As Tears Go By

by Lydia Michaels

  If said man didn’t run for the hills, she’d give him the book that got her through the first five years of Hunter’s life. If he didn’t read it, he didn’t have what it would take. If he did, they’d discuss his theories and concerns. She’d share her strategies and theories and once they’d deliberated enough and she felt the man had a grasp of what to expect and an understanding of how she might parent in a pinch, she’d let him meet her son. If that went well, they’d breach the more intimate areas of dating.

  Problem was, that was all a fantasy, and a draining one at that. Nothing about her plan was remotely sexy like new relationships probably should be.

  She assumed it would never happen so she must have tucked that plan away with the ones labeled, plan to tour Europe, plan to bring roses to your child’s recital, or plan for rambunctious sleepovers with a rowdy houseful of your son’s friends. She had lots of plans that would likely never come to fruition. So she was utterly unprepared for this one to take shape. Adding to her unpreparedness was the fact that they’d already slept together, which landed them in uncharted territory.

  Braydon followed her inside the house. Self-consciously, she scanned the mess. Balls were everywhere. The sink was full of dishes from breakfast. Hunter’s shoes spilled out of a basket in the hall. The wall had chipped plaster from where there had been an episode last year. Labels and PECS—a common picture exchange communication system—were everywhere.

  Her breathing picked up as she worried this was a mistake. “I’m sorry for the mess.”

  Braydon removed his jacket and hung it on the hooks on the wall. Approaching slowly, he took hers from her shoulders, surprising her and sending shivers down her arms. Kevin never did things like that.

  He grinned. “Don’t apologize. Does the mess bother you?”

  She laughed nervously. “I’m used to it.”

  “Would you feel better if I helped you tidy up?”

  What? Who was this man? “That’s okay.” How mortifying. The condition of her house was a result of her busy schedule. She wasn’t a typically sloppy person. Maybe it bothered him. “Unless it bothers you.”

  “It doesn’t, but you seem self-conscious. I promise I don’t mind either way. If you’d like me to help you put away a few things so you can relax, I will. If you just want to ignore it, that’s fine too.”

  Oh, my God. His acceptance managed to expose her in some intangible way. It was comforting that he genuinely didn’t seem to care, but on the other hand it embarrassed her. She couldn’t leave the house like this.

  “Why don’t you watch some TV for a bit? I need to change out of my work clothes anyway. Give me a second to do that and at least put a few things together, then we can talk about ordering dinner or something and I’ll be less distracted.”

  He studied her for a moment. “Okay.”

  She led him to the living room and quickly fixed the pillows tossed all over the floor. Grabbing the remote from the basket on the mantle, she turned and handed it to him. “You sit. Twenty minutes tops. The code for the premium channels is 0626.”

  “No worries, angel. Go do what you need to do.”

  “Right.”

  She rushed up the steps and quickly stripped. When she pulled open her drawer of house clothes she frowned. Nothing she owned was cute. Darn it!

  Settling on a pair of black yoga pants and a fitted plain white T-shirt, she changed and headed to the bathroom. She smelled fine, but threw on some extra deodorant anyway. After she brushed her teeth, she pulled up her hair and scowled at her reflection. Crap. Not good.

  Reaching into her shirt, she hoisted up her breasts and tightened the straps of her bra. That was better. Adding a dab of perfume to her pulse points she looked at her watch. Crap.

  Running through the second floor, she scooped up dirty clothes, shoes, toys, and anything else in her path. Stuffing the clothes in the bathroom hamper, she shoved them down and shut the lid. Whisking the shower curtain closed, she grabbed a wipe from the cabinet and quickly scrubbed away all the toothpaste marks in the sink.

  She was sweating and grateful she’d added extra deodorant by the time she headed downstairs. Music was playing. It was Stand by R.E.M. and it was loud. Her steps slowed as she reached the landing.

  All the balls were back in their baskets. The shoes were tidied. She whipped around the corner and looked at the empty couch. Where was Braydon?

  R.E.M.’s bouncy sound pumped from the television as she hastily searched for him. When she reached the kitchen she skidded to a stop, her jaw nearly hitting the floor.

  Braydon stacked dishes on a towel draped over the counter as he bopped his head to the beat. The counters sparkled and miscellaneous things had been piled on the table.

  The song stopped and he shut off the water, dishes done. When he turned and saw her he stilled, a guilty smirk on his face. “I swear it wasn’t because it was bothering me. I just wanted you to myself and figured I could have you there sooner if everything was done.”

  Her chest lifted as she breathed. She’d never wanted to run at a person so much in her life. She wanted to throw herself at him, tackle him to the floor, and maul him with kisses, until they were rolling through the kitchen, naked…and other stuff.

  “Are you mad?” he asked.

  The music coming from the television started up again. She immediately recognized the song as No Rain, by Blind Melon and had visions of a little girl dressed as a bumblebee dancing around. It was one of those strange, upbeat, one hit wonders she’d loved from her youth, but forgotten about. It made her smile. No, he made her smile.

  Braydon slowly stepped closer and took her hand. Holding her by the fingers, he tugged until her chest bumped his. “You have a lovely smile, Becca.”

  Blinking up at him, she searched for words. He sucked in his lower lip and smirked, his shoulders dipped slowly from side to side and he started to dance. The hand at her hip nudged her to move with him.

  She laughed, unnerved by his nearness. She hadn’t danced with anyone in ages. As the guitar beat picked up his teeth flashed in a brilliant grin. Lifting her fingers high over her head, he pushed her hip, twirling her across the floor. As she spun, she giggled—then of course snorted. He pulled her close and cupped his palm with hers and they danced, right there in the kitchen, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

  When the song ended Braydon didn’t let her go. Their steps slowed as the raspy vocals of 4 Non Blonds sang What’s Up? Braydon’s cheek pressed to her ear as he hummed with the chorus.

  Her eyes focused on the slowly revolving objects of her kitchen and she had a moment of certainty. He was really there. Why did she fear letting the happiness sink in? His presence slowly penetrated the guard she’d tried so hard to build around her heart.

  The lyrics of the song filled her mind. She connected with them, all of them, crying in bed to get out all the things in her head, wanting to scream from the top of her lungs, continuously trying to get up that great big hill of hope… It was all her and—maybe, just maybe—he understood.

  Stepping back, he met her eyes. His fingers trailed from her ear to her lips and his lashes lowered. As he pulled close she caught her breath, but nothing prepared her for the way his lips pressed gently against hers.

  The chorus kicked up as the lead singer bellowed. Becca’s arms wreathed around his neck and she was scooped off her feet. He carried her up the steps, never taking his lips from hers.

  She had no idea how he managed, but he found her room and lowered her to the bed, his body blanketing hers. The kiss deepened and she ran her fingers through his wavy gold curls, arching into him. She denied wanting him for so long, but now the truth was upon them and she surrendered to all the feelings this man provoked inside of her—as scary as that was.

  He didn’t rush things. He kissed her for days. It was the most enjoyable kiss she’d ever been given. Lost in every draw of breath, every swipe of his talented tongue, her body became so relaxed she couldn’t conjure a sin
gle thought beyond wanting him.

  Her fingers plucked at the buttons of his shirt, her hands tugging at his tie. Braydon sat up and loosened the knot, yanking it over his head and tossing it away so he could kiss her some more.

  The touch of his warm palm to her belly startled her, but as he slowly dragged his hand upward her body came alive. Arching into his touch, his palm curled around her breast, his thumb dragging over the tight tip pressing into the lace.

  She reached down and hauled up her shirt, breaking the kiss for only a second as she tossed the shirt away. Braydon yanked down the cups of her bra and when his mouth fastened to her needy flesh she cried out.

  His tongue curled around her nipple as his lips held her flesh in place. Becca’s ponytail had come loose, strands of hair stroking her shoulders, as she moaned and writhed over the covers. Her hands yanked at the last button of his shirt, and once she had it spread wide she became a woman on a mission.

  Her legs twisted around his hips, flipping him onto his back and straddling him. He laughed and she grinned, recalling his penchant for letting women take control. Although the idea didn’t originally appeal, it was fun to try.

  Slowly lowering her mouth to his beautiful chest, she licked his nipple. There had been so much she fantasized about over the passing weeks, no matter how much she tried not to. Never had she imagined actually getting the chance to make those fantasies a reality.

  Her hands mapped his body, traced every bulge of muscle, as her hips slowly rocked. Braydon rested his hands at her thighs, flexing his body beneath hers. She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, sliding it from her arms and throwing it across the room.

  Perhaps the greatest turn on was the empathetic earnestness he’d surprised her with tonight. His sweetness and consideration softened her inhibitions in ways she never expected.

  His head lifted and he captured her nipple in his mouth. She trembled and moaned as he suckled her flesh, her fingers sliding through his wavy hair. His hand glided to the apex of her thighs and he massaged through her pants. Oh God. She was drenched and going to come at any second. Shades of their first night together.

  He groaned as he pulled her other nipple into his mouth, those devious fingers rubbing in exactly the right spot. Her knees tightened around him. “Oh God!”

  “That’s it, angel. Let me give you what you need. Let me make you feel good.”

  His thumb concentrated on a sensitive nerve and her body splintered into a million pieces. He sucked her nipple hard as she came right in her panties. When her eyes opened he was watching her, hooded eyes, dark with lust, intent on her every reaction.

  Her desire turned wild. “I want you.”

  “Tell me how you want it,” he whispered, voice gravelly and deep.

  “How do you—”

  “No. I want to know what you like. Tell me. Let me please you, sweet Becca.”

  Yes, this must be what it was like for him and Miranda. It was amazing to see a man as commanding as Braydon McCullough flip a switch like that. And all the more fascinating, was that his desire to please didn’t diminish his appeal in the least.

  She bit her lip. No one ever asked what she wanted. She and Kevin had survived the dullest sex life of all time. She didn’t know any fancy moves or neat tricks, but she surely wasn’t wasting such an opportunity.

  She slid off of him. She could try being the boss, though she wasn’t sure she’d want the position long-term. Deep down, she knew the greater appeal was to have a kind and assertive man, something Braydon definitely was. “Take off your pants.”

  As Braydon removed his slacks she slid out of hers. Crap. “I don’t have a condom.”

  “In my wallet.”

  She shyly scooped up his pants and handed them to him. He removed his wallet and pried loose the condom. Handing it to her, he said, “Put it on me.”

  She’d never done that either. Carefully, she tore the foil and climbed back on top of him. Her fingers tingled as she lined the circle up with the top of his erection. He lifted his hips upward and she slowly slid the latex over him.

  Meeting his gaze, she flashed an accomplished smile. “I never did that before.”

  “We can do lots of things you never tried before.”

  What a foreign concept. She’d become so used to simply riding the waves in the wake of her life she’d stopped thinking about her personal desires. “I want you inside of me. Like this.”

  Braydon reached for her hands, curling his fingers around hers, as she shifted and lifted her body over his. He released her hands and caught her by the hips. “Put me inside of you.”

  Reaching between their bodies, her fingers coiled around his thick length and guided him to her folds. Lowering herself carefully, she trembled as her body stretched and he filled her. Her eyes rolled back in pleasure once she seated herself. Braydon groaned and his fingers flexed, digging into her hips.

  Her mind short-circuited for a few seconds as her shoulders shook, rolling into a full body shiver. Having him inside of her was incredible. She wanted to simply savor him there for a moment before she started to move.

  Her hands shifted to his shoulders as she leaned over him. Her hips lifted and slid down with excruciating slowness.

  “Does it feel good, angel?”

  Her eyes flashed open. “Mmmm. It feels incredible.”

  His hands slowly slid lower, cupping her rear. Blood rushed to her face. No one ever held her so intimately. “Rub your clit on me, Becca, each time you come down, drag yourself over my body.”

  She lifted and as she pulled back she felt incredible friction at the top of her sex. “Oh, my God.”

  His hands squeezed her behind. “That’s it. Do it again.”

  She did and each time a jolt of pleasure shot to her core. Her eyes fell shut, but she continued to peek through her lashes. Braydon’s half-mast gaze was trained on her. It was unnerving, but the more she got used to it, it empowered her.

  “Do you always give the woman control?” she whispered as she slowly rode him.

  His lashes lifted and the side of his mouth quirked. “I never used to, but then I learned how sexy it can be, watching a woman take what she wants. I want you to challenge me, Becca. Use me for everything your body needs. I won’t break.”

  Her fingers dragged over his shoulders. “I’m not really sure I know how to do that.”

  “It’s simple. If you want me to eat your pussy, you say, Braydon, I need your mouth on me now.”

  Her eyes widened as she drew in a deep breath through her nose. She couldn’t possibly say anything like that. Images of Braydon’s soft blond hair between her legs filled her mind. She was on sensory overload.

  “Would you like me to make you come, angel?”

  She stilled. “What?”

  “Would you like me to make you come? I could, in a matter of seconds. Or we could let it build slowly and when you say the word, I’ll bring you to the sweetest release you’ve ever experienced in your life.”

  Being that she’d only ever had orgasms with him, she didn’t find his statement hard to believe. Even at her own hand she was never quite able to reach that point of surrender when the mind disconnected from the body long enough to taste total bliss.

  His hand left her ass and traveled up her forearm and around her bicep. His palm smoothed over her skin chasing decadent chills over her flesh. Oh, to be touched, she loved it. Fingers traced up the column of her throat and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Like a cat, she pressed into his caress.

  “Tell me what you need,” he whispered.

  “I want…to be held. Tight.”

  His hand slipped to the back of her neck and pulled her down until her mouth met his. He rolled her to her back, wrapped his arms under her waist, and thrust into her. Somehow he withdrew almost completely without ever breaking the press of his hard stomach to hers.

  His right arm banded around her middle, lifting her with each stroke, while his other hand caressed her thigh. He
dragged his touch up her side, over the inside of her arm, petting back down to her breast. No one had ever been so close to her.

  His mouth kissed her jaw and he nudged her chin with his nose. She tilted, allowing him access to her throat, where his breath beat against her pulse. His arms slid beneath her, lifting her, and traveled up between her shoulder blades. Then he was hugging her, holding her, satisfying her, and she never wanted to be let go.

  “Jesus, Becca. Being inside you is incredible. I never want to leave.”

  “You feel incredible too. It’s never been like this, never this good.” He rotated his hips and touched on something amazing inside of her and she gasped.

  “Do you like that?”

  Breathing fast she said, “Oh, yes. That’s—” He did it again and she moaned. “Braydon!” Again and again, he continued to rub himself deep at that same spot. Her cries carried and collided as the deep pressure built and suddenly shattered.

  Her limbs quivered as her body tightened. Her heartbeat reverberated down to her toes. She could feel her pulse everywhere, including where her sex gripped him.

  “Mmmm,” Braydon moaned, pressing his face into her shoulder. “Did you like that?”

  Words danced around in her mind, not a single one of them making sense. Her eyes remained closed as she came back down to earth. His mouth found hers and placed sweet kisses there.

  “What about you?” she finally asked, between staggered breaths.

  “Not until I’m sure you’re satisfied, angel.”

  “Oh… I think I passed satisfied an hour ago. Please, Braydon…”

  He met her gaze and pulled back only to thrust into her hard. By the second thrust he was coming, his cock pulsing deep inside of her. His face was a work of art. His jaw locked, every tendon in his neck taut as his lashes lowered.

  His forehead lowered to rest over her breast as he panted. Eventually, he mumbled, “I’m not getting up until you give me your word you won’t move a muscle. I want you here when I get back.”