Page 174 of Branded
There was nothing better than when a man growled a woman’s name like that.
It was a tongue and fingers between my thighs, a cock plunging deep. It was a declaration wrapped in desire and…it was mine.
My name.
My man wanting me.
“I don’t know what’s better,” he growled, wrapping his hand around my arm and spinning me to face him. “Those panties, the boots, or the jersey.”
“Well, which one do you want to take off first?” I asked, tapping a finger to my lips.
A flash of white teeth, his blue eyes ablaze. “All of it.”
I laughed, shook my head. “Then I don’t know which is better either.”
“Beth?”
My laughter cut off at the seriousness of his tone. “Yeah?”
“You sure?”
“That I want to fuck you?” I asked, lightly, because that should be fucking obvious by the way I was dressed, how I’d thrown myself at him time and again. But when I saw what was in his expression, how it was minus the flash of white teeth, the amusement in his eyes, I had my tone going just as serious as his had been. “Or am I sure that I want to open this can of worms?”
He didn’t reply to the quiet question.
But he didn’t have to.
Because I knew what was in his head.
Because I was going to make this better.
“I’m not Monica,” I whispered, watching his face tighten. “And I wouldn’t fuck you over. Not because you don’t deserve it—because obviously you don’t. No one deserves to be treated like that.” His jaw flexed, and I smoothed my hand over the hard lines. “But I wouldn’t do that to you specifically because I think you’re sexy and kind, and I like how you care about your friends, how you’re always there to step in for them and take their backs. I wouldn’t do that because you’re good at your job, because you call me sugarpie, even though that’s cheesy as fuck.”
That jaw relaxed, amusement finally entered his eyes. “You like it.”
I did.
A lot.
Probably too much, all things considered.
But that amusement was perfect.
It was sexy. It gave me the courage to keep moving forward.
“And,” I said softly. “I wouldn’t do that because you’re you.”
The doors buckled…held.
And then I wasn’t thinking about doors at all.
Because Raph was stepping close, his body pressing to mine. Because he was reaching down, hands cupping my ass over the lace of my panties.
Warm, rough palms.
Big strong body.
Lifting me…then turning and carrying me up the stairs.
