Page 111 of Braving the Storm
My eyes devour what she’s wearing, openly staring because holy fuck, Briar Lane could make angels weep with how beautiful she is.
Her hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, with a silky-looking champagne-colored dress swishing around her knees. Cowboy boots hug her calves, making this girl look like she could be every rancher’s wet dream.
Wearing my goddamn jacket.
“A dress? Don’t want you getting too cold, little thorn.” Fisting the hammer in one hand, I drag the back of my other across my forehead. I’ve been out here fixing up the stalls for the past few hours and managed to work up a sweat even though a spring chill still lingers in the air beyond those doors.
Briar reaches where I’m standing and eyes me from head to toe with a hidden little smile. “Seemed more practical for what I had in mind.” Her coy shrug is cute and all, but it’s an act. I fucking love that she’s so much more confident in herself and knows how to ask for what she wants.
“Doesn’t look like you’re interested in getting your hands dirty.” I toss the hammer into my toolbox. “Maybe just your knees instead?”
Briar bites her lip. Those dark eyes glimmer at me and are once again my absolute undoing.
She hums, a gentle noise, something sensual and wonderful, and it makes me fucking ravenous for her. “Thought you might like to see what’s underneath…”
“Oh, you thought, did you?” Resting my ass on the edge of the wooden workbench I’ve set up out here; I drag my girl to stand between my knees.
As I tuck one hand into the small of her back beneath the loose jacket slung around her shoulders, using the other I hook a strand of her hair behind one ear. My girl looks up at me with a soft expression, and I’m so fucking done for. All I can do is steal the opportunity to kiss her pillowy lips because I damn well can and should be able to, any time, and any place.
Briar deserves that, and so much more. Sliding our tongues together, and drinking down her faint, gorgeous noises of pleasure, I want her to understand this is so much more than just sex.
While that side of our connection, my cuff, the trust she’s put in me, all of that is undeniable—I also need her to be assured that it doesn’t just begin and end there in my mind.
Kissing and nipping and losing myself against her mouth, my hands move of their own accord. The sight of this girl wrapped up in my clothes is indelibly grooved into my brain, but right now, I’m in pursuit of what lies beneath that outer shell. Once I’ve unfastened the jacket—one I’ve worn out riding, in the wilderness, on dirt trails, and through a thousand memories of life in these mountains—I take a moment to roam my palms over the contrast of Briar revealed beneath that heavy material.
How she’s wrapped up in a piece ofme,but beneath that lies buttery soft fabric I’m pawing without stopping because she feels amazing, every curve and dip of her hips, her stomach, her navel, I can trace it all with my fingers.
It's an expensive, wafer-thin type of material. The kind I’m so unaccustomed to actually feeling beneath my calloused, work-worn fingers. Two minutes ago I was avoiding splinters and feeling the jarring thud of metal driving into wood, and now I’ve gothersoft and pliant, and feeling like a delicate feather I want to stroke and caress. I want to inhale that unfamiliar, yet wonderful sensation all day long.
One last tug of my teeth, pinching her bottom lip until she whimpers for me, that’ll have to satisfy my craving for the moment. I want to look my fill. Using my palms, I slip over her shoulders to lift the jacket and peel it down her arms ‘til she’s standing between my knees without anything in the way of me enjoying the effort she’s gone to. Eyeing the wrap dress tied around her waist, the style of this particular garment puts her cleavage on tempting display.
Her stiffened nipples peek out at me.
Wrapping my palms around her ribs, I bring my thumbs up to those hard little buds and tease her tits through the fabric.
“No bra? Wonder what else you forgot to wear beneath this dress, hmm?”
My girl came here with a plan. She gives me a flirty little look, sinking her teeth into that kiss-bitten lower lip.
“Damn, woman, you’re tempting me into leaving everything and tossing you over my shoulder. I’m about two seconds from taking you home and not coming up for air for a couple of days.”
A strange expression washes over her face as I exhale heavily, gravel coating my words.
“Though… as much as I want to do that, Beau needs to talk to me in about twenty minutes or so, and if you let me get inside that pussy I’m gonna want to fuck and fuck and fuck.”
I keep thumbing her nipples and watch as her pupils blow. Her whimpers grow louder the harder I rub and slide my touch over her tits.
“Storm,” she moans softly.
“Darlin’, I lose control around you… I lose time, my morals vanish, every damn thing just ups and disappears because none of it fucking matters.”
Onlyyoumatter, I want to add.
“Use me then… in other ways.” Her voice is husky with desire.
My hands go still, pausing, I’m taking in the sight of her.
Taking in what I think her meaning is, but I can’t quite be sure.
