Seducing Bran

by Jules Barnard

  Dammit. He knew. She’d been hiding behind the counter when Bran walked in with Jaeg after the booze cruise disaster. But things had changed since then. He’d shown her a softer side of himself. Bran wasn’t the stony guy he’d originally projected.

  She sent him a serious look. “I’m not hiding now.”

  “No. And I’m trying not to either.” He stretched his neck. “I’m sorry. About the things I said on the boat and other times. The way I treated you in the beginning… I tend to be cautious, and sometimes it comes out unkind.”

  She studied his face. “Only with women, though.” It was a statement, because she’d had plenty of time to observe this guy. She’d seen him with his brothers and friends.

  “Sometimes. Mostly because I don’t trust myself,” he admitted.

  She sipped her wine. “It’s been my experience that the fairer sex are more commonly on the receiving end of insensitive men.”

  He set out bruschetta. “That may be true. In my case, I can’t be trusted around women I find beautiful. I lose my head.” He gave her a look that sent heated signals south.

  She swallowed. “And that’s a bad thing?”

  He handed her a red cloth napkin and set one on his lap. “It is when I’m so involved I’m not thinking straight.”

  Ireland munched on the bruschetta, watching him. “From what I’ve gathered, you’re very responsible. I don’t see how dating a woman you’re strongly attracted to would change who you are. You’re in control of your life.”

  “Not always in control.” He allowed his gaze to drop to her lips, reminding her of all the times she’d felt Bran lose control.

  Ireland swallowed. Their embraces had seemed like extreme attraction between two people, and very, very hot. But maybe he didn’t see things the same way? Meanwhile, Ireland had never experienced that kind of lust with anyone. And she wanted more.

  “Do you regret kissing me?” she asked.

  “Hell no. But you deserve a better man than me. I’m afraid…”

  Bran didn’t finish his sentence. He reached for the food basket instead.

  No way was she letting that go. “What are you afraid of?”

  He didn’t answer right away, slowly digging around in the basket. “I don’t want to hurt you. But my job is my life. I can’t let my brothers down.”

  “I wouldn’t want you to. But what do your brothers have to do with me and you?”

  He set a foiled dish on the table and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I went from twenty miles an hour to over sixty after my father died. I’ve never run multiple restaurants, and it’s a major portion of the resort income. I can’t fail.”

  Ireland shook her head, confused. “I’ve chatted with Emily. The resort is hanging in there.”

  “Hanging in there isn’t the same as performing well. With the exception of the month we hosted the Tahoe Invitational for the professional golf tour—which was a lucky break—we’ve been holding on by our fingertips since my father passed.”

  He unfolded the foil dish to reveal the juiciest-looking filet mignon Ireland had ever seen, and it smelled twice as good. “We have the best food and location in town,” Bran said. “If the restaurants fail, no one is to blame but me.”

  Bran put too much pressure on himself. Ireland had access to information through her consulting work at Club Tahoe. She’d seen the efficiency with which Bran ran Prime. He was doing a fantastic job. It was almost as though he expected something to fall out of the sky and ruin everything. “You brought in the new ordering system. It’s going to double your revenue.”

  “I pushed for it. Convinced my brothers we needed it. And now it’s costing us money we’re not earning back.”

  She took a bite of bruschetta and chewed slowly, considering. “For now. I’ll get it running.”

  “That’s not what James says.”

  Ireland abruptly set her bruschetta on the table. “What’s up with that fucker?”

  Bran’s eyebrow quirked.

  Ireland clamped her mouth shut. “Sorry... I don’t like him.”

  “I can tell. If it makes you feel better, I don’t like him either. But he built the software, and I trust he knows what he’s doing.”

  Ireland frowned. “That’s to be determined.”

  “One of you needs to prove capable, or I’ll have to come up with a plan B.”

  “Plan B—meaning get rid of me and bring on someone else?” she said.

  “If I have to. That’s what I meant when I said I have to put the resort and my brothers first.”

  Ireland sipped her wine and studied Bran. “We don’t have to do this. I liked you from the moment we met, but I deserve a guy who’s fully invested.”

  He stopped unpacking food and sent her a hard look. “You do. I want to get to know everything about you, but I feel my control over my life and our relationship slipping where you’re concerned.”

  “So why ask me out?” She gestured vaguely to their surroundings.

  He stared for a moment, then leaned over and kissed her lips tenderly. “Because I like you.”

  And on that sexy, confusing note, they ate their steaks in relative silence. Partly because the food was so damn good. Partly because Ireland didn’t know what to say. And then Bran brought out homemade peach cobbler, and she really had no words, except a few pleasure moans that had Bran staring. But not at the cobbler.

  Heat. Attraction. This was why they were here. On a mattress. Out in the open air. Who could argue with the forces of nature?

  “I can’t move,” Ireland said. “You’re right. Prime has the best food.” She sank against the cushions, her stomach slightly rounded with a food baby. “You know, you might be onto something with this outdoor dining experience. Have you considered a Prime pop-up restaurant?”

  Bran sat back with his arms folded behind his head. “I can’t see Prime food set out at a strip mall.”

  Ireland shifted toward him. “No, I mean a separate outdoor restaurant in the summertime, but on Club Tahoe grounds, with heated lamps and ambiance. Your resort has one of the most beautiful locations in Lake Tahoe, highlighting the lake and surrounding mountains. Why not bring something like Prime outdoors? In the summertime. Winter would be too cold.”

  He rolled to his side and faced her, inches away. He ran his finger down her temple lightly. “What else do you have rolling around in that brilliant mind of yours?”

  Nothing good, she thought, and leaned forward, pressing her lips to his.

  Chapter 18

  Bran’s mouth was still. For all of a nanosecond, and then his lips moved beneath Ireland’s, his arm wrapping around her waist and sliding her closer, sending a thrill up her spine.

  Ireland ran her fingers through his soft hair, controlling the kiss while his hand roamed along her side, around to her ass and down her leg.

  He slowly leaned over her, pressing her into the mattress. “This okay?”

  Dammit, he’d better not break the moment with words. “No talking, remember?”

  “Right, less talking, more hands. Have I mentioned how intelligent you are?”

  That wasn’t always a compliment in the case of past boyfriends. Some men didn’t like women with brains. “Does it make me more or less attractive?”

  “Definitely more,” he said, and leaned up. Apparently to get a better hold, because he grabbed her waist and slid her down until she was flat on her back. “Tell me if my hands go too far.”

  She wiggled her hips. “I’m still waiting for them to do something.”

  A deep rumble came from his chest, and he leaned over her and grabbed her leg, lifting it and fitting his waist between her thighs. “That close enough?”

  She leaned up and kissed his neck, her tongue darting out with a quick swipe. God, he tasted good. “Getting there.”

  The next thing she knew, Bran was kissing her, his tongue caressing and devouring her mouth. His lips slid down her neck, peppering sexy kisses along the way. He pushed her navy cardigan to th
e side and kissed the swells of her breasts, wrapping his lips around one of her nipples through the fabric of her dress.

  “Now, you’re really getting there,” she said, her voice breathy.

  Bran rose, breaking contact, and she almost lost it. Until he reached behind his neck and yanked his long-sleeved Henley over his head.

  Ireland touched the muscles on his chest. “This is more like it. I fully approve.” She ran her hands down his muscular arms. “How do you stay so fit with all that delicious food around?”

  “Gym. Cade metabolism,” he said, as he pushed her cardigan down her arms until she relented and took her hands off his body long enough for him to remove it.

  Of course. Cade men were hot—had to be in the genes.

  He seemed to study her dress, and apparently figured out it zipped in the back, because he had her back arched, and she felt cool evening air on her skin.

  She helped him slide her dress off her shoulders until she wore only her bra and her dress from the waist down.

  At least she thought she wore her bra, but in the moment she’d reached up for a kiss, her bra had been unhooked and tossed to the side.

  She instinctively covered her breasts.

  Bran sent her a look. “Too far?”

  Did he honestly think she’d cave before he did? She’d had the hots for this man for months. Had decided it was an impossible situation once she’d spent real time around him, and now she was naked and in his arms. Well, partially naked.

  Hell to the no she wasn’t caving.

  A flash of Cali shoving a condom in her purse crossed her mind. Ireland had insisted things wouldn’t go that far. How the hell had Cali known? Damn her and her psychic love abilities.

  Ireland dropped her arms. Whatever. Her boobs were big and went with the rest of her curvy figure. She was sensitive about it, but if Bran didn’t care, why should she? She kissed his toned pecs, darting out her tongue—because yum—and slid her hands down the sides of his toned torso. And found herself on her back once more.

  “Clearly, I need to be in control here,” he said. “Someone has to be.”

  Ireland’s mouth parted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He shushed her with a kiss. “No talking, remember?”

  And then he was rubbing her breasts and kissing them. “I love your skin. So soft.” He feathered one of her nipples with his tongue.

  Ignoring the control comment—because this was Bran and stupid shit came out of his mouth from time to time—she ran her hands over his thick shoulders. “You seem to scowl at me and my breasts often. Are you sure you like them?”

  He made a choking sound. “Oh, I like them.” He moved over to the other nipple and gave it the same love he’d unleashed on the first, causing Ireland to squirm and squeeze her legs around his waist.

  “Your jeans are rough,” she said. “You should consider removing them.”

  He lifted his head, his dark blond hair ruffled from her fingers running through it—and okay—pulling on it. “Despite what my brothers claim, I’m not a monk. I remove these jeans, and my control will be severely compromised.”

  She twisted her lips. “I’ll risk it.”

  He frowned at her, as though she’d thrown down the gauntlet this time.

  Which she had.

  Bran sat up and started to unbutton his jeans, and Ireland stopped him with her hands.

  “Change your mind?” he said.

  “Not even close. I want to remove them.”

  Ireland ran her hand down the length of his thick erection through his jeans, and he breathed in tensely. He was long and barely covered by the top of his waistband. Which meant she could rub the head of his cock with her thumb, and boy did that get some deep breathing out of him.

  And got her hot and bothered at the same time.

  Ireland fumbled to get the button on his waistband undone.

  “Need help?”

  “No,” she said firmly, and unzipped his jeans.

  Bran’s waist was trim all the way down, the muscles at his stomach cut and undulating, his hips giving way to indentations on the sides of his firm ass and muscular thighs.

  He was even hotter naked. That was all she needed.

  What if this was a fling? She really, really didn’t care right now, but she might later.

  Though nothing with Bran felt like a fling, not even when he was scowling at her. He was all intense emotion and heat. And tonight felt like he was giving her the best of himself—when his smart mouth wasn’t interrupting the romance.

  Ireland suspected his clipped responses were a part of his defense. Why all the walls, she didn’t know, but at least they came down when they were alone.

  His body was shaking lightly beneath her hands, and she realized she’d been staring and not moving.

  Well, that was gonna change.

  Ireland pulled down his boxer briefs and revealed the rest of him.

  God. Shit.

  If she thought his face and body were handsome, she hadn’t seen one of the best parts. And since when were men’s penises attractive? Never in the history of ever. And yet Bran’s was.

  Long, thick, lightly tanned, except at the tip, where it was darker. Even the thick veins along the length were erotic.

  Like she had with his neck and abs, she leaned forward and licked him.

  A choking sound came from his chest. “Okay,” he said. “That’s enough.”

  Ireland glanced up. “You want to stop?”

  “Not even close.” He slid her dress and panties off her legs in one swift move. “We’re shifting positions, because your pink tongue, red-flamed hair, and beautiful mouth are going to unman me if I let this business go on. I’m not a monk, but it’s been a while, and I’m primed. No pun intended.”

  “Oh you mean, like the restaurant?” she said as she watched him admire her naked body.

  Ireland covered herself there and he looked up. “Ready to stop?”

  “Why do you keep asking me that?” she said.

  “Just reading the body language. When I have you, I want you to want it.”

  “I have wanted you for, like, ever! You’re the one who’s been playing hard to get.”

  “Have I been?” He inched down until his chest was between her legs. Then he dropped his head and licked her. Right down the middle. “Tell me about it.”

  Ireland’s head dipped back, because he licked her again, spreading her lightly with his tongue. Words, there were no words, but moans and other strange sounds were most definitely coming from her. She should have been embarrassed, but she really, really didn’t care.

  He kissed the crease between her leg and her labia, sucking on it. And she shifted to get him back to where his tongue had been.

  A rumbling chuckle came from down below.

  Her head snapped up. “Stop teasing me.”

  Before the words had left her mouth, he was giving her some kind of erotic tongue lashing that had her flailing on the mattress. Son of a bitch.

  His fingers slid up and down the inside of her thighs until they reached her core. He gently slid a finger inside her while his thumb rubbed along her creases, his tongue working its magic on that tight bundle of nerves that was the center of her pleasure.

  He shifted his head, hitting it from a different angle, and then she was exploding.

  Fireworks went off behind her eyes, her back arched, and a wild animal sound came from her throat. At least, that was what she remembered when she returned to her body.

  Bran slid up her, his penis seducing her leg and thigh in a long caress.

  He kissed her neck and then her lips. “You taste good.”

  She shoved his jeans down farther with her hands and then her feet. “No, you taste good. Why do you think I keep licking you?”

  “Because you’re hungry?”

  “Damn straight I’m hungry.” She glanced down where their naked bodies were pressed together. “Are you going to back out?” Ireland couldn’t think of a
moment in her life when she’d wanted a man half as much as she wanted Bran right now, but one never knew with him. Maybe oral was all he wanted?

  He touched her temple and brushed locks of her hair back with his fingers. “I didn’t bring anything. Should have known I couldn’t keep my hands off you.”

  Ireland’s face turned red.

  “What did I say?”

  “Well, you see,” she said, “I might have brought something.”

  He breathed in and rubbed his length against her center. “Did you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Is that a yes or a no?”

  “That’s a yes. Cali thought I might need it.”

  His hips stopped flexing. “No offense to Cali, but I only care about what you want.”

  “I want you. Madly. Like, now.”

  He glanced around and reached for her purse. “In here?”

  She nodded and pulled the condom from the side pocket.

  Bran didn’t look at the brand or the jumbo size—which, as it turned out, was accurate—he simply tore off the wrapping and slid the condom down his length, positioning himself at her entrance.

  He pressed forward, not moving quickly, kissing her cheeks and nose and finally her mouth. And then he was inching inside her, his arms tensed near her head.

  “Fuck, you feel good.” Bran stopped and dropped his forehead near her shoulder. He breathed in a couple of times, nipped at her shoulder, then pumped his hips slowly, setting a pace that hit several new locations his tongue had missed.

  Ireland ran her hands down his back and over his firm ass, pushing him deeper, trying to catch her breath.

  They were naked, fitting together more perfectly than she’d ever imagined, with nothing but the moonlight and trees looking down on them.

  Bran’s mouth found her neck, his fingers delicately pinching her nipple, and then she was crying out again and coming harder than the last orgasm.

  When she was finished making a scene in front of the forest animals, Bran kissed her with so much passion that she couldn’t catch her breath. And then he was coming, thrusting into her, so close and tight that she felt connected in more than the physical sense.