Page 71 of Holly Freakin' Hughes

Againstmy neck, she shook her head. “No, you’ve been calling the shots for too long.Tell me whatever you want later, but I wantthisnow.”

Onehand left my hair and the fingers trickled like water around my neck, down mychest, and past the waistband of my jeans. I groaned inwardly at the softwarmth of her fingers against the evidence of my rock-hard desire to have her,and the grip around me warranted a sharp intake of breath into my lungs. Myeyes closed with the immediate decision that she was right, I was wrong, andnothing was more important in that moment than burying myself between thoselegs.

Withher hand slowly working against me, she pressed her lips against the sensitiveflesh of my earlobe. “Okay,” she said huskily, drawing the sensitive skin intoher mouth to nibble a little, and I responded with another groan as my eyesrolled upward. “Now, take me to your room.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT

HOLLY

Itried remembering the lasttimeI had basked in the afterglow of an almostearth-shattering session of orgasms, and I came up with absolutely nothing.Zilch. Nada. Even the last time Stephen and I had sex, if I could recall thatlast time accurately, it had been nothing more than a ten-minute session toreach the inevitable goal. Almost a job, really.

Howhad I allowed myself to spend five years in a relationship like that? How couldI have given myself permission to always come last, both literally andfiguratively? How had I permitted myself to go so long with settling foranything less than what I had there in Brandon’s bed?

Butit had been so much more than feeling good. So much more thansex. Itwas as though I finally understood why they called it making love, with hiseyes boring into mine while our bodies moved together and became one in afervent ball of limbs and fistfuls of hair. We had created something amazing inthose moments when my legs were wrapped around his waist, clutching his body tomy chest in desperation while he sunk his teeth into my flesh, and it had beensealed with the simultaneous release of our rattle-the-bedframe orgasms.

Isniffed a laugh to myself as the cheesy thought crossed my mind, but I couldn’tdeny that that’s exactly what had happened.

“Hmm?”Brandon questioned sleepily, the heat of his naked body pressing against meunder the dark sheets of his bed. His hand was resting against the curve of mystomach, moving side to side lightly with his palm and fingers in a lightmassage.

“I’mjust thinking,” I said lightly, hugging my arms over my chest and sighinghappily.

Holycrap. I’m actuallyhappy.

“Areyou going to elaborate, or do I have to use other methods to get it out ofyou?” His hand began a descent, tickling against the sensitive folds beforeslipping a finger between them. “My God, how are you still so wet …”

“Takeit as a compliment,” I said with a moan, and he pressed himself into my thigh,hardening with every stroke between my legs. “Gee, I’m honored.”

“Youreally should be,” he growled, as his hand continued its manipulation. He movedhis mouth to my neck, his lips hot against my skin. “So, what are you thinkingabout?”

Pressingmy hips against his hand, I sighed. “I was just thinking about how … I’ve neverknown … what making love feels like … until tonight.”

Helifted his head from my neck, looking at me with an expression I couldn’tdecipher. His eyes flitted from my lips to my hair and then settled on my eyes,and the corner of his mouth twitched. “I thought the same thing,” he said withastonishment, pulling his hand away from the wonderful torment to rest it againon my stomach as he leaned in to kiss me.

“Wait,you didn’t tell me you were going to stop if I told you,” I said, protestingwith a laugh. A thought passed through my mind then, and I bit my lip beforeasking. “Weren’t you engaged?”

“Yes,and you wanted to be,” he reminded me before landing another soft kiss againstmy bitten lip.

“Buthe was my first love. It was … different,” I said, wondering if I had ever actuallybeen in love with Stephen when I had never felt for him the way I did then.

“Andshe was mine,” he stated, his eyes taking on a dreamy gaze, as thoughrevisiting her in his mind, and I at once felt a little prick of jealousy.

Theywere engaged. There was another woman he wanted to marry. Would there ever be atime when he’d want to marry me?

Buta second later, he came back to me and looked firmly into my eyes. “That wasnothing compared to this, though. I couldn’t give everything up for her. She wantedme to and I couldn’t do it. I wanted other things more at that point, but thereis nothing I want more than this. Absolutely nothing.”

Myarms came down against my sides, suddenly warmed by the impact of his romantic babbling.“What the hell are you talking about?”

Heremained silent, though, and I drew my own conclusions, remembering what he hadsaid about her months before at the diner: she hadn’t wanted him to be happy,whatever that meant. I assumed that meant he was willing to give up whatever itwas that had made him happy, and with that assumption, my heart swelled.

Brandonwas propped up on an elbow then, looking down at me as my eyes danced acrossthe ceiling of the dark, masculine room. His gaze wandered my body sleepily,the little half-smile accompanying his stare. It wasn’t a look of lust, nor washe sexualizing me at all in the way he stared, but it was a look ofappreciation and adoration.

Myhand reached to rest against his rough cheek, my palm cupping his jaw, and heturned his gaze to my face and smiled wider, both corners of his mouth lifting.

“Whatareyouthinking?” I asked, remembering when I would ask Stephen thatvery question. His answer was always something mundane and typical, like thathe was thinking about me, and I half-expected Brandon to say the same thinggiven the adoring look in his eyes.

Herolled over onto his stomach, hugging his pillow and resting his broad chininto it. His eyes were on the headboard in front of him, looking up towards thecarved detail along the edge for a moment in thought.

“Well,actually,” he finally said, and turned his face to look at me, his facial hairrasping against the pillowcase, “I’m thinking about how you are the only womanto ever be in this room.”

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