Page 77 of Braving the Storm
“Idid some searching online. I looked up that thing you were talking about.” Briar leans forward to turn the stereo down.
“What thing was that?” I say. Hooking one wrist on the wheel, I steer us down the mountain road.
At first glance, I wonder what this could be about. Then I notice that Briar is squirming. Oh, it’s definitely a sex thing.
The cocky asshole inside my chest crows with smug satisfaction.
“When you asked me what I didn’t want to have happen, or what my dislikes were.”
“Ahh. Your limits.”
“Yup. Those.” She shuffles around and shoots me a quick sideways peek through long eyelashes.
“And?” I fail at any attempt to wrestle the grin off my face. My grip flexes around the steering wheel as we head back down the mountain after our day at the ranch.
A day when Briar spent the entire time undressing me with her big doe eyes.
“No painful stuff.” She ticks off a finger. “There were lots ofthings on the list I found online that were about causing pain, or experiencing pain, and I definitely don’t want that.” She shudders with a grimace.
Fuck, she’s cute.
I hum in acknowledgment. “Fair. Not everyone enjoys that.”
“Do you?” Her eyes bounce over me. Curious energy bounds around the cab of my truck.
“Ahh, points for trying, but we’re talking aboutyou,remember.” Goddamn, if I don’t love that she’s intrigued, though.
She nibbles the inside of her lip, and I see a little flush start to dust her cheekbones when I shoot a look her way.
“No peeing or anything like that.” Her nose wrinkles as she ticks off another finger.
That makes me chuckle.
“No blindfolding, or stuff along those lines either.”
Shifting my hold on the wheel, I reach over until my hand finds her thigh, and she jumps a little.
“That’s good,” I say, trying to sound sane and level-headed and not like I want to explode with desire knowing that this girl has been searching for things she might or might not like me to do to her.
Fuck knows when she’s had a chance to do any looking online, but my dick is very enthusiastic about this conversation.
“I’m proud of you for figuring some of that out for yourself. As a start, that’s perfect.”
Briar ducks her chin and wriggles a little more, hearing me say those words. Knowing the asshole my adopted brother was, I’m sure this girl has never had anyone tell her they’re proud of her before. Bunch of dickwads, the entire lot of them.
“You like to watch, so no taking that away. Got it.” I run my tongue over my teeth. As much as it’s about letting her have more of what brings pleasure—letting the little voyeur hiding inside Briar out to play—I’m no therapist, but it doesn’t take a genius to suspect there are some deeper trust issues if she’s not interested in being blindfolded.
“What about being restrained?” I press for a little more since we’re already on this path, allowing my fingers to sink into the softness of her thighs.
Her cheeks develop deeper spots of rouge.
“You’re sitting there squirming, darlin’.”
Briar makes a tiny noise, one that might be part protest, part agreement, and I’m not sure if she even knows which of the two she really means right now. Although, after the eyes she’s insisted on giving me all day, I’m long beyond caring what her brain might be saying about all this.
“Want me to pull over and take care of that ache?” As my eyes stay focused on the road, I allow my fingers to wander up the inside of her leg, exploring a little higher.
Her weight shifts, the luscious swell of her thighs rub together, trapping my hand in place, and I know the moment she gives up any last lingering doubts, if there were any still rolling around her mind. That mouth of hers hangs open, ever so slightly.
