by Jenna Jacob
Brea panted, her breath short and ragged, while a ghostly dark shadow passed over her eyes. He didn’t need to see the tiny frown settling between her brows to know what was coming. Still, he didn’t want to accept being shut down and clenched his jaw.
“I-I can’t do this.” Her words raked his flesh like a caress of broken glass.
Unable to even make it to first base, he couldn’t lift his hands from her body. Studying her red swollen lips and half-lidded and unfocused eyes, he wanted to block the demons of her past and convince her to enjoy the here and now. But the pragmatist inside him knew playtime had come to a screeching halt. A pink hue crawled up her cheeks. The last thing Sawyer wanted was for her to be embarrassed. Flashing her a playful wink and the most dazzling smile he could muster, he brushed one last feathery kiss over her lips.
“I’ll pick you and Ozzie up at seven in the morning. It’s a ranch, so wear something old that you won’t mind getting dirty.”
Or come to the door naked, and I’ll make you twice as dirty right here on the living room floor.
His aching cock screamed in rebellion, but Sawyer couldn’t grant it relief. Not yet. Gripping her round, lush ass, he pulled Brea against his pelvis. Hoping to assuage some of the pain down south, he also didn’t want her ever doubting how much she turned him on.
Brea’s eyes grew wide at the feel of his erection, and a disgruntled moan seeped from her throat. “I’m sorry. It’s just…”
Placing a warm finger to her quivering lips, Sawyer shook his head. “No apologies and no regrets.”
Dragging his thumb over her bottom lip, he drew in a less-than-steady breath and forced himself to take a small step back. There was so much more he wanted to say…to do, but he sensed her walls were paper-thin at the moment. Sawyer could shred them in an instant, but he didn’t want to be added to her list of assholes. He’d wait until Brea stopped fighting this ungodly hunger between them to keep her from diving headfirst into an ocean of guilt.
“Eight o’clock,” he reminded.
“Come over at seven thirty, and I’ll feed you breakfast.” She looked startled, as if the invitation had randomly rolled off her tongue. “I mean…you can’t work on an empty stomach. You need to fuel your body, right?”
Sawyer couldn’t help but smile at her sudden nervousness. Tracing a soothing finger down her soft cheek, he nodded. “Seven thirty it is.”
He turned and started for the front door.
“Wait!” Brea cried. Sawyer froze in place, then turned as she raced toward him and launched herself in his arms. Burying her face in his neck, she pressed her lips to his throat. “Stay. Please?”
Shock pinged through him as he eased back and studied her expression. A nanosecond passed before he urgently dropped his mouth to hers. Her lips were lush, warm, and so damn inviting he wanted to growl. He didn’t know if she meant for him to stay five minutes or all fucking night. He could usually read women like a book, but not Brea. She gave him more mixed signals than a dyslexic football coach. But she’d given him secret passage to her fortress of towers and turrets, and Sawyer had every intention of storming her luscious castle, but only if she was truly on board.
“Tell me what you want, Brea.”
“You.” Her breathless answer held a hint of question, as if she feared he might turn her down.
Not in this lifetime, or the next.
“You sure?”
Stop trying to talk her out of it, dumb ass! the voice in his head implored.
Sawyer held his breath. Though the walk home was short, it would be a challenge of biblical proportions with a raging case of blue balls throbbing inside his jeans.
“Yes. I’m sure.”
As if sealing the deal, she slid her fingers into his. Then, without another word, Brea led him to the stairs. Sawyer could feel the palpable war raging inside her. Though not what he wanted, he mentally prepared himself if her courage faltered and he had to bow out and leave.
Brea led him to her room, waffling slightly before breaching the portal. Sawyer gently squeezed her hand and bent in close to her ear.
“You take the lead…take what you want, darlin’.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The minute she yelled for Sawyer to wait, a devil popped up on one shoulder and an angel on the other. The two began fighting like an old married couple in the throes of divorce.
What are you doing? Have you lost your damn mind? the angel scolded.
Get some! You know you want to. You deserve it. Weed and the rest of those losers never gave you free rein to take the lead. It’s about time you got some satisfaction for once, instead of always giving, giving, giving! Giving head. Giving money. Giving your ever-lovin’ soul to douchebag after douchebag who only used you to bust a nut, then rolled over and started snoring. Sawyer’s nothing like those dipshits, and you damn well know it.
Don’t do it! You’ll be sorry. He’ll break your heart. Oh…this can only end in catastrophe.
Aw, don’t listen to her. It’s just sex. You won’t fall in love with him. He’s too perfect. He doesn’t need you. But by the feel of what he’s packin’ in those jeans…he wants you. Just think how that huge cock is going to feel, stretching and filling your poor neglected pussy. It’s time to get down and dirty with that grade-A hunk of beef! Or would you rather wake up in the morning sticky and aching from another night of wet dreams?
The devil’s cajoling had rendered her opposing angel speechless. And while she’d bravely asked him to stay, now that she was alone with Sawyer in her room, tendrils of doubt wound like vines through her veins. The swell of uncertainty and panic had her feeling strung out like a junkie. She’d have laughed at herself if she weren’t so busy trembling.
As if sensing the manic emotions cresting inside her, Sawyer cupped her cheeks and pressed a light, chaste kiss upon her lips. “Darlin’, if you don’t want to do this, it’s okay.”
“No. I do…it’s just…”
“Feeling guilty about blowing your man-ban to hell, again?”
“Partly, yes. But that’s not the problem…I mean, there isn’t a problem, not really. It’s just that, I-I…” Lord, she was stammering like a loon. Swallowing tightly, Brea yanked up her big-girl thong. “Do you love me?”
Sawyer’s eyes widened. His face paled as if he’d seen a ghost. His mouth opened and snapped shut as if she’d proposed marriage to a priest. “Love you?”
Brea nearly laughed at the squeaking terror in his voice.
“Yes. Do you love me?”
“I…I…I’m sorry. I-I mean, I don’t even know you very well yet.” His voice quivered as if merely mentioning the L-word would leave him dismembered in a bloody carnage of claws and teeth. “No, Brea. I’m not in love with you. Listen…maybe this isn’t such—”
“No. Wait. I only have one more question.” She nervously licked her lips. “You won’t ask me to move in with you after we…do this, will you?”
“Move in with me?” His expression was total bewilderment. He was probably thinking she’d escaped from a psych ward and was in desperate need of some Thorazine. “No. I prefer to live alone. Look, Brea…I’m not sure what you think, but…I’m not looking for—”
“Good,” she cut him off and lifted to her toes. Biting back a grin at his puzzled gaze, Brea kissed him. “Please forget all the questions I asked, and tell me I haven’t ruined the mood, because I really want you to stay and fuck me to oblivion.”
Brea was certain he thought her a total nutjob, but unbeknownst to Sawyer, he’d guaranteed Brea couldn’t slide back into her old destructive habits. He didn’t love her and she wasn’t moving in with him. She could now have the most amazing sex of her life with the man of her fantasies and walk away unscathed.
She felt strong, brave, and incredibly free.
Leaning in, she cupped his nape and kissed him. But Sawyer’s lips were like iron, his body rigid as steel. He was probably trying to process if she was crazy or not. Then, as if nudged with a cattle pr
od, he melted against her lips and body while taking full control of the kiss.
His forceful command had her heart pounding double time. Their tongues swirled and circled while his copper whiskers prickled her face. She was enveloped in the heat and scent of his rugged body, and he filled the dark, empty places inside her. Tossing aside her inhibitions, Brea drew his hand to her breast. Covering his fingers with his palm, she squeezed, coaxing him to knead her heavy orbs. He didn’t disappoint.
“Mercy.” His voice was strained and hoarse. “I’m going to do a whole lot more than fuck you into oblivion, darlin’.”
Mischief glittered his gold and emerald eyes. Brea wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t lost in the splendor of another wet dream. She wasn’t. Sawyer was real. There. Standing in her bedroom with his capable hand wrapped around her breast.
“And just how do you intend to do that?”
“Watch and feel, darlin’…just watch and feel,” he drawled with a wealth of self-confidence.
Her body tingled in anticipation. With one hand lingering on her left breast, he raised his other hand, paying equal attention to her right, kneading them in tandem. Her body temperature soared while Sawyer held her in a hypnotic gaze. Moaning softly, she palmed his cheek. The prickly scruff scraped her flesh. She could easily imagine the feel of those whiskers gliding up between her thighs. Sawyer strummed his thumb over the fabric on her pebbled nipples. Brea closed her eyes and purred.
“You’ve got too many clothes on,” Sawyer whispered.
“So do you,” she murmured.
“I think we should remedy the situation, don’t you?”
“Oh, yeah,” she agreed in a sultry drawl.
Brea reached for the buttons of his shirt as Sawyer’s jaw clenched.
“Is something wrong?”
“Yeah,” he groaned. “I’m trying like hell not to rip your clothes to shreds, toss you on the bed, and mount you like a Brahma bull.”
Brea’s nerve endings lit up like a laser show. “What’s stopping you?”
“Like I said, I’m going to do a whole lot more than fuck you.” His voice came out strangled and the muscles of his neck bunched. “I’m going to crawl deep inside your pretty little soul.”
No. No. No. That wasn’t part of the deal.
She opened her mouth to argue, but Sawyer simply stole the words from her lips with a passionate kiss. Burnishing the tips of her breasts, each agonizing stroke promised endless, blissful torture. Her hormones cheered like the pep squad at a University of Texas homecoming game.
“Undress me, Brea,” Sawyer whispered. “I need to feel your hands on me.”
Her fingers trembled as she began freeing the buttons of his shirt. When she finished, the fabric fell open and she stilled, drinking in every ridge and plane of his sculpted chest. His faded jeans hung low on his hips, and her eyes were drawn to his cinnamon-colored hair disappearing beneath the waistband.
Butterflies fluttered and swirled in her stomach. She grew light-headed knowing all this male splendor would soon be hers. Well, at least for one night. As she pressed her palms against his firm, velvety, hot flesh, his muscles quivered beneath her fingers. He drew a quick intake of air through his mouth as she moved her hands over every ridge and valley.
Brea was reading his body like a book of braille, taking great pleasure in memorizing the story of Sawyer.
He plucked and rolled her throbbing nipples as she grew restless and frustrated with the fabric separating bare flesh.
“I need.” she panted, “you to get these damn clothes off.”
“When I’m ready,” he chuckled.
“But I’m ready now,” she whimpered.
He simply smiled and slowly shook his head. “I’m warming you up proper.”
“You warm me up any more and I’ll be nothing but flames.”
“I like the sound of that…burn for me, baby,” he murmured in a rough and gravelly voice. Seemingly content right where he was, he mercilessly teased and tormented her aroused peaks as he laved his tongue over her neck, ears, and lips.
Brea couldn’t take it anymore. She was melting from the inside out.
“Dammit, Sawyer. What are you waiting for? I’m dying! Get off my nipples! Strip out of those jeans, and shove that slab of wood you’ve got between your legs inside me.”
He stopped kissing her; he was laughing too hard to continue.
But she wasn’t joking. If he didn’t lay her down…or shove her up against the door soon, Brea was going to spontaneously combust—for sure.
He wanted to ride her like a bull? Well, sometimes you had to take the bull by the horns. Gripping his shoulders, she leaned in and flicked the tip of her tongue over one of his tight bronze nipples.
Sawyer stopped laughing. In fact, he tensed and growled as Brea savored his salty taste tingling on her tongue.
“What are you doing, trying to kill me, or just have your way with me?”
“Turnabout is fair play, cowboy.”
As she paid homage to his other nipple, Sawyer sucked in a hiss. Hearing him suffering too had her smiling against his flesh, but only for a second. Her patience had reached its end. The rate Sawyer was moving, it would be sunrise before she had the chance to lay eyes on all his naked glory. Oh, how she planned to drink in every bare inch, too. From the tops of his copper hair all the way down to his masculine toes.
Lifting onto the balls of her feet, she peeled the shirt off his wide shoulders. Sawyer grudgingly released her throbbing nipples and allowed the material to flutter to the floor before taking her breasts in hand again.
Brea suddenly didn’t care how long he wanted to strum her buds; she was lost in awe at the sight of his decadent torso. He’d been pussy-tingling sexy with his shirt on, but now? Holy hell! The man was a work of art. She wanted to weep at the sheer perfection of his rugged sun-kissed skin and sculpted, chiseled muscles.
If his top half looked this stunning, she couldn’t wait to see what was under his jeans.
Unable to keep from touching him, Brea traced her fingertips over the swells and dips along his shoulders and collarbones, dragging them lightly down the center of his chest, delighting in the feel of his body quivering. Sawyer wasn’t any more immune to her than she was to him.
Growing bolder, Brea swirled the tip of her tongue around his flat nipple. He let out a low growl, then bent and repaid her torment by nipping at one bud. An arc of pain-mixed satin spread outward, the feeling so surreal and sublime. She captured his nipple between her teeth and lashed it with her tongue.
Crying out a curse, Sawyer pried her from his chest and reared back. Sparks of need flashed in his eyes. His nostrils flared like a rabid bull.
Oh, yeah. She’d gotten his attention, all right, maybe more than she needed.
“Are you trying to make me lose my head?”
“No.” She flashed him a saucy smile. “I’m just returning the favor.”
“And what favor is that?” He smirked.
“You’ve made me suffer for days now.”
“Oh, I have, have I? In what way…exactly?”
“In every way. Everything about you is…decadent, delicious, and tempting.”
“I can say the very same about you.” A cocky grin speared his lips. “Maybe it’s time we do something about this mutual suffering. What do you say?”
“Well, I thought’s that’s where we were headed, but you’re moving so cotton-pickin’ slow I doubt we’re ever going to make it to the bed.”
“Slow? I’m moving too slow?”
Brea nodded. Her lips started to curl at his incredulous tone.
“Relax, darlin’. You’ll be begging and pleading soon enough. I promise.”
“I sure hope so.”
He arched his brows and grinned. “You doubt my abilities?”
She shook her head. “Not one bit. That’s why I’m so damn anxious.”
A low chuckle rumbled up from deep in his chest. This playful bedroom banter was
all new to her, but Brea liked it. She liked it a lot.
“Settle your sexy ass down. I’m going to make you shatter so hard and so often your hot little body will be quivering for days…weeks…months even.”
The prospect of death by orgasm made her start quivering already. Biting back a grin, she jerked up her chin and looked him square in the eyes. “Prove it.”
His confident grin screamed, challenge accepted. Without a word, Sawyer shucked her cotton tee off over her head and tossed it toward the door. His gaze locked onto her pink bra, trimmed in white lace, and he licked his lips. As he intently focused on the demi-cups, Sawyer’s breath grew ragged. She skimmed a gaze at the bulky package beneath his jeans and knew he was equally ready to get this provocative party started.
“Do you want me to take my bra off, or would you rather—”
“Bite it off with my teeth?”
“Or…there’s that way, too.” She giggled.
Her laughter brought his attention back to her face. He flashed her a clit-throbbing grin.
“On second thought…you take it off for me, darlin’. Take everything off. One piece at a time…nice and slow.”
Good grief. That certainly backfired on her. She’d never stripped for any man before. Usually her clothes were pawed off her in a rush. Revealing herself, for his eyes only, felt sharper and more intimate than sex itself. Brea wasn’t quite sure how or what to uncover first. As she slid one strap of her bra to the elbow, she felt as if she were peeling away her own layers of protection. And when she had finally worked the garment free and sent it puddling at her feet, Sawyer held her gaze. He didn’t fixate on her tits or grab and stuff one in his mouth like a slobbering dog. He simply delved deeper into her eyes, drawing out every vulnerability, weakness, and fear inside her.
Brea had never felt more naked or unsure of herself.
But then Sawyer did something that replenished her courage and restored her faith in a sliver of the male species; he smiled and opened his arms. As she thrust herself against his steely chest, he wrapped her in his protective arms. Then all of a sudden, Ozzie started barking. Not the usual sound when a squirrel infringed on the dog’s lawn. No, these were loud, frightening, rip-your-jugular-open kinds of barks that made the hair stand up all over her body.