I woketo a warm wall of muscle behind me, and a heavy weight across my hip. I know not everyone is into weighted blankets, but I’m one of those girlies who sleeps with forty-five pillows because I like to have a few piled on top of me—not as heavy as a weighted blanket, and I can still kick my way out of them if an emergency pee situation arises, but it was calming to be pressed into the mattress.
That’s what I felt like right now, staring into the dim light from the moon outside the window. It had to be the middle of the night—I didn’t want to reach for my phone to confirm—and I thought Brakkor was still asleep.
After all, he’d more or less said he wouldn’t touch me without my permission, and here he was cuddling me.
It was kinda flattering to think that, despite his best efforts, he hadn’t been able to resist cuddling.
Besides, I’d told him I wasn’t averse to messing around.No sexI’d told him…but at that moment, wrapped in his hold, I couldn’t remember why.
I remembered the way my core had throbbed at the sound of his low growl, and how his skin had felt under my lips when I’d stretched up to kiss him. I’d kissed him like that the first night, in the hotel bar, and he’d shown me how toreallykiss.
Lying there in the bed, pinned by his arm, I realized I wanted another kiss like that. I wanted him totouch me. I wanted that pleasure againso fucking badly.
It was like we’d gone about everything backwards. We’d had sex—great sex, amazing sex!—before we knew much about each other. Before I understood how blunt he could be, or how sweet he was with his nephew. Before I saw him scowling at his brother’s wedding or trying to fix my car or cooking me spaghetti.
If there’s one thing a gal likes, it’s a man who’ll cook for her.
Butnoodlesweren’t the reason my breathing had gone all shallow, or why liquid heat was pooling between my thighs. Nope,thatwas because I was remembering how his hands felt on my breasts, and realizing that if I arched my back likethis, I could press my ass against his crotch.
When I felt the thickness curving against me, I stifled my moan.
Brakkor’s cock was hard, lying against the small of my back. He wasn’t awake, was he? I gave an experimental wiggle of my ass—Experimental Wigglewould be a cool band name, wouldn’t it?—and when I shifted my thighs, my pussy was slick with need.
His hand dangled near my stomach. I could scootch down a little and it would brush against the bottom of my boob. I wondered if I could lift his fingers to rest on my breast, or would that wake him?
Gently, slowly, I wriggled my way just a bit lower, until his forearm fell against my waist, my shirt riding up in the back when it caught on his cock. God, just knowing that thing was back there, trapped in whatever he was wearing—boxers? Pajama pants?—made my mouth water.
I’d told himno sex, but I was reconsidering.
Yeah, he’d reneged on hisonly one nightpolicy, and yeah, I remembered how much it had hurt when Chad changed his mind yet again, but at that moment, I didn’t care. I wanted Brakkor enough that I was willing to risk being hurt again.
So I slowly shifted until I could twine my fingers through his and move his hand upward…toward where my nipple ached beneath my favorite set of PJs.
Suddenly, his breath burst out of his lips, as if he’d been holding it. “Joss, I hope to fuck you’re awake,” he rasped.
My response was a moan—half embarrassment, half permission.
“Can I touch you?” His whisper was harsh against the crown of my head. “Please?”
Thatpleasealmost broke me, especially since I was the one so desperate for that touch. In response, I cupped his hand around my breast and squeezed. It was silly—his hand was twice the size of mine, it wasn’t like I could guide him or anything. But it worked.
He groaned as he took over, fondling and caressing through the worn cotton of my PJs.
Perhaps it was the darkness, or the fact we’d both been asleep. But this encounter had none of the desperation of that hotel room; it was like we were learning each other for the first time. We moved slowly…deliberately.
Time seemed to stand still there in the dim light of the moon. His caresses turned into fondles, to squeezes, to tugs, as I moaned and arched into his hold, moving so slowly that our breathing synced.
Eventually I twisted in his hold so I could roll over and throw my leg over his hip and claim his lips in mine. The kiss was just as gentle, just as exploratory, as the caressing had been, and his hands weren’t idle; he made me shiver as his fingertips dragged up my spine beneath my shirt.
It was like we were teenagers, happy to kiss and fondle and?—
I sucked in a breath when his lips moved down my throat. “Can I touch you beneath your clothes, Kitten?” he murmured against my skin. “I’ll make you feel so good.”
I knew he would. “Please,” I agreed, already tugging down the waistline of my sleeping shorts.
Then his fingers were there, sliding along my slick folds. I’d expected it to feel good, but Ihadn’texpected theshock of electricity that seemed to be wired from my nipples to my clit to my lips, and I jolted as I gasped loudly. My fingertips dug into his bicep, trying to hold myself in place. Or perhaps trying to keep him exactly where he was.
“That’s it,dkaar,” he murmured against my hair, stroking me. His thumb brushed against my clitoris. “Let me love you. Let me make you feel good.”
