Page 18 of The Best Man Wins

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” I breathe.

His eyebrows crumple together. “You’re an optimistic, naïve, pain in the ass, but there’s something about you that gets under my skin.”

It’s not exactly an on-one-knee kind of commitment, but his eyes are strangely vibrant, open and honest. There is not a lot that Braxton West likes, so I’m content to be one of his current most favorite things.

“I like you,” I tell him. “Even if you’re part-Eeyore.”

“You like my tongue,” he clarifies.

“Well, yes.” I hook my arms loosely around his neck, giving him no room to escape from my compliments. I will smother this man in love if that’s what it takes to get the darkness out of his eyes. “You’re not a bad guy, Braxton West. Not as much as you want to be, anyway.”

“You say that now,” he says as he uses his grip on my lower back to line my body flush against his. “But you haven’t seen all the terrible things I plan to do to you.”

I lean in and brush my lips against his. When he moves in for the kiss, I pull back, keeping myself just out of reach. I feel his frustrated sigh against my mouth, and it makes me smile.

“Then give me a taste,” I whisper. “Or are you all bark and no bite, Braxton West—?”

I gasp when he surprises me with a rough kiss. “Oh, I bite,” he growls. He sucks my bottom lip between his teeth and sinks his teeth in. I whimper when he releases me with a nibble and seals it with a sweet kiss.

His lips graze my jaw, then my throat, and then I feel him working the tender skin with his greedy kisses. I’m instantly wet. I feel a low, needy pulse between my legs, and when my thighs clamp together for relief, they slip. He spreads my legs forcibly and yanks my panties down so they drop to my ankles. A leg hole catches on my boot, limiting my movements, but I can’t be bothered. Not with the way his intense, dark eyes lock on mine and refuse to let go.

I feel exposed under my dress now, and a light breeze chills my damp skin, making me shiver. Braxton warms me up, reaching under my dress to cup my sex. He pets two fingers over my petals, and I heat up quickly, my blood pulsing. “Do you always get this wet this quickly,” he asks, “or is this just for me?”

My face goes tomato red, and I stumble over my tongue for a moment. “I don’t…I’m not sure…”

The corner of his mouth quirks, and it’s almost a smile—a rare and actual smile on Braxton West’s face. “You’re incredibly adorable,” he says. Of course he’d get off on my shame. Instead of furthering my belittlement, however, he surprises me by saying, “Don’t be embarrassed. I love how aroused you get. You have no idea how hard that makes me.”

I bite my lip. I can still feel his phantom teeth marks. “Someone’s going to see us,” I tell him.

“Let them.” His eyes flash. “I need you now.”

Braxton pins me up against the fence and claims my mouth in a kiss. His lips break only to trail down my throat, kissing, nipping, and sucking until I’m whimpering, half in pain, half in pleasure. I reach down and unbuckle his belt quickly, unzipping his pants. I cup his groin over his briefs and gasp. “You weren’t lying,” I murmur. He is hard, very much so, testing the elasticity of the thin fabric that struggles to hold him in.

I need him suddenly. Terribly. Luckily, he doesn’t need an invitation. He spreads my legs, presses his body flush against mine, positions his hips, and—oh God. The head of him presses between my legs, and then the rest of him, until he’s fully sheathed inside of me. He fills me, completes me, and reaches places inside of me that make my toes curl.

I can’t catch my breath. I feel like some kind of wild woman, having sex in the middle of an open field, up against a wooden fence. The soft breeze batters my hair across my face, and I grip Braxton’s arms. I feel the bulge of his biceps as he lifts me on top of the fence, holding my legs apart. My hands travel down, slipping underneath his shirt to feel the heat of his skin before cupping his ass, keeping him deep inside of me.

I let his jacket fall from my shoulders to give me more room to grab him, to cling. His body heat is all the warmth I need. His hand climbs my arm and, gently, he rubs a thumb over a raised scar on my bicep. “Is this…?”

“Yeah. Birth control.” I got the implant around the same time I started dating Ace—which was one less thing to worry about. I lower my voice and tell him: “So you can…you know. Inside of me.”

“Good to know.” His voice is a low growl, and it vibrates through me.

Braxton is a force of nature. He’s a poised man, practiced and deliberate, and it’s something else to see him like this, his slacks undone, his shirt wrinkled, his perfect hair mussed in the breeze. Just when I think Braxton can’t get any hotter, he loses his tightly wound composure—for me—and I drown in a new wave of arousal. His head hangs beside mine as he swivels his hips against mine. Each stroke sends me deeper into oblivion, my pleasure growing hotter and more intense.

We’re wild animals. For a second, I forget about the wedding, my tight schedule, and my nagging ex. Instead, all I can think about is each new height of passion Braxton stirs inside of me with every deep, hard thrust. He doesn’t treat me like I’m breakable or delicate—instead, he gives it to me, knowing full well I can take whatever he throws my way.

And I can. I’m teetering on the edge of an orgasm and I wrap my arms and legs around him, holding onto him tightly. He smells like autumn leaves, wet river, and Braxton’s own personal overpriced musk. My thighs begin to quiver, and my insides grow tight. I grab his curly hair, throw my head back and—

—cry out! I come crashing over the edge, violently, and my body throbs in rapid pulses around him. Braxton doesn’t let up, not right away, and he draws out my orgasm until he spills over as well. I feel it, burning hot inside of me, and I lock my legs around his hips to keep him deep inside of me for just a moment longer.

We both catch our breath in the moments that pass. The wind rustles the leaves on the trees, and the woods shiver and shudder. Eventually, we have to pull ourselves together.

“Are you ready for me to pull out?” Braxton asks. His tone is unnaturally considerate.

I nod. “Yes.”

He eases out of me, and I immediately feel the absence of him. Braxton shifts slightly to fix his pants back over his hips, his belt clicking into place. I too shift, lowering my heels back down to the ground before I yank my panties back under my dress.

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