by Unknown
“Do you honestly think I would have forgotten?” I asked him. “But how? How could that have set you free?”
His green eyes stared, locked on the calender. “Thinking about it, it reminded me of what I'd lost. Fiona, it gave me the strength to finally break away... and to come find what I'd been forced to stay away from for far too long.” Reaching out, he gripped my wrist. Easily, I fell into his lap on the couch. Even easier, I let his lips—the only lips I'd ever desired—brush against my own.
The calender, forgotten, fluttered to the floor. The words I'd written glowed in the light.
'Anniversary of Our First Kiss.'
Chapter 7
Though we both wanted the other, wanted to kiss and touch and feel the pulsing heat of our bodies... it had been two years. Such a long time since we'd once sat by the river, tasted the shy exploration of our bodies.
In our haste, there was also hesitance.
My breathing was rapid, lashes fluttering as I fought to meet the intensity of his emerald gaze. Sitting in his lap, cradled against his firm chest, his heart vibrated like a song. “Are you alright?” I whispered, wondering why he was... was that a scowl? Did I do something wrong?
“Yeah, I'm fine,” he mumbled. It didn't convince me, not at all.
Fighting to find my confidence, I placed my palms on his shoulders. Shifting awkwardly, I made myself straddle him. Instantly, he grit his teeth, eyes squeezing shut. I'm definitely doing something wrong. “Brandon, what is it?” A million awful ideas rumbled through my mind. It was too easy to imagine how I was messing up.
I'd longed to hold this man again, I'd sought out dark dreams just to keep his memory fresh. Now, I wanted so badly to enact the warm, exciting acts I'd only read about.
And, maybe, that was the problem. If he senses how nervous I am, how inexperienced, maybe I'm letting him down.
His fingers found my cheeks, keeping me steady. Imploringly, he stared into my face. “It's nothing. Not really. I just—I haven't been so close to anyone, not since you. I'm worried I might mess up, and I'm scared I'll lose...” Glancing away, his expression melted to frustration. “I'm terrified I'll lose control, that I could hurt you.”
He's scared he'll hurt me? Please. My giggle was nervous, it made him release me. “Brandon, it's alright. This is my first time at this, too.”
“Really?” His disbelief was offensive.
Looking away, my lips pursed. “I was waiting for you, Brandon. Maybe it's weird, or naïve, but I just couldn't let you go.”
Brandon was silent. My armor, built from dignity, cracked. Deflating, I gazed back at him. The flash of his teeth, white as bone, sent a spark to my core. “You really held out for me, after all this time?”
I folded my arms. “I blame teenage delusion,” I muttered, quoting him.
Chuckling, his hands found my jaw again. That time, they led me down for a gentle, exploring kiss. What we'd experienced at sixteen, it paled in comparison to the confident desire building between us.
This is really happening, I thought in wonderment. I'm kissing Brandon Beck.
His jaw was rough with stubble, unlike the smooth skin I remembered. It was rugged, making me tingle where he rubbed against me. Hard teeth contrasted soft flesh. The first time he nipped me, tugging my lower lip, I gasped.
“Was that too much?” he asked, husky in spite of his concern.
“No.” I was worried he'd stop. “It's just been forever since we—we never—not like this, I mean...” My words trailed off, caught up in another tangle of his seeking tongue. Powerful arms coiled around my waist, finger tips dragging down my lower back. I'd been sitting on him, hovering over his lap a scant inch. That distance was removed, his strength crushing my hips down onto him.
I felt his need, the firm warmth bumping against me. I wanted it badly, even while frightened by its taboo nature.
“God,” he hissed, breaking the kiss. His breath seared against my throat, then my ear. “Fiona, you're killing me here. I'm not sure I can hold back if we keep going.”
He's giving me an out. He's actually scared he might... what did he say? Hurt me?
My body was all goosebumps and tense muscles. After waiting so long, there was no way I was about to turn him down. Closing my eyes, I slid down until I tasted the slick crook of his throat. So near to his Adam's apple, his sudden growl shook me to my bones. It wasn't an angry sound, just hungry.
“That's it, then?” he murmured, groaning as I nuzzled my way to his chest. “You're not even a little worried I might get too into it? Fiona, I'm incredibly strong, I don't—”
“Shut up already,” I said, giving him a wry smile.
Brandon opened his mouth, then obliged me.
Sitting back, I stared over his body with curious eyes. He was amazing, all gleaming muscle and tan flesh. The knife wound was gone completely. Balanced above him, I bent away to get a better view. “You look really good,” I said, wishing I was more of a poet.
Grinning, Brandon moved his hands over my hips. “So do you.”
“No,” I argued, skin pink all over. “Not like you. You look like a Greek statue.”
Arching his eyebrows, he hooked his fingers into the bottom of my shirt. “Fiona, trust me. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”
On reflex, I reached down to stop him. Brandon paused, peering into my uncertain eyes with calm collection. His intense stare, it stirred something deep inside of me.
My hands fell away.
Without waiting, he pulled the cloth over my head. My ponytail swung with the motion, tickling my neck. No one had seen me like that, but if anyone was going to, I was glad it was Brandon.
Throwing the shirt away, he inhaled deeply. “You're wonderful, believe me. And... dammit, you smell fantastic.”
That surprised me, he was leaning at least a foot away. How could he smell anything? But the look on his face, especially as he breathed in sharply, was foggy with delight. I opened my mouth, trying to find something to say.
It didn't matter.
Caught up in something I didn't understand, not fully, Brandon wrapped his arms around me. I'd seen how easily he'd thrown Mark, how he'd taken down the thugs. Now, on the receiving end of his strength, I felt a shiver.
He flipped me so quickly it left me dizzy. Stretched out, still catching my breath, Brandon climbed on top of me. “Brandon, what—”
His decadent lips stole the air from my lungs. Weighing me down, he crushed me into the cushions eagerly. His sudden need turned my brain into wet oatmeal.
It was as if something inside of him had come to life. A wicked, dark thing.
A beast.
The green eyes that stared down at me, they didn't recognize my face. They were wavering with a turmoil of heightened lust. In that moment, I felt afraid for myself. Brandon gripped my bra, snapping the pink fabric in two. Chucking it aside, it hit the far wall of my kitchen.
Bared to him so suddenly, I went stiff. This is too much! He's out of control! “Brandon,” I rasped, my voice tiny in my ears. His heavy snorts smothered the sound. “Brandon! Wait, slow down. Hey!”
His chest rubbed against mine, sending fire to my loins. I was conflicted between my nerves, my desire. I'd wanted Brandon so badly, and here he was. He was mine, and more than willing to show it.
But I didn't want it to be like this, not with him not even seeing me.
As he lowered his head, aiming to do... who knew what, I grabbed his jaw. “Brandon! Stop, you're going to hurt me!” Like I'd slapped him, stunned clarity appeared on his face. I watched his cheeks tinge pink, saw him sit up over me, looking around.
“Fiona, I—I'm sorry, I don't know what...” Rubbing his neck, his shame came off in waves.
He was still positioned over my hips on the couch. Pushing up on my elbows, I grabbed him around the middle. Easily, he fell on top of me, not resisting my firm embrace. Entwined there, lying on the cushions, I pressed my forehead to his. “Calm down, it's alright. You just got
excited.”
“No,” he argued, pain tight in his voice. He didn't pull away, I noticed happily. “It was more than that. For a while there, I just... I forgot who I even was.”
Forgot who he was? A flicker of worry bloomed. I'd let myself forget, too. All too quickly, the history of Brandon's two years of forced exile came back. I'd wanted so very much to erase it, to act like we were sixteen again. Pretend nothing had happened.
I'm such a fool.
“Brandon, I'm sorry,” I said softly. He leaned back, just enough to stare into my watering eyes. “Maybe I wanted this too fast.”
His confusion was plain, worse than his anger. “You don't want to do this?”
“No! No, that's not what I mean. It's just that... you only just returned. Right? It must be strange for you, being here.”
“Strange.” He considered the word, frowning. “A little. I haven't been inside an apartment as a visitor in forever. Hector let us sneak into towns sometimes, to steal things like clothes and stuff. It's actually how I learned you were still alive.”
My fingers stroked along his back, feeling his thick muscles. “You saw that bit on the news, then.”
“Yeah,” he admitted. My blush was gentle, recalling that awful interview. “I wanted to come back and find you, the instant I learned. It was the same day I confirmed my parents were—listen. I always thought, if I had gotten away that day, things might have been different.”
“Nothing between us has changed,” I said, defiant.
His smile eased me, his kiss on my nose making me smile. “Not between us, exactly. But two years of running around in forests, hiding from humans, sneaking in plain sight just to slip off with basic needs... Hector didn't like people. He didn't want me, or him, around them if it could be helped. Two years of living like that, being what I am... it changes a person, Fiona.”
If I'd denied his words, I'd have been a liar. It was clear to both of us that Brandon was different. Taking a breath, I traced the shape of his forearms where they rested on either side of me. “You have changed.” His flinch made my belly ripple. “But Brandon, so have I. That flood changed both our lives, just in different ways.”
Tilting his head, he studied me with interest. “How did it change you?”
Meeting his gaze was hard, who enjoyed admitting their fears? “Do you know why I came to this place, this college in Arizona? Why I picked 'business' as my career path?”
Wrinkling his nose, Brandon waited for me to continue.
“After what happened to our town, to my parents... I couldn't handle the rain anymore. Water terrifies me, Brandon. Water. I can't go into rivers, lakes. Not even oceans. The sound of a storm makes me want to vomit.”
Gently, he lifted a hand to wipe away the tears I hadn't even felt falling. “I'm so sorry, Fiona. Why the business school thing, though?”
“Because it's safe,” I grumbled. Ashamed of my emotions, I rubbed at my eyes quickly. “I used to want to go on adventures, to explore the world. But I wanted to do those things with you, Brandon. Losing you changed my life... it made me timid, it made me cynical.” My chuckle was acidic. “Like I said, we're both different now.”
Astoundingly, he grinned. “It isn't a competition, Fiona. But fine. Being scared of water is worse than becoming a horrific wolf-monster.”
Unable to help myself, I laughed. The sound exploded, contagious, until we were both wrapped up on the couch in fits of giggles. It felt good. The tension vanished with the last hiccups of our humor, our eyes sparkling when they met.
That time, when we kissed, I knew he was seeing me.
Suddenly conscious of my naked torso—and his—I bit my lower lip. “Um, maybe I should go find something to wear.” Guess I'm replacing that bra.
Brandon looked down at me, his grin devilish. “I like you like this.”
“I'm naked,” I scoffed.
He gave a simple shrug, beaming wider.
“Tsk.” Looking away, I tried to wriggle out from under him. He lowered down, kissing the exposed side of my shoulder where I was twisting. Then, encouraged by my small gasp, he slid to my ribs. “Brandon, hold on,” I said weakly.
His mouth was hot wherever it roamed. “I promise, I'll be gentle this time. Does that feel nice?”
“It does,” I admitted. Relaxing into the couch, I turned sideways until he could kiss my lower back. That sensitive patch of skin, committed to his curious touching, made me prickle. Holy cripes, that's fantastic! He sensed I liked it, or perhaps it was instinct. Holding my waist, he rolled me over onto my stomach.
Tracing the top of my jeans, his fingers slid under me. Finding my zipper, he tugged until he released the clasp. To my credit, I didn't squeak. The sound of my beating heart would have muffled any noises I made.
Down my pants went, revealing the plain black panties I'd worn. Now, I wish I'd been in the habit of buying sexier stuff. Glancing back at him, I saw the fog in his eyes. He was staring down at my body, slowly gliding his palms down my hamstrings. As he did so, he pulled the jeans to my ankles. They, too, joined the discarded clothing club.
Running a finger tip over my calf, he created tight goosebumps. I inhaled sharply, drawing his attention. Seeing the red flush on my neck, my face, he grinned. “You're really amazing, Fiona.”
“Am I?”
Nodding, Brandon explored the indents on the bottoms of my feet. It tickled, but when I jerked in surprise, he just held my ankles tight. “You're so perfect, I can't believe you managed to wait for me. How many boys did you resist?”
“I didn't have to resist anyone... I didn't want anyone else.” Staring at him seriously, I noticed his smile fall. “Brandon, I was always just waiting for you. You're the only one I ever wanted.”
“You'd have given up a future with anyone else, just because of your hope for a dead guy?”
Shaking my head, my partially undone ponytail bounced. “Part of me must have known. Somewhere inside, I just... I knew you would come back to me.”
He was on me, seeking my lips with a desperate thirst. His jeans rubbed against my thighs, rough on my sensitive skin. I didn't mind. Caught up in a rush of light-headed delight, I shut my eyes. The sound I made, the moment he reached under to cup my breasts, was decidedly unlady-like.
Everything he did was setting me aflame. Sweat rolled down the middle of my back, friction from where his chest crushed into my shoulder blades. Still wearing his pants, he ground against my backside. The thrill that rocked me, it went low in my belly.
His hands left me, making me whine. I understood his reasoning soon, the metallic crunch of his zipper in my ears. He'd given me a glimpse of his briefs earlier, when he'd meant to just show me the ugly scars from Hector. Knowing his intentions this time, it created a thumping pressure in my chest.
Shyly, I looked over my shoulder. As if to oblige me, Brandon sat back, kneeling over my calves. I got my first look at him.
At all of him.
The shape of his obliques, the hard lines of muscles that moved all the way down to the patch of dark hair between his thighs; all of it kept my attention. Brandon was beautiful—no, sexy—and he wanted me. After all this time, I was still the person he wanted.
He looked into my eyes, his grin too crooked for me to keep my composure. Turning away, I buried my forehead into the arm of the couch. Behind me, I felt him slide my panties down. Cool air tickled me, before the pure lust of his flesh warmed over my lower back.
Gently, he pressed down on me. His voice in my ear was thick, like honey pouring over milk. “I'll go slow, okay?”
“Yeah,” I croaked, reaching out to grab his forearm as it circled in front of me.
He kissed my temple, and that was the last instant of his sweetness. Reaching between us with his free hand, Brandon aimed himself at my virgin folds. I knew it would hurt, that's what I'd been told growing up. First times, they'll always bring pain.
Perhaps I was too excited, or maybe people had exaggerated. All I knew for sure, was t
hat when Brandon Beck pushed himself inside of me, I just remembered the noise I made. I didn't recall anything else.
If it had hurt, I was oblivious.
Panting, I wiggled beneath his weight. True to his word, he was slow... at first. I couldn't blame him when he started thrusting more desperately, I was just as eager. But Brandon was on top, he had control of me entirely. Trying to meet him, to keep up, was futile.
Brandon wanted me on his own terms. If I had any doubt he'd desired me as much as I had him over the past two years... it vanished.
My cheek rubbed on the couch, fingernails digging into his arm. It was my life preserver in the flood that was Brandon Beck. He overtook me, ate me up with a consumption that seemed impossible to quench.
Did he lose control of himself again? The idea was frightening, yet my own hot passion made it impossible to halt him. I didn't want him to stop, I didn't care if he had lost himself in the process of making love to me for the first time.
I just want him, I want Brandon. I don't care what that entails.
I don't care what he's become.
Groaning wantonly, the boiling inside of me reached an abrupt peak. I was sure, wherever Angel was, she was terrified of us both.
Brandon held me close, squeezing me with such force I coughed. He was filling me, outside and in. Everything I lived was wet, luscious, and decadent.
With a final growl, he slammed into me one more time. I had a brief worry, thinking about how I hadn't insisted he wear a condom. Then I was lost, wandering in a world of pure pleasure with my tingling release.
I'd closed my eyelids. I didn't realize until he turned me towards him for a kiss.
Lashes danced over my cheeks before I stared into his deep green eyes. “Hey,” I said stupidly.
“Hey.” Chuckling, he pulled the elastic from my messy hair. My ponytail, what had been left of it, fell around my shoulders. “Are you okay?”
Nodding, I rested my forehead on his chin. I could feel his pulse, never wanting to lose it. “I'm great, actually. That was... Brandon, please tell me this means as much to you as it does to me.”