Eventually, there’s no choice but to laugh with giddy delight. All the crazy emotion spills over into a haze of pure desire.
Weirdly, after telling him my life story, I feel lighter.
Like he’s taken my burdens and locked them away in a dark cellar. Somewhere they can’t escape and continue stripping me to the bone.
When he saw Harry, he didn’t hesitate. He just charged in.
Then he kept demanding every rotten detail from me, and I gave them up like splinters torn from my skin.
That realization overwhelms me as I win the race to undress, yanking his shirt off over his head. My fingers land on a small fresh bruise blooming on his shoulder.
“Oh no. Don’t tell me he—”
“Barely a bump. He elbowed me when I whipped him around. Forget about it, Sass,” he insists, kissing me so hard I obey.
I try.
But the visible proof of how he cares makes me a special kind of crazy.
I’m not elegant, and I’m definitely not graceful right now—actually, I feel a little like an elephant playing Twister—but when he looks at me with his hair gloriously mussed, he’s laughing.
“Come the hell here,” he rasps, pulling me closer.
Skin.
So. Much. Skin.
Obviously, I’ve seen a naked man before. Not since Harry, admittedly, but I never intended for him to be my last. The few dates I’ve been on were so meh I couldn’t bring myself to go to bed with mediocre men who might hurt me.
That trust thing really got me good.
But there’s no nagging voice in the back of my head whispering a warning, telling me to stop right now.
Instead, that heat pooling between my legs becomes magma.
I grind against him like an animal in heat.
He groans into my mouth.
Hearing his desire deepens mine. My pussy throbs so much it hurts.
“Need these clothes off, woman. Now. Don’t make me shred them with my hands,” he mutters against my lips.
Holy hell, the great Brady Pruitt is impatient.
I guess I’m doing something right.
Honestly, it feels so good I wonder if just grinding alone will get me there. That’s not supposed to happen.
I’m normally the kind of girl who needs a lot of focused attention to come. Or maybe I’m just a girl who’s never been with a real man until now.
My hand falls between his legs, skimming over his jeans. What he’s hiding makes me bite my lip.
Oh yes, he’shuge.
We’re talking tree-branch thick. I’ve never been a big size queen, but when I have such a small sample size to compare him to, I’m terribly curious.
Brady finally gets a good hold on my shirt and pulls it off over my head. He leans forward, sliding it off my arms.
