I wave my hand from side to side. “Meh. I think I like your beard more.”
Brody places the cups of coffee down on the counter before charging toward me like a bull being teased by a red flag. I’m laughing because he looks ridiculous. I’m laughing because this is the second time in twenty-four hours that he has thrown me over his shoulder. I haven’t experienced this since I was a child. I’m laughing because I don’t know what other emotion I’m capable of at the moment.
He tosses me down on my bed. “You’re killing me,” he says. Another foreign feeling of a smile stretches across my cheeks. “And that makes you smile. What kind of person are you?”
“One who likes to win,” I say with a satisfied groan.
Brody pulls his shirt off, standing in the glow of the sunlight’s rays bouncing off the icy white mountain tops. Why does he have to look so good?
His pants are the next to fall, but I’m still in an oversized t-shirt and shorts, something I barely slipped on before purposely falling asleep last night.
He places his hands on his hips, doing little to conceal the bulge pressing against his boxer briefs. “Do you always stand in front of open windows, naked?”
“Nope. Just yours.”
“I see.”
“You’re not giving me a clear signal here,” he groans.
“Didn’t you sleep in the hallway?” I counter.
Brody runs his fingers through his hair, clearly frustrated. “Fine. Tell me to stop and I’ll leave.”
Shit. That’s forcing me to comply. Sneaky bastard. I close my eyes and think about my decision, but he doesn’t give me the time I need to consider my options. My shirt is being pressed up to my neck by his head as he trails his lips in an uneven pattern up the center of my torso.
He yanks my shorts from my waist and tosses them far enough away that I hardly hear the material hit the floor. “It’s like you were waiting for me,” he says; “no panties, no bra.”
“I was asleep,” I remind him.
“Dreaming of me making you smile?”
Brody slips my shirt above my head, leaving me naked beneath him. The soft rasp of his voice makes my muscles tighten as he wraps us both in my blanket and lowers his body onto mine. I open my eyes in the comforter’s shade, finding him staring, smiling, and softly brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “Kiss me,” he sings; the 90s version by Sixpence None The Richer. “Out of the bearded barley.” I know the lyrics well, as he obviously does. However, I don’t think he understands the meaning of the words. I’m not sure why I know the definition of bearded barley, but it has nothing to do with a beard or barley. In fact, it’s something a man wouldn’t be saying at all. I debate informing him of this tidbit, but his lips are against mine and I’m melting into the plush mattress, feeling every inch of his body touching every inch of mine. His face is smooth and smells like a spicy lotion. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I don’t act like this. I’ve never found a reason to act like this.”
“Like what?” I whisper, feeling breathless beneath his weight.
“Uncontrollable; possibly needing something I can’t have.”
I am immediately weakened by his words. “I might not be what you’re expecting,” I tell him.
His lips return to mine, kissing me slowly, letting his mouth linger between breaths. His tongue teases mine and I wrap my arms around him, squeezing away the tension. My nails press into his skin, retaliating against a loss of control.
His hand travels down my side, skating along the curve of my figure. My breaths increase in speed and my heart pounds against his chest as his fingers dip between my legs. His touch forces my body to arch off the bed, away from him as if I don’t want more. He follows the restlessness of my lower body, claiming parts he knew needed the most attention—the parts that turn my ragged breaths into pleading cries.
Brody slides down the length of my body, determined to prove the worth of his tongue compared to his fingers. This man is skilled in finding spots, finding all the spots at the same exact second. His hands are clenching my hips, holding me hostage against his mouth, allowing me to do nothing more than scream for more until I fall. I fall from the sky back into my cloud of a mattress and struggling to catch my breath.
It’s been so long, and I feel numb everywhere.
Brody makes his way back up the center of my body, kissing every important spot along the way until he reaches my collarbone where his teeth graze gently against my skin. I shudder from the overstimulation. “Just as I imagined,” he whispers in my ear.
I reach down to return the gesture, sliding my hand beneath his boxer briefs and wrap my hand around the girth of what feels much larger than what I expected. I twist my hand around his hardness a few times before sliding out from beneath him to switch positions.
I can’t have him thinking I’m putty in his hands after making me scream like that.
I free him from his boxer briefs and continue jerking my hand up and down before lowering my mouth around him. A moan slips from his lips, encouraging me to go further. I keep my hand moving while twisting my lips and tracing my tongue in circular motions. Brody’s hand tangles in my hair and he grips firmly as if needing the support to keep him grounded. I dip lower and lower, taking my time, giving every inch of him every ounce of my attention. “I’m going to—” he says, trying to pull me off of him. I appreciate the respectful offer, but I hold still, taking the quick relief down the back of my throat. “Oh, Jesus.” He’s nearly hyperventilating, as he continues yanking at my hair and tugging at the sheets with his other hand. “Holy shit.”
I climb up his body and fall lazily on top of him, hoping I gave him exactly what he gave me. “Sorry for making you sleep in the hallway,” I tell him.
“It was so damn worth it, Journey. Shit. I’d sleep there every night to relive this again.”
