"That's a good way of putting it." He exhaled again, blinking hard, rolling his shoulders as if attempting to shirk a huge weight. The broad slabs remained as taut as before. Not stopping to let logic butt in, Brynn reached for both of them, spreading fingers along the firm muscles, gliding back and forth in hopes of helping him a little.
"You care for him a lot." Her soft words reflected how that truth moved her … to feel it as a potent force on the air, so strong and vibrant, despite the asshole behavior Rebel had dished out this afternoon. It spoke volumes about Rhett's character. It was sexy as hell.
"Yeah." It husked fervently from him. "I do." While his words still focused on Rebel, his eyes came alive with a different energy … feeding directly from hers. He let her see every spark of it, too. "But that's because I see all of him-even the parts that never grew up."
She continued rubbing his shoulders. He swayed yet closer. She breathed in, filling her nostrils with his rich smell, all sage and wind and man. With every inch he moved in, he consumed more of her vision … captivated more of her attraction.
"You deserve more, sweetheart. So much more."
His shoulders filled her palms. His scent consumed her senses. And the rest of him …
Dear God, the rest of him.
His chest, proud and high, pecs carved into matching planes of steel. His thighs, like a pair of fleshed-out Sequoias, making even her dancer's muscles feel tiny by comparison. And the bulge of flesh that sprung from between them …
Ohhhh, God.
His cock was firm and hot, burning her belly through his clothes and hers, provoking her stunned gasp as he fit their bodies tighter. Rhett's returning growl was so deep it barely ruffled the air, though the tremors through his body spoke a different message. The quivers permeated Brynn, no longer making it possible to ignore the obvious. First, he'd awakened her emotionally, earning the Viking prince title with his integrity to the mission and his loyalty to Rebel. That weakened her resistance to the rest-to admitting a physical desire that hit like a surprise storm … a force she hadn't endured in a long time.
Screw endurance.
And screw her damn dating diet.
For six months, five days, and almost twelve hours, she'd been a good girl. No military hunks. No delicious G men. Barely any men, period-certainly not the kind she wanted to twine her arms around, stabbing her fingers through thick red-gold hair on the way, while her leg wrapped around a torso that belonged on a Michelangelo statue in an Italian alcove.
Cheat day, girlfriend.
Go big or go home.
Especially if a man is staring like his sunrise won't come unless you do.
She dragged one hand down his nape, the other through the dark gold stubble along the bold line of his jaw … then lifted her face until their lips were just inches apart. Into that tiny space, she whispered the expression of heated need … the acknowledgement of growing desire.
"So what do I deserve?"
Chapter Six
‡
Rhett's lungs pumped. His blood burned. Every pore of his skin seemed to pop open at once, flooding with the anticipation that thickened the air like springtime fog over the Thames. Bloody hell. He hadn't even kissed her yet. But fuck, how he longed to-
Which was why he purposely dragged away.
Not far. Just enough. Giving himself the space to turn his stare into a caress-and a question of its own, too. Did she really want this? Did she really want him after the "fun" she'd already had with Rebel today-or was Moon's detached passion the only "connection" she really wanted from a man? If that was the case, backing off was the best choice. Though this might be only a no-strings stress reliever during a high stress mission, it sure as hell wasn't going to be "detached". He didn't play that cavalier game. Ever.
Once more, he blazed his stare over her face. Gave her no mercy with his scrutiny, taking in every detail of her tawny brows, elegant eyes, regal Renaissance nose … and at last, the lush berry sweeps of her lips …
The moment his gaze touched them, they parted a little.
A little more.
Damn.
Just one little move, nothing as intent as the question she'd just blurted. But little moves were the things that made the hugest differences. They moved plates beneath the Earth. Were the difference between first and second place.
Could transform one question into an invitation for so much more.
A more he could no longer resist-and didn't want to. An offer he accepted as every sexual instinct blazed to life, firing into his muscles, sweeping his mouth down to claim hers with brutal force.
Fuck. Yes.
She was honey sweet and butter smooth, instantly opening up, letting him plunge and stab, sample and savor, taste and drink every drop of her mewling surrender. As he spread her jaw wider, a gorgeous yelp jumped up her throat. Quite possibly, it was the hottest sound he'd ever heard; the hurricane that ripped the moorings off his self-control. If she still harbored any longings for Rebel, he was pretty damn sure he didn't care.
No. He did care-about imprinting so much of himself on her, she'd wonder who the hell Rebel Stafford was, let alone what he'd done to her during the plane ride.
He pulled back to let her get some air. Probably a good idea, since he needed a few hundred inhalations too. As their chests heaved together, he reveled in the feel of her breasts against his sternum, and barely repressed a groan when imagining how they'd feel without clothes, the peaks pebbled and hot against his skin while he slid in and out of her …
That was enough of break time.
Rhett slid his hands away from her face and through her hair, before searching for purchase against the wall. Once he'd planted a firm grip on either side of her head, he lowered his own again-and claimed her mouth with deeper force.
She exploded like fruit on his tongue, tangy and juicy, giving away her rising arousal. He growled low, communicating how thoroughly that pleased him, before wedging his crotch against hers and grinding with purpose.
"Oh!" Her high cry shattered the air. If he had to give up kissing her, that sound made the sacrifice worthwhile. He kicked up one side of his mouth while sliding his bulge along her cleft once more, delighting in the perfect circle of her lips as a result. "Rhett," she exclaimed. "Oh, God … please!"
Did she know what that begging did to his dick? She sure as hell did now. There was no way to disguise how every vein in his shaft pumped with new blood, reacting to the sweet submission in her voice. Still, he was a smart guy. He was damn sure he had her added up, though the equation of her sexuality certainly wasn't two and two made four. She was a goddamn algebra challenge; a submissive who didn't want to be one, a lioness still seeking her lion, but looking in all the wrong jungles.
For now, it was a good option to let her call the shots. He proved it by teasing a chaste little kiss across her forehead before responding, "Please … what? Tell me, sweet peach. What can I do for you? Are you hungry, perhaps? Should we order a pizza?"
She grabbed the back of his head, yanking him down for another kiss. Rhett kept true to his pledge, letting her control every passionate second of it, enduring the extra torture on his cock. "No pizza." Her eyes matched the growl, wildcat bright with lust. She bared her teeth in a gorgeous snarl. Her other hand stabbed between their bodies, reaching for the snap on his pants.
That was enough of that.
He grabbed her wrist. "Don't think so, sweetheart."
Her brows knitted. "Huh? But-"
"You've had your fun. Now it's my turn to take the wheel on this op."
Just as fast, those tawny brows jumped. "That so, soldier? And what if-"
She cut herself off with her own shriek-as he leveraged his hold to hoist her off her feet. When he continued folding her all the way over his shoulder, a second scream followed.
"What. The. Hell?"
Rhett marched toward the wing with the bedrooms. "If this is happening, then it's happening right."
The ranch's master bedroom was at the end of the hall, accessed through double dark wood doors in a dramatic stucco archway. Thick rugs overlapped across the polished wood floor, surrounding a high bed formed of walnut and accented with wrought iron. A glass-walled fireplace faced the bedroom on one side, a sunken tub on the other.
Having played techno-geek throughout the ranch after arriving yesterday, Rhett knew the fireplace was activated by a toggle switch located in the room's lighting control panel, just inside the door. On his way to the bed, he flipped that button and no other. As he'd promised, they were going to do this right, and that included the textbook lighting treatment. If this woman's body was half as exquisite as he imagined, shadows and fire flickers were going to be juuuust fine.