Be My Hope: A BWWM Romance (Make It Marriage Book 7)

by Nia Arthurs

Just one kiss.

  It’s wrong.

  So wrong.

  But in this moment, I don’t want to be right about anything.

  Eighteen

  Brett

  Her mouth is inviting. Her gaze is tugging me closer.

  And further away at the same time.

  She’s confused.

  Waffling between courage and caution.

  I don’t push her either way.

  I just wait.

  Breathlessly.

  This has to be her choice.

  I’ve made mine.

  I want her.

  More than anything.

  I need her.

  She’s the first woman I’ve shared my past with.

  The first to listen with sincerity.

  Not pity.

  Not shock.

  Just quiet understanding.

  My hands skim her flesh, slowly raking my fingers down her arms.

  I can’t not touch her.

  But this is as far as I’ll go until she makes up her mind.

  Her eyes squeeze shut.

  She doesn’t move.

  Doesn’t look at me.

  I don’t rush her. Tierra has every right to be hesitant. I’m not the person with the most to lose.

  She is.

  But I want her to succumb to the recklessness.

  I want her to let it go.

  Not just because of my desires.

  Because of her own. Because she’s been keeping herself on a tight leash. Living life for others. Never indulging in the adoration she deserves.

  And I want to give it to her.

  Tonight.

  And tomorrow night.

  And even six months from now.

  A year from now.

  Ten.

  “What do you want from me, Brett?” Her eyes hold equal parts care and desperation. “When this is over—”

  “Who said it had to be over?”

  She slants me a dark look.

  I lower my voice. “All I know is that I want you.”

  “You’ve mentioned that.”

  “And you want me.”

  Her lips mash together. She doesn’t deny it.

  “Once you make that choice, I’m not going to stop.”

  “I shouldn’t,” she murmurs. “But I want to.”

  My fingertips brush the side of her knees. “Good.”

  “What do you feel for me? Is it just… this?” She indicates the space between us.

  I shake my head no.

  It’s more than that.

  Something.

  I don’t know.

  Is it love?

  I don’t want to call it that.

  I don’t believe in love.

  But it sure as hell is something close.

  Tierra pins her mouth together.

  She doesn’t ask me to specify what it is. It’s enough to know that we’re scraping against the edge of something deeper. Something more meaningful.

  It’s the last assurance she needs.

  Slowly, Tierra trails her fingers around my neck. The slight scrape of her nails against my nape drives me wild.

  “Brett…” she whispers.

  That’s all she has to say.

  I close the distance between us, unable to resist her any longer.

  She parts her lips.

  Or maybe I part it.

  I can’t be sure.

  All I know is that she’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.

  Our tongues dance.

  Lips crash.

  Her taste drags me into a pleasure I’ve never known.

  She moans. Wraps her hands tighter around me.

  Her fingertips scrape against my jaw, rubbing the soft stubble.

  The length of me hardens against her, relentless muscle pushing against soft, sensitive flesh.

  She moans again. Lets herself go.

  I know the moment she’s made her choice.

  Tierra presses her chest to mine. Her thighs are flush against my thighs. Her eyes fall closed in surrender.

  I need her closer.

  Reaching out, I circle her waist and drag her into my lap.

  My hand falls over her thighs.

  Press against the small of her back.

  Bring her up against me.

  My kiss turns wild.

  I consume her.

  And she consumes me.

  Steals my breath.

  My thoughts.

  My doubts.

  A thrill hums through my veins.

  My body roars, silently admitting to having wanted her since the moment I saw her strutting toward me in the cemetery, wearing a black dress and holding a yellow umbrella as the rain fell all around us.

  My fingers curl into her hair.

  Tug her closer.

  Closer.

  Close enough to mold her, shape her, make her mine.

  Her groans make me crazy for more—her whole body beneath me, my hands all over her skin.

  I want her.

  But I also want to give myself to her.

  My hurts.

  My broken pieces.

  My soul.

  I need more of her.

  Right here. Right now.

  My hands skim her flesh, my mouth crumples her will to mine. “Take off your clothes.”

  The honeyed words dance in the air.

  Startling in clarity.

  Coated in scandal.

  Tierra pulls back from the kiss, breathless.

  I know she’s not used to being ordered by the way she blinks and I know she likes it by the way her pupils dilate.

  Still, she struggles.

  Fights.

  Doubts.

  She arches an eyebrow. “Barking orders?”

  “What we’re about to do is a little difficult to accomplish with your skirt on.” I lower my lips to kiss on the tender flesh of her neck.

  Her knees tremble.

  Her hand flaps up in the air. Curves around my neck.

  She moans.

  I grin. “Any other objections?”

  She doesn’t answer.

  So I keep sucking on her.

  Damn.

  Her taste is addictive. Overwhelming.

  I love on her neck.

  Beat down her defenses with a soft, tender lick.

  She whimpers.

  “Tierra,” I whisper, push her hair to the other side of her neck. Kiss her just below her ear. “Don’t make me ask you again.” I circle her waist with my arms. The silky lace of her shirt falls gently against me.

  My heart pounds as she shifts back.

  Grabs the hem of her blouse.

  Yanks it off.

  Then she goes for her skirt. Unbuttons the top.

  Pulls the zipper.

  I slip my hands beneath her.

  Drag the zipper down the rest of the way.

  She slowly gets off me. Off the couch.

  Stands on her feet.

  Pulls the straps off her tank top.

  First the left, then the right.

  My eyes widen as she reveals herself to me.

  She’s wearing sensible black lingerie.

  Damn. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  My eyes trace the journey of her hands as she shoves the material of her tank top down to her waist. Then her knees. Then it’s scrunched around her ankles.

  She kicks it away.

  She’s staring at me as she does it.

  Holding fast to her choice.

  Going down with the ship.

  My heart pounds, falling beneath the spell of her deep, intoxicating eyes.

  So damn confident.

  So sexy.

  This is her.

  Without any boundaries.

  Without overthinking.

  Without fear.

  My gaze makes a slow trek up her body.

  Moonlight slices against her dark skin.

  The shape of her hips.

  Her chest.

>   Her hair billowing around her face.

  Pinpricks of light like silver stars pierce through the glass wall.

  Blue shadows burst from the aquarium.

  The soft hum of the air conditioner.

  The sweet scent of her hair.

  “You’re beautiful,” I say, pushing up from the sofa. “So freaking magnificent.”

  “So are you,” she whispers.

  I caress her cheek.

  “Your turn.” She reaches for a button on my shirt.

  I snatch her wrist. Slant her a stern look.

  Her throat bobs. Her eyes widen.

  She’s still clamoring for control.

  For something solid to stand on.

  But she’s excited.

  To see what I’ll do next.

  To see what I’ll command of her.

  “How is that fair?” Intrigue glimmers in her voice. “All your clothes are on.”

  “Yes, for this part.”

  I move closer to her. Her bare skin presses against my suit. Even with the fabric between us, I can feel the heat emanating off her body.

  Leaning down, I brush my lips against hers.

  The kiss fans the flames of our desire until it’s roaring out of control.

  Burning through our flesh.

  To our souls.

  She opens her mouth to allow my tongue entrance.

  My hand slides down to her waist, holding her close.

  She vibrates beneath me.

  Impatient.

  Hungry.

  My mind spins.

  Frantic.

  With chaos.

  With need.

  I almost lose my cool at the feel of her.

  But I reign it back.

  Focus on Tierra first.

  As her knees buckle, I catch her.

  Lift her into my arms.

  Carry her to the desk.

  When I let her down, she reaches for my belt buckle.

  I snatch her wrists again.

  Capture them above her head this time.

  Jut my chin. “Sit.”

  Her mouth opens.

  I press my finger to her lips. Stop whatever protests she’ll make.

  I’m not rushing.

  We have all night.

  Her chest heaves.

  Eyes hazy with lust, she relaxes her muscles.

  I grab her hips. Drag her to the edge of the table.

  She gasps as she slides easily to the edge.

  Her long legs dangle over.

  I push them aside.

  Rake my fingers over the sides of her inner thighs.

  So soft.

  Like satin.

  I lean over.

  Let my lips follow along on the journey.

  Closer.

  Closer.

  Closer.

  There.

  She groans. Digs her fingers into my hair. Clamps her thighs around me.

  I push through her trembling.

  Listen to the beautiful notes of her gasps.

  Time stops.

  Suspends.

  Tierra unravels before me.

  Loudly.

  I stand up and kiss her.

  She reaches for me.

  Grabs me tight.

  “Now. Please,” she begs, her back arched and her neck exposed for my pleasure.

  I nod. "Stand up.”

  She does.

  “Against the table.”

  She positions herself. No hesitation this time.

  “Bend over,” I say firmly, my nostrils flaring from the desire raging inside me.

  I grab protection.

  Waste no time putting it on.

  Then I give her all of me.

  Right there against the desk.

  Her body melds against mine.

  So soft.

  So eager.

  As I rock into her, our worlds come apart.

  I marvel at my own obsession.

  She fits so perfectly against me.

  Like we were made for each other.

  Like I’ve been waiting all my life for her.

  As we fall apart together, as we both pause to catch our breath, as she cracks a feisty joke about me following her orders next time, I know one thing for certain.

  I made my match.

  And it’s not any of the women in the folder she brought tonight.

  Nineteen

  Tierra

  I unfold my legs. Place one foot on the floor. Swivel my ankle to turn the chair back and forth.

  Brett places a kiss on my shoulder.

  His lips are warm.

  So is his touch on my side.

  I can feel his soft caress through the fabric of the shirt I’m wearing. His shirt. It’s way too big for me. Shrouds me like a tent. I had to fold up the sleeves so I could free my hands to eat. But I love it.

  It smells like him—like pleasure.

  Like wealth.

  Like confidence.

  My palm falls back.

  Brushes against his abs.

  His massive pecs.

  The man is a work of art.

  I’m not blind.

  And Brett’s not shy.

  He’s wearing nothing but his boxer briefs.

  Which is something I’m sure the delivery guy questioned very much when Brett opened the door to pay for the food earlier.

  “Here.” Brett’s deep voice rumbles close to my ear.

  A pair of chopsticks appear in front of me.

  A dumpling dipped in soy sauce.

  I lean forward. Open my mouth. Accept the delicious dough.

  Mm.

  I lick my lips. Groan in pleasure.

  The flavors explode in my mouth.

  Rich. Decadent.

  This is definitely not the five-dollar cuisine I’m used to having.

  “Another one.” I wave two fingers.

  The chopsticks return.

  I nab the dumpling.

  Taste the explosion of rich juices.

  Groan even louder.

  Brett arches an eyebrow. “You’re about to make me jealous.”

  “You should be.”

  He laughs.

  I smile. Glance out the window.

  Outside, there are no stars in the sky, but the city lights are a beautiful substitution.

  Cars zip by on the highway.

  Red lights.

  Yellow lights.

  The world spins. Moves. Hustles.

  But here, in Brett’s office, feels like another world.

  Just the two of us.

  Me sitting on his lap.

  His fingers on my hip.

  His head on the dip of my shoulder.

  The scent of me still lingers on his desk.

  The scent of us still lingers on my skin.

  Heavy silence still carries remnants of our desire.

  Echoes of my hoarse screams.

  His low, pleasured grunts.

  My name on his lips.

  His name on mine.

  I’m trapped in the current of electricity that snaps around us.

  Cocooning us from reality.

  As soon as I leave the protection of his arms, doubts will attack.

  But for now, I’m content, sticking close to him, cuddling, being fed.

  Being… happy.

  For the first time in my life.

  And trying not to be scared.

  Scared that I made the wrong decision.

  That this night will come back to bite me.

  Not just professionally.

  Emotionally.

  Brett’s already so commanding and overwhelming.

  If I lose myself in him and he breaks me, will I ever find my way back?

  It was different with Anthony.

  Not this raw. Not this explosive.

  Not this dangerous.

  Brett is the kind of man who could leave me in pieces.

  Forget walking away.

  I’ll be torn limb from limb.

  But there’
s no going back.

  I’ve already tasted of him.

  I’ve already been branded by him.

  By his lips.

  His mouth.

  His tongue.

  Whatever safety measures I had in place have been blown to pieces. Now I’m just letting the current take me, hoping and praying it doesn’t dash me against the jagged rocks.

  Brett kisses my shoulder again. “I’ve been listening to that album you mentioned.”

  “The country one?” I glance back. Notice the way his silver eyes gleam.

  He has that look on his face.

  The one he wears when he’s about to tease me.

  I like that I’m starting to read him.

  That he feels comfortable enough to be himself around me.

  He’s not all sharp edges and a stern voice.

  Not unless he’s commanding me to take off my panties.

  Brett smirks. “Yup.”

  “And?”

  “Still don’t see the appeal.”

  I laugh. “You don’t appreciate good music that tells a story?”

  “I appreciate good music.”

  “Me and my pick-up truck are offended.”

  “I think that was the name of the last song I listened to.”

  My grin stretches wider.

  I turn the chair the other direction.

  Sigh.

  Brett sets the food down. Uses his free hand to wrap his arm tighter around me. "What was that about?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just…”

  “Tired?” His fingers brush my hair aside. Skim the nape of my neck.

  “Trying not to think too hard.” I turn to face him. “About what happens after.”

  “We do what needs to be done.”

  “Which is?”

  “I’ll throw you on the couch next.”

  I giggle. “Your couch is only good for looks.”

  “That couch is good for a whole lot more.”

  “Sounds like you’ve tested that theory quite a lot, Mr. McQueen.” I pretend to be affronted.

  He shakes his head. “You’d be wrong.”

  “You’re telling me you haven’t… entertained any women in your office?”

  “I have.” His lips curl up. “One.”

  “Just me?”

  He nods.

  I snort. “Yeah, right.”

  “You don’t believe me?” He rumbles.

  “Excuse me while I call your BS.”

  “No one got this close.” He gestures to his surroundings. “I had boundaries.”

  “You? Boundaries? No.”

  He smirks. “Not in my house and not at the office. Those were my two rules.”

  “You broke them for me.”

  His eyes darken. “You’re different.”

  “Oh, am I?” I kiss him softly. Whisper against his lips. “Because I’m not a blonde?”

  Amusement glimmers in his smile. “I’m never living that down, am I?”