Page 19 of Chasing the Fall

“Want what?” His voice is velvet with rough undertones, making every nerve stand on end. He reaches out and tucks a single piece of hair behind my ear, his fingers ghosting over my skin and sending waves of something that feels like electricity over the exposed area.

I swallow and fix my gaze on the wall of his chest in front of me. His touch shouldn’t make my heart beat faster, but it does, and I hate him for it.

“Just…stop. That’s all.” I try to hide the way he affects me, but it’s clear as day in the breathiness of my words. I dig deep for a shred of boldness. “There’s no reason for you to be looking, anyway. Even if my cousin wouldn’t kill you, there’s nothing here to drool over. I don’t even bother shaving my legs in the wintertime.”

That eyebrow lifts further. “Is that so?” He takes another step, and reflexively, I take one back. He’s so freaking large.

The counter bumps the small of my back, locking me in place. His hands grip the counter on either side of me, caging me in. He is so close, too close.

“Y-yes. My pits, either. Or…you know.” I can’t stop the lie from slipping between my lips, but maybe, for once, it's a good thing? Maybe I will say the wrong thing, and he’ll back away.

Give me some breathing room.

A smile plays at the corners of his lips, though, like he’s trying not to laugh, and he moves closer still. “What if I said I don’t believe you?”

My next words emerge as a whisper. “I swear it. I’m hairy as fuck. It’s very gross.”

“Mm. You know, Tallulah, I don’t think I care.” His head tilts, and he leans down so close I can feel his body heat through my leggings and sweater. I can taste his breath on my lips, and it just makes me want more. “What if I told you only little boys with tiny little pricks give a fuck about a woman embracing her natural beauty?” That tiny smile widens, becomes a bona fide grin with an edge of wickedness. “And I think you and I both know there isn’t a single thing about me that’s little.”

His hands move to my waist and slide down to my hips.

“Bran…” His name is barely a whisper on my lips, and I don’t even know what I am asking him for.

He lifts me onto the counter like I weigh nothing. Compared to what he’s able to lift, I probably don’t.

“I think you’re worth it,” he muses, his voice quieter now and the smile faded. Pressing his forehead to mine, he allows his hands to move back up my body, stopping just before they reach my breasts.

I arch toward him. Every nerve in my body is alive, waiting for him to touch more of me. I manage a whisper in reply.

“Worth what?”

His eyes meet mine, dark and determined. “Risking my life for just a taste. Even if it costs my life, it’ll be worth it to ruin you for every other man who even dares to look at you.”

With that vow, he dips his head and slams his mouth against mine.

There’s nothing tentative or hesitant about the way he claims my lips. Our first kiss, it’s nothing like I had imagined—it’s so much more. In the space it takes my heart to give a single hard thump within my chest, my eyes fall closed and my head tilts back, surrendering to the hot press of lips, the scratch of his beard, and the punishing demands of his tongue.

He surrounds me. Not just physically caging me in as he stands between my thighs, but in the way he envelops me in his scentand taste and strength, and holiest of all things holy, I am here for it.

A sound escapes my lips, thin and high-pitched. A whimper of need and a plea all rolled into that one utterance. Bran seems to understand exactly what I need. He grasps my thighs and lifts them to his hips, pulling me forward so I can feel him through my leggings. My legs curl around his waist instantly, without conscious direction, my feet not quite touching at the small of his back.

I feel him, hard and solid against my core, as he settles more comfortably into the vee formed by my hips, and I can’t stop myself from rocking against him.

More.I need more of that delicious friction. Heat and pleasure lick up my spine as he rocks into me, and I know he knows exactly what he is doing to me.

Panic flares, intruding cold and numbing into the heated sensation he’s drowning me in. He’s so much older than I am, so much more experienced. What if he doesn’t like…what if I don’t—

“Hey. Where’d you go?”His gaze feels heavy as he watches me again, measuring my responses, like he is studying me, finding the best way to take me apart and put me back together again.

I lift my chin. How hard can it be? I’m a fast learner.

“Right here,” I murmur. My teeth sink into my bottom lip as my fingers twist into his shirt and pull upward in a silent demand.Bran complies, allowing an inch between us as he tugs his shirt over his head and throws it to the side somewhere.

His skin is hot and tensile, silk over acres of hard muscle with just the right amount of hair. He’s such aman. I hum in appreciation and take my time running my fingers over his skin, feeling the way those muscles flex under my fingers as I run my palms over the light furring of chest hair that covers his pounding heart.

He lets me explore him only for a moment before he slides his hands under my sweater and tugs it up and over my head. I go still as he studies me almost reverently, taking in the plain black cotton cupping my breasts.

Does he like them? Are they too small? Too big? Uneven? I can’t tell what he is thinking, and it’s driving me crazy. I look down at myself. “I—”

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