Beard In Mind: (Winston Brothers, #4)

by Penny Reid

  Coming out of the bathroom, I found Shelly curled up on the couch under a blanket. Walking quietly to her, I spotted one of the pillows from the bed under her cheek.

  She’d taken the sofa, in her own house, and given me the bed. That didn’t make a lick of sense.

  I crouched next to her, threading my fingers into the silky hair at her temples. “Honey.”

  “Mmm.”

  I bent to whisper, “Shelly.”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m going to carry you to your bed. I’ll take the sofa.”

  “Mmm.”

  I grinned at her soft noises, at the untroubled expression on her face, and how her brow, even in sleep, still looked regal and stern.

  Sliding my arms under her legs and shoulder, I picked her up. And, unfortunately, that woke her up.

  She jerked in my arms. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m taking you to the bed.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “I don’t mind, I’ll take the sofa.” Our mouths were just inches apart, and hers was distracting.

  She squirmed. “Put me down.”

  Sighing unhappily, I did. I set her on her feet next to the couch. The blanket pooled at her feet and I stepped back to give her some space. It was dark, but I could see her just fine, and that meant I had to force my eyes to remain above her neck. The woman was wearing two pathetic scraps of fabric as pajamas. A thin little tank top and shorts. That’s it.

  I set my jaw and turned to the side, waiting for her to walk past.

  “Where are you?”

  I glanced at her and realized she couldn’t see at all. She didn’t have a hand out, but the way her eyes were moving about the room gave away her blindness.

  “I’m here.” I didn’t touch her, because if I did, I wouldn’t want to stop.

  Shelly turned her head in my direction and took a deep breath. Still she didn’t reach for me. I didn’t know the specifics of what to expect after her Friday session, but I recalled Dr. West saying something about Shelly doing self-guided ERP exercises over this week.

  “Can you see?” She licked her lips, her voice sandpapery. “Because I can’t see at all. It’s so dark.”

  “I can see.” Unbidden, my eyes dropped to her body, to the swell of her breasts, the panel of bare stomach, the curve of her hips. Pinpricks of heat raised over my skin and I curled my hands into fists.

  She shuffled forward and I caught her before she bumped into me, setting my hands gently at her waist.

  “Let me take you to your room.” My voice was rough, for obvious reasons.

  Saying nothing, she brought her hand to my forearm, her body gently colliding with mine. And then her hand on my arm slid up my bicep to my shoulder.

  “Shelly.” I was running out of breath.

  “I like this.”

  “What?”

  “Touching you.”

  Oh fuck.

  I held still and endured her hands moving over my body, down the front of my shirt, stopping at the hem, then pushing it up.

  “Take this off.”

  I did. I pulled the T-shirt over my head and let it drop to the floor.

  We stood there, facing each other in the dark, not touching. Despite the session on Friday and the progress that had been made, I realized she wasn’t quite there yet. Dr. West was right, Friday was just a step, the first step. Shelly wasn’t able to initiate contact. Not yet.

  Her hands balled into fists and she swayed forward, her breath struggling little puffs.

  If anything was going to happen tonight, I had to initiate it. I had to be the one to touch first.

  God, how I wanted her. How I wanted her above me, beneath me, surrounding me. But how could I?

  “I know why I hesitate,” her voice was breathless, “but why do you hesitate?”

  “Lots of reasons.”

  “Give me one.”

  “I don’t want to use you.”

  “I wish you would.”

  That pulled a laugh from me, just a small relief from the mounting tension. My eyes moved over her body, an undeniable impulse to devour the sight of her, her legs, stomach, chest, then up her neck to her lips.

  “You asked me on Saturday if sex was a big deal for me, or if it was you. The answer is both.”

  She held very still, and I got the sense she was holding her breath, straining to listen.

  “You are a big deal to me. I don’t want a fling. I don’t want a flirtation. I want promises.”

  “What can I promise you?”

  That you’ll love me. That I’ll be your priority.

  She shifted her weight from foot to foot. A spike of anxiety that she might leave me like this had me acting without forethought. I lifted my hands to her waist again, and immediately, her fingertips skimmed over the skin of my lower stomach in response, making my muscles tense in hot anticipation. She grew more assertive as she caressed my sides, abdomen, ribs, chest, shoulders, and then back down.

  Shelly stepped closer, a hint of thrilling contact between her breasts and my torso, and all the words and worries melted from my mind, died on my tongue, suffocated by the feel of her body, and the possibility of this moment.

  Her finger hooked in the waistband of my jeans. “Take these off.” Her hand turned, her fingers and palm cupping me over my zipper.

  Instinctively, I pressed myself into her touch even as I grabbed her wrist.

  “Beau, I promise—”

  She didn’t get to speak, because I kissed her, hard and wild, unbuttoning and unzipping my fly with one hand and bringing her palm inside my boxers with the other.

  She surged forward, stroking me ardently. I released her wrist and thrust my fingers into the back of her shorts, grabbing two handfuls of perfect ass. Allowing myself a self-indulgent moment to knead and fondle the luscious globes, I then shoved her shorts down her legs.

  “What are you doing?” she panted, tearing her lips from mine even as her hand worked me. She didn’t need to, I was already hard. I’d been hard the moment she touched my arm in the dark.

  I reached for and into my wallet, and—praise Billy—found three condoms there. My brother was fanatical about making sure we all had condoms, all of the time. Even me.

  Unwilling to release her fully, I ripped one open with my teeth.

  “Beau?” Her voice was high and uncertain as she clung to me.

  Batting her hands away from my dick, I rolled it into place while I bent, suckling her breast into my mouth through the whisper-thin fabric of her top. This thing was ridiculous, more like gauze than fabric.

  I loved it.

  She arched, her breath hitching when I gave her succulent nipple a little slide of my teeth. I wasn’t finished with her breasts. I wanted them close so I could lick and taste, bouncing in my face while I filled her.

  Thinking only of expediency, I backed her up to the wall, my hands sliding around her thighs and lifting her feet from the ground.

  “Oh God, we’re really doing this,” she said, like she was surprised we’d arrived here, like she was bracing herself.

  “Holy shit,” she said between my kiss assaults, the hot, demanding slide of my mouth and tongue against hers.

  Steadying herself by gripping my shoulders, and rolling her hips in search of mine, she blurted, “I just wanted to give you a blow job.”

  I stilled, breathing heavy against her chin. “Are you telling me to stop?”

  “God, no! Go. Go. Go. Do not stop.” She wiggled impatiently, panting. “I’d ask you to please fuck me, but I don’t think you’d appreciate that kind of language.”

  Lifting her higher, one of her legs wrapped around my hips as I positioned myself, rubbing the head of my dick over her slick center. “Then ask me to make love to you instead.”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Make love to me,” she sighed, her voice pleading. “Make love to me, Beau.”

  So I did. I entered her, filling her, and I was surrounded. She sucked in a breath, and then moaned
, her short nails digging into my shoulders.

  Meanwhile, I shuddered, the feel of her too intense, her body, her breath, and her touch overwhelming.

  “You feel . . .”

  “How do I feel?” I demanded, gritting my teeth against the fierce urgency for completion. We’d just started, but there was no way I was going to last. It had been so long, so long. And that meant our time was short.

  So I stalled, wrestling for control, asking again, “How do I feel?”

  Her torso was so long, her breasts were right where I’d wanted them, in my face, giving me easy access to lick and bite and savor. But I couldn’t, not if I wanted to be inside her for longer than mere seconds.

  But then Shelly bent her head, her fingers coming to my cheeks and lifting my chin. “Move, Beau.”

  “I need a minute.”

  “Come for me,” she whispered. “Come for me. And we’ll make love again, anywhere you want. On the couch, in my bed, in your car.”

  I groaned at the imagery. “You first.”

  I was tempted to start thinking unsexy thoughts just to last longer.

  She tilted her hips, rubbing her body against mine, encouraging me to move. “Don’t be afraid. We have forever.”

  We have forever.

  Trusting her, I moved. I moved once and a stab of forceful pleasure ignited at the base of my spine. My thrusts were inelegant, rough, needy and she answered by giving me tender kisses and soft moans.

  “Oh, God. Shelly.”

  “Come inside me.”

  Control lost, I did. Every one of my muscles tensed as I pumped into her, needing it. Needing her, needing her now. I couldn’t think beyond right now, beyond the stars at the edges of my vision and the hot pleasure racing through my body.

  26

  “The mind is not a vessel to be filled, but a fire to be kindled.”

  ― Plutarch

  * * *

  *Beau*

  I didn’t have even ten seconds to get my bearings, or wallow in the disappointment of coming too fast, before Shelly began kissing me in earnest again, her hands moving over my body.

  Easing her down, I returned the desperation of her mouth in kind, leaving a trail of licks and bites over her jaw and neck, to that spot I knew she loved. Swirling my tongue, she reflexively tilted her head toward her shoulder, arching against me.

  “Give me until the count of twenty,” she said, her words breathless.

  “What?”

  Placing her hands flat against my chest, she pushed me away gently. “Count to twenty after I go, and meet me in my room.”

  I reached for her. “Shell—”

  “And no condom this time, please. I don’t like how they feel.” She slipped past me, feeling along the wall as she went and pausing just briefly to flick on a light switch. The soft glow of the overhead light illuminated her extraordinary body, the long line of her smooth legs, the span of her gorgeous shoulders and back, her perfect backside, the taper of her waist.

  Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes moved down and then up my body. I got the fleeting sense she was admiring me as well.

  Shelly’s mouth, now swollen from our kisses, curved into a small smile as her gaze connected with mine. “You are beautiful, Beau Winston.”

  Then she darted around the corner.

  Gathering my wits, or the ones that remained, I stepped out of my jeans and crossed to the bathroom. Autopilot had switched on, the sexy kind, where all I could see were flashes of fantasy, of how we’d already been together, of how I wanted her next, and of how I’d take her the time after that.

  Finished, I walked to her room, and paused just inside the door.

  The overhead light was on and she’d taken all the loose blankets off the bed, leaving just the fitted sheet. There weren’t even any pillows. Shelly was standing next to her closet, like she’d just shut the door to it.

  And she was naked.

  “They distract me,” she said, like it was an apology.

  I only tangentially heard her, and it took me a few seconds to understand her meaning, because—like a man dying of thirst—I was too busy drinking her in.

  “I don’t care if the room is bare,” I said without thinking, moving, needing to touch her, “just as long as you’re in it.”

  She turned toward me as I approached, sighed a little sigh as I slipped my hand around her waist and brought our bodies together. Once again, I was backing her up. But this time, as her knees connected with the mattress, she landed on a bed.

  I took a split second to admire the sight of her lying there, her hair wild, her gorgeous breasts already marked by my mouth, her open legs, her willing body—naked and mine. About to be mine again, just as I was now hers.

  And I noticed, with more than a little amusement and satisfaction, that her wide eyes were on my dick. I didn’t think her reaction was because I was big—I was big—but more because I was already ready to go.

  “God bless twenty-four-year-olds.” Her words were breathless.

  I climbed over her, sliding my skin against hers, enjoying the heat of friction between us.

  “I’m almost twenty-five.” I wagged my eyebrows.

  She chuckled and I captured the laugh on her lips until it became a moan. I kissed her, fondling her breast, then sliding my hand down her body, between her open legs. I opened them further, spreading her wide until she parted. Circling her clit with light, teasing touches, I pulled a ragged moan from her, one that scorched my skin and ignited fire in my veins.

  Then I slid myself down her body, kissing as I went, tasting the heat and salt of her skin. My mouth watered in anticipation.

  But when I reached her hip, she tensed, as though just realizing my intent. “Wait, wait—”

  I glanced at her, at the wild quality in her eyes.

  She shook her head. “Don’t do that.”

  I licked my lips, my brow pulling together in confusion. “What? Why?”

  “You don’t like it.”

  “I don’t?”

  “No. Men don’t like it. They only pretend they do.”

  “Uh, nope.” I shook my head, intent on my course, nuzzling her sex.

  She grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked frantically. It hurt.

  “Beau, don’t.”

  “Woman, I’ve been fantasizing about this for weeks. Kindly release my hair.”

  She didn’t. She just stared at me, beset with anxiety.

  Every part of me strained toward that sweet spot, so close. I was starving for her, and she was worried I wouldn’t like it.

  I tried a different approach. “Do you like it?”

  “No. Because you don’t like it.”

  “Don’t tell me what I like.” I said this through clenched teeth, because—fucking fuck fuck—I could smell her arousal, her heat, her body.

  “Beau—”

  “How about, if I don’t like it, then I promise I’ll stop?”

  Shelly looked torn, but she also looked tempted. So I gently uncurled her fist from my hair and brought her hand to my mouth. Her palm facing me, I licked the tender flesh just below the joints of her index and middle fingers with the flat of my tongue while I held her stare.

  Her eyes rolled back in her head and her whole body shivered.

  I took that as a yes.

  I decided I would take my time. I’d wanted this for so long, and—based on her reaction—this might be my only chance. I wanted to savor every second.

  Parting her with my thumbs, I licked her, slowly. The burst of flavor on my tongue wrenched a groan from my chest. I curled my arms and hands around her legs, holding her still as I feasted, sucking softly.

  “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” she said in a sudden rush, her body tensing in a panicked wave. “I’m coming. Fuck, Beau. I’m coming.”

  I was surprised. And disappointed. But also prepared.

  I slipped two fingers inside her to catch her release, and continued the slow, measured pressure of my mouth. Clearly, it worked f
or her.

  She pulsed around me, and I groaned again at the sharp tremors around my fingers as I slid them in and out.

  “Oh. Fuck. Me.” Her words were strangled, and I was pretty sure she hadn’t realized she’d said them.

  I glanced at her face. It was contorted with confusion and elation, rousing in me a bone-deep satisfaction and primal pride.

  “Stop. Please stop.” Her voice was sharp and breathy, like she was caught between pain and pleasure.

  I immediately obliged and did so grinning.

  “Tomorrow? Same time? Same place?” Yeah. I was smug.

  “Ahhhgraha,” was her nonsensical response.

  Climbing back up her body, I took advantage of her dazed state and left wet kisses on her skin. Again taking my time as I took note of what aroused her, what made her squirm, what tickled, and what had her stretching, arching, straining to get closer.

  By the time I’d made it to her mouth, she’d recovered her breath and her eyes were open. Though they were hazy, drunk on orgasm and sex, they still hit me square in the chest.

  I needed to be inside her again. I throbbed with it, ached with the need. I needed to be inside her while she looked at me with her fierce gaze.

  Maybe she read the intent behind my eyes, or maybe she was acting on her own desires, but her hand circled my cock and stroked, her body arching lazily beneath me. “Beau.”

  “Shelly.” I kissed the corner of her mouth, licking her lips lightly as I pressed myself into her palm.

  She looked at me, sober and sincere. “Make love to me.”

  That pesky rubber band that had been plaguing me for weeks snapped, my chest expanding, ballooning with warmth and want and wonder. I settled myself between her thighs, teased her still-sensitive flesh with a slide of my skin, and then I entered her.

  Shelly sighed as she moved beneath me. It sounded content. It sounded happy.

  She watched me.

  I watched her.

  Kissing, touching, and cherishing each other, we made love.

  And it was essential.

  * * *

  The aroma of coffee coming from the kitchen woke me up. I rubbed my eyes against the early brightness of day and glanced at my surroundings. Shelly’s side of the bed was empty.