“So that’s how Will Thatcher makes love,” she said dreamily between kisses.
He moved his mouth to her closed eyelids, kissing them each in turn before planting a lingering kiss on her forehead.
“No. This is.”
Her legs fell open against the gentle pressure of his hands, and she felt the tip of him against her sensitive opening before he pressed all the way in. Her eyes squeezed shut at the perfection of the moment, and her mind had the fleeting, alarming thought that this is where she belonged. Always. He stayed still, waiting for her to open her eyes. When she did, Will gave the tiniest of nods as though confirming her traitorous thoughts. As though confirming that she was his. But then he started moving, and her thoughts were pushed aside by pure sexual pleasure.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, giving herself over to him, but instead of taking her harder, he kept the pace steady and slow until she thought she’d die from anticipation.
Wanting to send him over the edge like he had her, Brynn moved quickly, catching him off guard enough to give her the chance to roll him onto his back.
His eyes widened slightly as she raked nails over his chest before she took him inside her with deliberate precision, watching his face tense as she took him inch by inch.
“Brynn,” he said hoarsely.
She allowed herself a small smile, even though she could barely think. “I like when you say my name too.”
His hands found her hips, and Brynn began to ride him, refusing to let herself worry about all her sharp angles, or how small her breasts must look.
She only cared about making Will feel.
Only cared about Will.
He tried to maintain the tantalizing slowness of before, but she wouldn’t let him, moving faster and faster, milking him for everything he had. Only when his eyes squeezed shut in that way that told her he was close did she slide a hand down her belly to touch herself, moving her hand and hips in rhythm until Will let out a hoarse guttural cry, his body arching toward hers just as Brynn exploded for the second time.
Brynn tried to ease herself down gently, but her muscles didn’t seem to work, and instead she collapsed awkwardly on his chest.
Will didn’t seem to mind, instead wrapping shaking arms around her narrow back, and holding her pressed against his furry chest.
They were both damp and sweaty and panting, and it should have been gross, but instead it was unexpectedly perfect.
Eventually he rolled her off him so she was lying on her side. He pulled the blanket up over her shoulder as he pushed her hair back from her face.
“You hungry?” he asked. “I got some of that stinky bleu cheese you like. And the weird rice crackers that taste like air, except without as much flavor.”
She smiled and wiggled closer. “Later. Can we…can we sleep like this? Together?”
His eyes went soft as he eased back down beside her. “Of course we can.”
Brynn smiled into his crinkly chest hair and let her eyes close as the aftermath of two fantastic orgasms settled her.
But the subconscious was a wily little happiness-wrecker, and before she drifted off to sleep, she kept picturing Will’s face as it had looked when he’d first laid her on the blanket.
Brynn, I…
What had he been about to say?
And why had she been so desperate to make sure he didn’t?
CHAPTER NINETEEN
There’s no shame in being in love with your car
eer.
—Brynn Dalton’s Rules for an
Exemplary Life, #6