“I missed you too.” Ava arched against him, reaching for the hem of his thermal shirt so she could finally, finally get her hands on his bare skin. But Brennan hadn’t removed the second wrap from her hand, and in the heat of the kisses that had followed, she’d failed to notice the blue cotton still keeping her right fingers prisoner.
“Ugh, I want this off so I can feel you.” She reached for the edge of the wrap with her free hand, but Brennan cut the move short by capturing both wrists in one fluid sweep.
“No.”
“I’m sorry?” Ava breathed, her heartbeat ratcheting higher. The urge to touch his body without barriers thundered beneath her skin, growing from an ache to a full-blown demand.
One Brennan refused to let her answer. “I said no. I promised to make you scream, and believe me, I intend to be a man of my word.”
“You promised we’d both scream,” she reminded him, and he responded by tucking her hands beneath either side of her hips.
“Sit on your hands if you have to, sweetheart. You’re screaming first.”
In the span of Ava’s gasp, Brennan covered her body from shoulders to core, his mouth making a slow, sexy descent from her ear to the column of her neck. Her fingers tingled with the white hot urge to leave the spot where he’d placed them, snug against the denim-covered curve of her ass. But not being able to touch him meant having to slow down and focus, and oh God, the man’s mouth was pure magic on the spot where her shoulder folded into her collarbone.
“Ohhh.” Ava groaned her approval, bowing her spine from the bedsheets to give him better access, and he smiled into her skin.
“Well, that’s a start.” Hooking his fingers under the hem of her long-sleeved T-shirt, Brennan relieved her of the garment, returning her hands under her hips as soon as the cotton hit the floor. He picked up right where he’d left off at her collarbone, heating her skin with his tongue and his lips before cooling it right back off with gentle puffs of breath. Each move brought him closer to her aching breasts, until finally he traced the slope of one side all the way down to the center of her breastbone, the following exhale turning her untouched nipples into tightly drawn peaks.
“Oh God.” The words spilled past Ava’s lips even though she didn’t remember forming them, and she impulsively pushed upward with her trapped hands, canting her hips against the ridge of his cock.
Brennan froze, one finger beneath the front closure of her bra and both eyes locked on her face. “Ava.” The word was a warning, low and rough in the back of his throat, and a tiny thrill of realization snapped through Ava’s mind.
“Yes?” she asked, using her hands to press her hips up more slowly this time.
“You need to stop that.” He thrust back against her, the cradle of his lower body keeping time with her movements for just a minute before he stopped with a groan. “Now.”
“Not a chance.”
Brennan’s eyes flew wide before narrowing in on her in disbelief. “What?”
Ava shook her head, her hair spilling over both shoulders. “I might scream first, but you’re coming with me.”
Using her hands to guide her, she moved her hips in a rhythm both slow and full of purpose. It took only seconds for Brennan to match it, pushing back into her as he slipped the straps of her lacy white bra from her shoulders. Her nipples strained with the need to be touched, and he didn’t disappoint. Brennan balanced his weight on one forearm at her side as he used the other hand to gently skim her nipple with the pad of his thumb. Three passes had Ava panting, and when he dipped his head to draw the needy tip past his lips on the fourth, she arched up on a cry.
“Better,” he said, his goatee rasping her nipple with a delicious glide of pleasure-pain. He shifted his body more tightly to her side, coasting both hands down the midline of her torso to reach for the button on her jeans. Returning his mouth to her already aching nipple, Brennan alternated his attention between both breasts as his fingers made fast work of removing the denim. He snapped up both of her hands, unraveling the second wrap from her wrist, then fingers, in a series of well-placed tugs.
“Not so fast,” he grated as she lifted her hands to reach for him. “I like you here.” Lacing his fingers through hers on first one side, then the other, Brennan slid her palms back into place beneath either side of her hips. The unexpected thrill of their joined touch under her body sent a shot of damp heat to Ava’s core, and it doubled as he dropped his eyes to the swath of her white lace panties.
Brennan released one of her hands, notching his body against her side to drag a fingertip over the crease where her thigh met her body. “Show me what you want, Ava.”
His other hand, still wrapped around hers and tucked tight to the swell of her backside, pushed her palm into motion, rocking her hips along with it. The contact of his fingers on the edge of her panties coupled with the rhythm he created with her hips took her straight from slow burn to screaming need. Brennan tightened the hand beneath her to meet Ava’s wordless demand for more, and when he slipped past her panties to test her heat with his fingers, her eyes flew open wide.
“That,” she cried, tilting her hips even further off the bed. “I want you to touch me like that.”
Brennan’s lashes swept downward, shadowing his face in the low afternoon light as he gazed at their intimate contact. “Damn, you are so hot. I want my hands on you all night.”
Ava took in his face through her lust-filled haze, slowly registering the hard line of his jaw and the taut flex of muscles pressed hard to her side. The sheer want on his face broke past his waning look of control, and between his expression and his touch, she was lost. Ava’s knees fell wide as the rest of her body gripped tight, her fingertips curling into the flare at the back of her hips as she thrust against Brennan’s hand.
Together, they built a rhythm both hypnotic and hot, the sheer pleasure mixing in with Ava’s bright urge for release. Brennan’s movements were unyielding, but he watched her with reverence, his heavy breaths matching hers moan for moan. He slid his thumb past the lacy edge of her panties, stroking the tight bundle of nerves at her center, and Ava jacked her hips all the way off the bed.
“Brennan,” she cried, arching into his touch. “Oh God. Please . . .”
The request broke from her chest at the same moment he called out her name, and the ragged sound of his voice sent her right over the edge. Ava unraveled under Brennan’s hands, wave after wave of breathless free-fall coaxing her trembling from the inside out. His strokes became gentler as she returned to awareness in slow degrees, until he finally smoothed her panties back into place and returned to her side.
“Ava.” Brennan cupped her face to kiss her with just a surprisingly soft brush of his lips. “Show me what you want now.”
She met his gaze, fully prepared to give him a sexy comeback, when his expression registered in her brain. His hands were still, one palm cradling her cheek, the other propped beneath him where their shoulders touched. That black-coffee stare that had glittered with openly sensual intention just minutes ago slid into something else, something questioning, and the truth slammed into Ava all at once.
Brennan wasn’t telling her to show him something brazen as part of their foreplay. He was giving her a chance to run.
“Brennan.” Ava slid fully to her side, placing her fingers over the center of his shirt. She should feel vulnerable, nearly naked while he was still dressed, but she didn’t. Slowly, she splayed her hand over his thumping heartbeat, sliding close to fortify the contact with her shoulders and chest.
“I’m sure.” She kissed him, the salty-sweet taste of his lips invading her senses and rekindling the ache between her thighs. “I want this. I want you.”
Ava reached between their bodies for the hem of Brennan’s shirt, guiding it over his head in a swift pull. She took a minute to drink in the corded muscles, the hard, masculine curve of his shoulders, the sinewy fold of his pecs. A dusting of dark hair covered his chest, and Ava followed it with her fingers a
ll the way to the thin trail leading into his waistband.
“You still keep a stash of condoms in your wallet for emergencies?”
Brennan laughed, nipping at her bottom lip. “Yeah.”
Her hands landed on the top button of his jeans, sliding it free with a twist. “Good. ’Cause we’re going to need them.”
The garment hit the floor, and with only one quick pause to grab a condom, Ava returned to the bedsheets with a sassy smile. She ran one hand up the length of his thigh, gliding past the edge of his black boxer briefs. Positioning herself on her side to face him, she angled her hips to his, leaving just enough room for her hand between them. Her nipples tightened at the friction from the crisp smattering of hair on his chest, sparking a fresh burst of heat in her core, and she followed it on nothing but impulse.
“Now it’s your turn.” Ava wrapped her fingers around Brennan’s cock, caressing him over the thin layer of cotton. “Show me what you want.”
She thrust her hips against the motion of her hand, using both to recreate the sensual movement that had sent her over the edge. Brennan arched into the curve of her fingers, the push sending his rock-hard length over the damp center of her panties.
“Here,” he ground out, his voice mingling with her pleasured gasp. “I want to be inside you, right here.” He broke the space between them, but just enough to lower the scrap of lace from around her hips. “I want to fill you up so many times, you lose your mind. I want to be here.” His fingers swept between her thighs, sliding home with a thrust that made them both moan.
“Then don’t wait.” Ava mustered the last bit of her composure to pull off Brennan’s boxer briefs, planting a string of kisses over his neck as he slid the condom into place. Rolling her back against the mattress, he pressed her thighs apart with his frame, and she arced up to meet him as he thrust forward to fill her.
“Oh.” Absolute bliss collided with sheer, sexual desire in Ava’s veins. Brennan levered himself forward to cover her, moving slowly until there was no space between them where they were joined. He started a sinuous rhythm, and she answered every thrust with one of her own until they rocked together so seamlessly, there was simply no boundary between where he ended and she began.
“God, Ava,” Brennan bit out, his lips rough against her shoulder. “You feel so fucking good.”
Pushing back from her chest, he centered his weight on his knees, gripping her hips and lifting her from the heated sheets to hold her flush with his body as he filled her again and again. The need for release coiled deep in Ava’s belly, and she gave in to every impulsive demand streaming beneath her skin. She tipped her hips against the strength of Brennan’s movements, the angle bringing him to the spot where she needed him most.
“There,” she gasped, her body tightening further in delicious demand. “Oh, God, right . . . there.”
Ava’s orgasm crashed through her, and Brennan’s muscular frame went bowstring tight at the sound of her reckless cries. Desperate for him to lose control, she knotted her legs around his waist to deepen their connection even more. His eyes darkened, nearly black and utterly fierce as his thrusts grew faster, matching the intensity of his gaze. Brennan dug his fingers into her hips, holding her even closer as his motions became deeper and more frenzied.
Sliding one hand to Ava’s shoulder, he pressed his chest against hers, covering her with heat and friction and closeness so fierce, her breath flew out on ragged gasps. With one final thrust, Brennan groaned out a curse, calling her name as he locked his hips into hers and shuddered over the edge.
They lay together until their heavy breaths turned into slower draws of air, the comfortable weight of Brennan’s body covering hers with sweet familiarity. The sunlight poking in through the blinds had coalesced to the shadows of late afternoon, sending thinly lined patterns onto the carpet beneath the window. He brushed a kiss over her forehead before slipping from the room, returning a few minutes later to lie back down at her side.
“I’ve got to hand it to you,” Ava said, propping herself up on one elbow to look at him more fully. “You really know how to relax a girl.”
Brennan laughed, his whole face softening as he turned to put them face-to-face. “I’m fairly certain that’s a mutual talent, but I’m glad you feel better.”
The dread that had overwhelmed her earlier threatened to take another poke at her chest, but Ava dodged it with her battle-tested moxie. Please, please, just give me this moment. “I do feel better.”
“You want to talk about it?”
The simplicity of Brennan’s question had the word yes burning hot on her tongue. Reaching out, she wrapped her arms around his waist to pull him close, but when her fingers brushed over the extensive scar marking the skin of his lower back, they both froze.
“Do you?” Ava whispered, concern welling in her chest as her eyes flashed up to his.
“Not really.”
The wide-open honesty on Brennan’s face marked his answer as the truth rather than a cover-up or an excuse. And as much as she wanted to listen if he needed her, right now Ava understood the need to forget.
“Okay,” she said, using the momentum of her arms around his body to roll him deftly against the warm sheets. “I’m here if you change your mind. But in the meantime, maybe we should explore the true purpose of a Sunday afternoon.”
A single dark brow lifted. “And what’s that?”
Ava smiled, parting her knees over his hips as she leaned in for a kiss that left no uncertainty about her intentions. “Relaxing, of course. After all, if we’re going to chill out, we might as well go all in.”
Chapter Sixteen
Brennan flipped through the inventory sheets on the clipboard in front of the Double Shot’s walk-in fridge, absolutely unable to erase the crooked smile from his lips. The Monday morning produce order had arrived earlier than usual, but not even the lack of extra downtime could knock his mood out of the oh-hell-yes stratosphere.
After ten hours, three cartons of Chinese delivery food, and one really long, really hot shower together, Brennan and Ava had redefined the very nature of the word “relaxing.”
“Well. That’s not your usual fare.” Adrian’s gruff voice met him from the alcove leading to the back entrance, and he reached up to swing the brim of his Harley-Davidson baseball hat away from his narrowed eyes. Brennan recognized his buddy’s bid for a more thorough examination, but for once, he didn’t care how closely Adrian looked at him.
“What?” Brennan asked, adding a whistle to his grin. “I can’t be in a good mood?”
Adrian went brows-up. “It’s nine o’clock on a Monday morning. In a word, no.”
“If you say so.” Brennan signed off on the updated inventory, moving toward the drink station at the pass-through to the dining room. He scooped just enough coffee grounds into the filter basket to resuscitate a hibernating grizzly bear, hitting BREW for Adrian before grabbing a Coke for himself.
“Hmm.” Adrian raised his scruffy chin in thanks, his expression quickly going sour at the Coke in Brennan’s hand. “You know that’s not natural, right?”
Nope. Not even a raft of crap from his army tank of a boss was going to flatline Brennan’s incredible mood. “What, this?” He toasted Adrian and took a long sip. He’d become so used to drinking soda instead of coffee in the morning, that the quirky habit barely registered with him anymore.
Adrian shrugged out of his leather jacket, trading the beat-to-hell garment for one of the clean aprons hanging on the wall next to the alcove. “Yes, that. Have you got something against good, old-fashioned coffee?”
“There’s such a thing as too much caffeine, you know.” Coffee had always thrown Brennan into overdrive. Which would’ve been great if he’d worked a nine-to-five, and even better if he’d clocked longer hours on a regular schedule. But doing twenty-four-hour shifts at an adrenaline-soaked firehouse meant getting enough sleep—sometimes at weird-ass hours and always at unpredictable intervals—was necessary to a guy�
�s survival. Brennan had quickly learned to swap coffee for something lower grade. Catching decent shut-eye in a bunk full of jacked-up firefighters was hard enough without the caffeine buzz.
Not that he’d had to worry about it for two and a half years. Then again, his system had seen more than its fair share of chemical manipulation, and Brennan knew all too well that the detox—from both the highs and the lows—was a bitch best left undisturbed.
“I think we’re gonna have to agree to disagree on that one,” Adrian said, filling his cup to the brim. “How’s your reporter?”
Brennan smiled, welcoming his good mood back with open arms. “That obvious?”
“Seeing as how your facial expressions normally range from serious to scowling, I’d say the shit-eating grin is a bit of a giveaway.”
“Why does everyone think I’m so serious?” Brennan argued, albeit without heat. So he had a moderately functioning work ethic. Sue a guy for wanting to be busy.
Adrian snorted, grabbing a frying pan from the open-air wire rack by the cooktop and setting it over one of the burners with a clang. “Maybe it’s because you do things like supervise produce deliveries at ungodly hours on your morning off.”
Okay. The big man had a point. “Fine. But you’re serious too,” Brennan countered. The only thing Adrian took to heart more than cooking at the restaurant was Teagan, and she went hand in hand with the place, anyway.
His buddy shrugged, knotting an apron over his jeans and T-shirt combo. “Yeah, but I belong right here in the kitchen. Always have.”
The implication winged between them before settling in Brennan’s gut like a stone. “Are you saying I don’t belong at the Double Shot?”
“Fuck, no.” Adrian pegged him with a gray green stare that backed up the affirmation 100 percent. “If I thought you weren’t solid, you wouldn’t work in my restaurant, man. All I’m saying is I get the feeling right here you belong somewhere else, you know?”
All Wrapped Up (A Pine Mountain Novel) Page 17