Page 100 of Dublin Brute

He pulls the tie of the thick bathrobe wrapped around me and opens things up to gain access. The slight roughness of his calloused hands gliding over my skin makes me even hotter for him.

“Do you remember what I said last night about spoiling you?” He closes the inches between our mouths and captures my lip between his teeth. The pressure makes me whimper and then he releases me to kiss away the sting. “What you want, you shall have, from now on.”

He trails his kiss down the column of my throat, nipping at the pulse racing beneath his touch. The blankets and my robe are annoying, but he shoves them out of the way, so nothing is between us.

Finding the small of my back, he pulls me closer and then rolls me backward. I love how confident he is with my body, how he takes control and takes what he wants with me. Sinfully soft kisses trail down my collarbone and across the heaving rise of my breast.

“Hello, lovely.” He takes my nipple into his hot mouth, and I arch into the contact.

My hands fist in his thick hair and pull him closer. His fingers slide down my body, brushing over the tender flesh of my belly until he’s slicking them through my damp folds.

“I believe you mentioned mind-shattering orgasms?”

“I did.” A wave of euphoria washes over me and I revel in the sensation.

I don’t begin to understand the sexual vibration that hums through my body when I’m near him. It’s arousal, but it’s so much more. It’s belonging. It’s possession. It’s knowing that this is where I’m meant to be. Like this. With him.

Maybe Brendan is right and the Celtic goddess,Áinereally did bring us together.

“I want inside you, angel. I have condoms, but I swear I’m clean. If you’re?—”

“I have an implant. I’m clean.”

“So, can I?”

The thought of having Brendan bare and inside me makes makes wetness rush between my thighs. I open my legs for him in invitation. The smile he flashes me is nothing sort of breathtaking.

He groans, and hot pleasure sears my core. “Thank you, angel. I’m so fucking honored.”

If this is how the other half live, sign me up. The orgasms, the bubble baths, and lounging around half naked with a chiseled god of a man.

I stretch like a contented cat on the leather couch as Brendan moves through Tag’s loft with the grace of a predator. He’s shirtless, wearing only fitted black boxers, and I can’t take my eyes off the play of muscles across his back.

He catches me ogling him and waggles his dark brows. “Like what you see, angel?”

“Very much. I was just sitting here, thinking that you could be the model for DaVinci’s Vitruvian man. Your proportions are perfect.”

He chuckles. “Is that the naked guy in the circle with his arms out to his sides?”

“That’s the one. The drawing represented Leonardo’s concept of the perfect body composition. We studied it in our life drawing class. That model has nothing on you.”

“Och, I consider that high praise coming from a seasoned artist like yourself.”

I laugh and tug the lapels of my fuzzy bathrobe tighter together. “Hardly. I am an amateur at best. It’s been so long, I’m not even sure I can call myself that.”

Brendan disappears into the bedroom. Before he returns, he calls out. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.” His voice carries that commanding edge that makes my toes curl.

I comply, tracking him as his footsteps approach. Something lands in my lap with a soft thump, and I instinctively press my hands on it.

“You can open your eyes now.”

My breath catches as I register his gift. In my hands is a leather-bound sketchbook, its pages thick and creamy. Beside it lies a set of charcoal pencils, the kind I used to spend hours with before life got in the way.

I trace the gold lettering of my name embossed in the leather cover of the book. “This is beautiful, Brendan. Thank you.”

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