“God, woman, you’re freezing,” he whispered. “Come here.” Taking me by the hand, he led me to his bed where he yanked all the bedcovers off at once. He piled two pillows in my arms and we dragged everything over to the stove and threw it down on the floor in front of it. He smiled at me. “Sit.”
I did, and he followed and threw himself down beside me. We faced the stove, only a few feet away, and I held my hands out to reach the warmth. He did it, too. I wanted him to touch me, kiss me, and, well, everything. My insides were writhing with need, and the sensation excited and confused me at once. Brax must have sensed my frustration because he looked at me, and the fiery gleam in his eyes made me pause.
Then I reached up and yanked his hat off. Tossed it on the floor.
A slow smile grew on Brax’s beautifully scarred face from the corners out, and he flipped my hat off, too, and in one smooth motion peeled my arms out of my jacket, followed by his, and laid me back against the comforter. Bracing his weight on his elbows, he hovered over me. His gaze dragged over my features, one at a time, and my heart slammed against my ribs at the seductiveness of it. With nimble fingers he unsnapped the buttons on my shirt and opened it, revealing my thermal, and he placed his palm over the left side of my chest. Over my heart.
“You can trust me with this, Gracie,” he said quietly. He said nothing more, just stared at me with those eerie eyes filled with desire. And something else.
“I know,” I answered, and I brushed my fingertips over the dark scruff on his jaw. “I think I always knew.”
Brax stared at me for a long time, then slowly lowered his mouth to mine. When our lips met, the turmoil inside me quickened, and my hands found their way around his neck and I pulled him closer. He kissed me so thoroughly, tasting the corners of my mouth, my top lip, the bottom one, his tongue grazing mine and me savoring it. My lips were numb, my heart beat fast, my nerve endings on fire from his touch. Brax’s hands moved over my clothed body, and it wasn’t nearly close enough. He wasn’t close enough, and I desperately tugged at his shirt, the buttons of his jeans, and pushed at his boots with mine. My body writhed beneath his, and he took the cue. Our movements weren’t slick, smooth, or movie-worthy. We jerked and yanked each others clothes off, awkward and fast, and it wasn’t until we had every stitch off that we were satisfied. Brax lay over me, one heavy thigh trapping both of mine, and his hand moved in the gentlest caress from my face, to my collar bone, to my breast. As he touched, he kissed; when I exhaled, he inhaled, swallowing my breath, and he traced strong fingertips over my stomach, my navel, my hips. His touch set my nerves on edge; I felt hot, and the desire inside of me grew to a pitch that had me frenzied. He unraveled my braid, his hand burying in my hair. My fingers dug into the muscles of his broad back, his biceps, and we moved in sync, fever pitch for fever pitch.
At once he was between my thighs, and Brax grabbed his discarded jeans. He lifted a small wrapper to his mouth, tore it with his teeth, and stretched a condom over his hardened length. “Don’t close your eyes, Gracie,” he said, then leaned over, dragged his mouth over mine. “Watch what you do to me.”
When I drew my next breath Brax pushed into me, and I gasped but kept my eyes on his. He filled me, exquisitely, and I lifted my hips a bit to take him in just a little more. Not close enough. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he let out a groan that sounded almost painful.
“Jesus, Gracie,” he said hoarsely, and started to move against me. His mouth descended on mine, and his kiss matched his thrusts, and I saw the desire in his eyes because I didn’t close mine. I watched. He watched. And we moved together, faster, and a slow, tumultuous storm grew in strength between us until the waves crashed over us both, simultaneously, one after another until I bucked and became breathless.
“Brax,” I whispered. My hands gripped him as he sagged against me, and I tasted the salty sweat of his skin as I kissed his shoulder.
He raised his head and looked down at me, pressed his lips to first my forehead, then my mouth. He kissed me long. Thorough. Sweet.
“God, Gracie,” he whispered, then completely enveloped my body with his arms, rolled off to the side and pulled me tightly against him.
We laid together, my head against his chest; his rapid heart beating against my ear. I knew I loved him. I felt he loved me.
Neither of us said it, though.
I wondered about that.
But as contentment washed over me, so complete and absolute, I decided not to ponder it too much. It—Brax—felt too right to worry. I closed my eyes and drifted fast asleep, wrapped in Brax’s arms.