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  His mouth captured mine in a hungry kiss, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip, and when my mouth parted, his tongue stroked mine hypnotically.

  Pushing his hips toward mine, he succeeded in aligning our bodies from chest to thigh. I could feel the way his tense erection strained against his jeans, and, all too aware that he’d touched me but I hadn’t yet touched him, I reached out to rub the front of his pants. I wanted to feel him and his manhood. His hand caught my wrist and lifted it away from the front of his jeans. Pressing a kiss against my wrist, he shook his head. “Greedy little girl.”

  I swallowed roughly, needing to make light of my wanton behavior. “There’s nothing worse than popping the hood and finding inadequate equipment underneath.” I dared a peek down at his crotch, unable to hide my smirk.

  “I think you’ll be more than satisfied with my equipment, miss.”

  “Then let me see.” I rubbed against him again, loving the steely feel of his warm length encased in denim.

  He shook his head. “You will. But not tonight. How about I just taste you instead? I want to lick your pussy again,” he whispered.

  My fingers reflexively tightened around his arm. How could I say no to that? My head gave a little nod and he quickly led me to my bedroom.

  When we reached the darkened room, his fingers laced between mine again, the move possessive and intimate. I liked it way too much. We kissed for several minutes, standing in the center of my bedroom until I felt Braydon’s fingers find the button on my jeans. I wouldn’t stop him now. Couldn’t. My body wanted this.

  Pushing my jeans and panties down from my hips, Braydon suddenly lifted me, tossing me onto my mattress. His strength was unexpected, and I let out a small squeak when I hit the bed.

  Grinning his impish little grin, that sexy dimple taunting me so adorably, he leaned down and kissed my navel. “This okay, baby?” his breath whispered across my belly.

  I nodded, unable to speak. I watched him through lowered lashes. He really was perfect. I could stare at him for hours.

  He removed my shirt, sitting back on his heels to admire me briefly. Then he kissed the top of my pubic bone, taking his time to worship me properly by laying tender kisses all along the top of my sex. In my memories from the wedding, he had proven he was beyond talented at this. I squirmed against the bed, wanting his mouth lower. Wanting to feel his tongue slide against me, but unsure of how to ask for what I needed. Braydon didn’t make me ask. He continued his descent, pushing my thighs apart and out of the way as he lowered his mouth to taste me. I drew in a sharp inhale when his tongue made contact, lazily circling my clit.

  “You like that, kitten?” he whispered softly against my core.

  I let out a ragged breath, whimpering from the loss of contact. “Y-yes . . .”

  Chuckling softly at my response, he kissed me again. He read my body’s signals, using his whole mouth, his tongue, his lips, to kiss me greedily right where I needed him. He adjusted his style to my moans, flicking his tongue ruthlessly against me, increasing his rhythm as my breathy pants increased in volume. I wasn’t shy about letting him know what I liked. What I needed. With other guys, I overthought everything. I worried about my appearance, my scent, if my apartment was clean, if I’d shaved. I wondered if he’d want to stay over and if I had breakfast food in the house to make him something in the morning that would impress him—the list went on. With Braydon, I stayed in the moment. He made me feel comfortable enough that none of the superficial bullshit mattered. It was refreshing.

  His long index finger penetrated me and my back arched off the bed at the invasion. God, that felt incredible. His tongue continued its lazy strokes while his finger curled toward my inside wall and lightly rubbed. The pleasure was like nothing else. His skill was too much. My whole world came undone. I pushed my fingers into his hair and tugged him closer, shamelessly rocking my hips as I came.

  Dizzy and disoriented, I became aware of Braydon pulling the comforter up around me and tucking me into bed. “Good night, gorgeous. Get some sleep.”

  Once again he didn’t expect anything in return. I would have felt bad if I could have moved just then. But I wouldn’t have been much use to him in that moment. I was warm and sleepy and incredibly relaxed, so I just nodded.

  He pressed a soft kiss to my mouth. “Do you need to lock up behind me?”

  “Yes, please.” Oops. I’d forgotten about that. I crawled from the bed and accepted his proffered hand, letting him guide me to the front door.

  “Everything okay, kitten?”

  “Yes, tonight was . . . interesting.”

  He smiled his crooked grin that made my heart kick up a notch. “Interesting good or interesting bad?”

  “Good, I think.”

  He lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed the tops of my fingers, his eyes on mine. “It will be. I promise.” His words sent a rush through me. “Night. Sleep well.”

  “Night,” I whispered back.

  The door closed behind him and I slid to the floor in a boneless heap.

  Fuck. I was already in over my head.

  4

  I should’ve just cut my losses but I knew I wouldn’t. Spending time with Braydon made me feel alive and desirable in a way I hadn’t felt before. I wasn’t ready to give that up. Besides, part of me felt a little guilty that both times we’d hooked up had been solely about me. I hadn’t returned the favor and I was dying with curiosity to know if the chemistry we had would translate into mind-blowing sex. I wanted to touch and explore the body I’d admired from afar since the moment I’d met him.

  So when he texted me later that week, it was with shaky fingers that I pondered what to write back.

  Braydon: Hey gorgeous. How’s your day?

  Me: Hey. It’s fine. It’s been a long day and I could use a massage.

  Braydon: Let me come over tonight and I’ll give you a gentle massage from the inside out. ;)

  This was how it started. Naughty texts. Flirty comments. My heart squeezed tightly in my chest. There was no denying I wanted to see him tonight. To see his big smile light up his face and watch his playful eyes dance on mine. I wanted to poke fun at him and hear him chuckle. I just liked being near him.

  I still hadn’t responded when he sent another text.

  Braydon: Shall I bring dinner again?

  Me: Sure. I’m craving Italian.

  Braydon: One extra-large Italian sausage cumming right up. See you at 7.

  I laughed out loud and stuffed my phone back in my purse. Tonight should be interesting.

  • • •

  When Braydon arrived promptly at seven, I was wrestling a cork from a bottle of wine in the kitchen. I needed some liquid courage tonight. When the buzzer sounded from the intercom on my wall, I abandoned the wine to buzz him in. A few moments later, I pulled open the front door to discover a deliciously polished Braydon. Gone were his beat-up Converse sneakers and his vintage tees. He was dressed in a button-down shirt and dark gray slacks, his hair neatly combed and ready to be tugged on. I held my breath as I drank him in and his lips smirked.

  “Hiya, kitten.”

  “Come in.” I pushed open the door and he followed me inside. I headed back to the kitchen to finish fighting with the wine bottle. Braydon chuckled at me and promptly removed it from my hands, easily finishing the job and pouring each of us a glass.

  We sipped our wine while Braydon unloaded the cartons of food he’d brought. Fettuccine Alfredo with chicken, rosemary Parmesan breadsticks, spaghetti carbonara, and antipasto salad. Once again he’d brought more than enough food for just us. I could get used to eating delicious leftovers from our takeout dinners. I had just finished the Thai.

  The aroma was heavenly as he dished up hearty servings into the bowls I provided. “This smells great. Where’d you get it?”

  “Giovanni’s. It’s a hole in the wall, but the food is fantastic.” He twirled a forkful of pasta and held it up, intending to feed me the bite. “Open,” he commanded.
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  I obeyed, accepting a mouthful of spaghetti. My eyes slipped closed, savoring the subtle flavors of homemade pasta, black pepper, and crisp bacon. It was delicious. And I liked that he fed me. I accepted another bite while Braydon’s eyes watched my mouth. The temperature in my apartment seemed to ratchet up in an instant. I licked my bottom lip and chewed slowly, swallowing the bite of food while his breathing grew shallow.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, his voice low and commanding.

  I nodded slowly. It was as if he could tell when I was retreating into my head to overthink everything and knew when to distract me to keep me from questioning things between us.

  “Good. Let’s eat.” We sat down at the table that I used so rarely, though we’d used it two times together this week already. We even had our own spots at the table. A little routine was developing.

  “You’re dressed up,” I noticed, taking him in.

  “I had casting calls today. Dress to impress.”

  I nodded. Made sense.

  “How was your day?” he asked, taking a bite of his dinner.

  “Good, actually. I’ve been giving our arrangement more thought, too.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Well, you want to be penis pals . . .”

  His brow creased as he squinted at me. “Not exactly. I hope you don’t have a penis, kitten.”

  I frowned at him. “Fine then. You want to be best friends with my vagina.”

  His head cocked to the side and a slow smile overtook his mouth. “I thought I already was.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Unfortunately, you do seem to be.” My eyes dropped to my plate and I twirled strands of pasta onto my fork. I didn’t know how to ask about our arrangement and stared down at my food, poking at the lump of pasta, hoping he’d pick up the conversation where I’d dropped it. Only he didn’t.

  “Eat up.” Braydon grinned, his dimple peeking at me. “You’ll need your energy.”

  Yes, sir. “So bossy.” I shook my head.

  We kept up a casual conversation through dinner, enjoying good food, pleasant company, and the easy conversation that flowed so well between us. But I didn’t find the courage to bring up our arrangement again. And Braydon didn’t push it. This was all so new to me. I was hoping he’d take the lead, but so far he seemed content to discuss my job, local sports teams—anything but why he was here.

  Soon, we were both full and Braydon was helping me pack up the leftovers. I wanted to inquire about his diet requirements for his job, but I didn’t want him to stop feeding me like this. I was getting spoiled already and I liked it.

  I lingered in the kitchen, wiping a nonexistent spot on the counter.

  “Hey.” His hand curled around my shoulder pulled me from my thoughts. “Whatcha thinking about?”

  “Nothing,” I lied. Everything. This. Us. How much better homemade pasta is than boxed. Why your dimple makes me weak in the knees.

  “Come sit down. Finish your wine.” He refilled my glass, pouring a healthy amount.

  “Trying to get me drunk?” I smiled.

  “Will that work?”

  I shook my head slowly. “Nope.”

  “I know.” His thumb traced the crease between my brows. “You’re too smart for that.” His thumb stroked the spot again before he lowered his hand. “It’s something I like about you. But sometimes you’ve got to stop thinking so hard and just feel. See where things take you.”

  I brought my glass to my lips and took a fortifying swallow. He was right. I wanted to feel alive. To have a naughty little escapade. My life was so mapped out and organized, just him being here threw off my routine in a good way. Normally I’d be in pajamas, flipping mindlessly through the channels and feeling sorry for myself. Or worse, torturing myself by trolling the Internet, looking at my friends’ pages on social media and seeing engagement rings and baby bumps.

  “There, that’s better.” He could read me way too well. It was like he could see the exact moment my brain stopped fighting my body and I mentally gave in. “Don’t be scared. I won’t bite.” He narrowed his eyes. “Actually I might. But you’ll like it.”

  Pressing his fingertips into my lower back, he guided me to the living room and we settled on the sofa. I pulled my legs up and hugged my knees, suddenly feeling contemplative. How was it that this man I’d known only a short time could read me better than anyone?

  Braydon watched me carefully, moving the throw pillow between us to the floor, as if needing to remove any and all physical barriers between us. “Tell me something, kitten, because I won’t pressure you into this. I won’t make you do something you don’t want. How sure are you about this arrangement I’ve proposed?”

  No thinking, Ellie. Feeling only. “No one has ever made me come like you have,” I admitted softly. Holy crap! I can’t believe I just said that.

  “I’m just getting started, baby. I can’t wait to show you all the things I can do to your body.”

  Sucking in a soft inhale, I unconsciously leaned closer, letting him draw me into his orbit. He pressed forward and touched his lips softly to mine, lingering there, not rushing me, and in turn making me crave him even more. His breath mingled with mine, the soft warmth teasing me, promising a raw heat between us, if only I’d give in. Give up control. I brought my hands up and pushed them into his hair, rumpling it into a sexy disarray, just like I’d wanted to do when I’d opened the door earlier tonight and seen it styled neatly. I clutched his dark locks between my fingers and forced him closer, kissing his full mouth like I wanted to, giving in to my body.

  He groaned into my mouth, matching the intensity of my kiss and massaging my tongue with his. He tasted of wine. It was intoxicating. He pulled my hand into his lap and pressed it to the erection pushing against his zipper. “See what you do to me. You get me so worked up just by being near me.” My hand curled around him and I squeezed, enjoying the soft way his breath pushed past his parted lips. Suddenly rising from the couch, Braydon found my hand and tugged me up. “Take me to your bedroom.”

  I nodded and guided him down the hall.

  We fell back onto my bed, which I’d made that morning in anticipation of our date—er, arrangement. He pushed my thighs apart with his knee, caged me in with his firm body, and kissed my neck, trailing rough kisses and small nips. It felt forbidden and intoxicating. He was marking my flesh, and I wanted to wear the evidence of this erotic encounter tomorrow. I couldn’t resist rocking my hips and pushing myself onto his thigh, needing contact against my swollen, achy center. Lifting himself off me just briefly, Braydon unbuttoned and unzipped my pants and slid them, along with my panties, down my legs before I even knew what was happening. But we both knew I wasn’t about to stop him. I was whimpering with need and squirming already.

  I sat up and pulled my T-shirt over my head then reached behind me to unclasp my bra. I wanted to be bold just then. To undress for him. Not some quick and dirty fuck. I wanted to take my time. Get the full experience, in case this was it—all I would get from him.

  Braydon watched in wonder as I let my bra drop away from my shoulders, but at the last possible second I brought my hands up to cover my naked breasts. Maybe I wasn’t so brave after all.

  “No.” He shook his hand, his fingers circling my wrists. “I want to see all of you. Don’t hide from me.”

  My heart pounded steadily and I let him pull my hands away, baring myself to him fully. His eyes lingered on mine just a moment before sliding down my chest.

  He swallowed roughly. “Perfect. Gorgeous tits. Never hide these.” His head lowered and without warning he began sucking on my breast, his tongue circling my nipple, his teeth lightly grazing the peak, drawing it into a hardened bud. Damn, that felt incredible. He wasn’t shy about using his teeth. And he did so expertly, eliciting pleasure from my body in ways I’d never even imagined. I slipped my fingers into his hair again and pressed my breasts forward with a low moan. Sparks of primal n
eed coursed through my system. He captured my wrists, pinning them at my sides. Oops. Maybe I’d been pulling his hair a little too hard.

  “Sorry,” I murmured.

  His mouth pulled suddenly from my breast. “I love when you play with my hair. I just want you focused on feeling the sensations I give you rather than touching me.”

  Oh. He was too thoughtful. Too in tune with my body. It sent a shudder through me.

  He continued licking and nipping at my breasts, the warm pad of his tongue sending pulses of pleasure through me. He was right; the sensations were stronger when I wasn’t preoccupied with touching him. I closed my eyes and just let myself feel. He slowly moved lower, planting soft kisses against my rib cage, my belly, as he made his way south. My pulse spiked in anticipation, already imagining his skilled tongue against me. But rather than obliging me with his mouth at my core, he positioned himself lower on the bed, between my parted legs, and observed me writhing for him with a tug pulling his mouth upward. I hated how he alone could turn me into a wanton creature, so ready to dive off the deep end with him. I reached for him, wanting to pull him closer, and my fists twisted in the folds of his shirt.

  He had far too many clothes on. I wanted to see him, to feel his warm skin, to breathe him in. I began tugging at his clothing. “Your shirt.”

  He looked down.

  “Take it off,” I said breathily.

  “Anything for you.” He unbuttoned just the first few buttons then pulled it over his head.

  “Your pants, too,” I begged.

  He made quick work of his belt and then pushed his pants down his hips in one quick movement, discarding them beside the bed. I couldn’t help but steal a peek. My gaze wandered down the length of his lean torso, taking him in. He was masculine. Beautiful. Toned and solid from his broad chest to his chiseled abs to his . . . wait. He dropped his boxer briefs to the floor and looked up at me. I couldn’t help my eyes from widening, and then squeezing closed. Holy shit!