“Will you stop talking!” She grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged, bringing him closer.
The kiss was deep and their tongues danced as he eased her hips forward. Her hands held his head as took them under again. They were both struggling for breath when he broke the kiss.
“Behind you, there’s the back of the bench. Grip it tight, baby.” She did as he asked, and Jake began a slow, torturous journey over every inch of her chest, his mouth caressing the slopes of her breasts and circling the nipples that were hard and ready for his mouth. He teased her by touching everywhere but the dark circles.
“Jake!”
His laugh blew heat over one nipple just before he finally gave her what she wanted and sucked the aching bud deep into his mouth. She arched into him, her legs clamping around his hips.
“Don’t let go, baby.”
She was panting, little breaths of need as he pulled her legs from his waist, then slowly removed her panties.
“I need you now, Jake.”
“Soon, Rosebud, you got to let me fulfill my fantasy.”
He cruised his lips over the smooth skin of her stomach and through the thatch of black hair to where she needed him most. Her scent drove him crazy, as did the taste of her. He licked the soft pink folds and the tight bud, and she jerked upward.
“Now.”
“Don’t let go, Branna.” He teased the damp flesh, stroked and nibbled, and the tension inside her rose as she began to make those sweet little noises that drove him crazy.
“You bastard, McBride, I said now!”
He laughed as he pulled off his shorts and then grabbing her hips. He thrust inside that wet, tight heat. He rode her hard, and she met each thrust, urging him on until she screamed loud and long in his ear as he grunted in hers. He fell face-first into her lap, and she slumped backward, both breathing heavily.
When they could both breathe and think again, he lifted her down, holding her against his chest.
“You okay?”
She managed a dry laugh.
“I don’t think I need a run this morning.”
They showered, ate, and then he said he had some errands to do in town.
“I need to head home, Jake. I have work to do.”
That suited him just fine, as he had something he needed to do to, and not having her with him would make it easier. He walked into his parents’ house an hour later.
“Son.” His dad was sitting at the table drinking coffee with O’Donnell.
“Dad.” Jake poured himself a cup and took the seat next to him. “Mr. O’Donnell.”
He looked about as approachable as his daughter, and in the daylight, he saw the resemblance was even stronger than he’d originally thought. On Branna, those looks combined to make her the knockout she was; on him, they made up a man with sharp edges to his face and cold eyes beneath lowered brows.
“Declan is my name.”
“I know.”
“And you hate me because I hurt Branna.”
“About sums it up.”
“Hear him out, son.”
One thing Patrick McBride had always been good at was judging people, but Jake wasn’t inclined to agree in this situation.
