I start to protest, he puts his mouth on my hip, sucking a small pink mark on my skin. “I’ll buy you a new pair. A hundred pairs. I’ll do whatever you ask, but only because I know how wet it gets you.” He pushes a single finger inside me, and my back arches. A moan escapes me when he turns his wrist, getting deeper. “Yeah,” he whispers, licking my belly. “Just like that.”
