Page 163 of Beat of Love
Brandy could not recall when last she felt so cared for, so cherished, and she emptied her mind and gave in to the exhaustion, knowing that he would take care of her.
47
Restraint
He deserved a medal for restraint.
Watching Brandy-Lyn undress? Pure torment.
Hearing her groan as she slid into the water? Agony.
And then — because he was a goddamn fool — he went and massaged her feet.
He had scars on his back to attest to the pain Kamila had inflicted, so when he claimed that bathing with Brandy-Lyn was torture, he knew what he was talking about.
In the last five minutes he experienced it all.
Sweet torment.
Glorious pain.
Magnificent hell.
He’d like nothing more than to lift her onto his lap and slide balls deep into her. But she was almost asleep, and he needed to get her out of the water and into bed. He stood and stepped from the bath. Brandy-Lyn didn’t even open her eyes. He dried off and tied a towel around his waist.
“Hey, Red.” He crouched beside the bath and ran the back of his fingers over her cheek. “Time to get out.”
Her eyelids lifted, then fell again. “Leave. Sleeping,” she mumbled.
“You’re still in the bath, darlin’. Gotta get you out.”
This time her eyes stayed open. “Right.”
“Come. I’ll help you.”
She clasped his outstretched hand and— “Wait!” Startled green eyes met his. “I’m naked.”
“As a jaybird,” he added, grinning. “Your exact words were ‘I’ve never bathed in undies’.”
Her gaze dropped from his. “Ugh.Wipe that stupid grin off your face and help me out of the damned tub.”
Instead of pulling her up, he stooped over and lifted her into his arms. “Rafferty!” She grabbed hold of his neck. “I weigh a ton.”
“Lightest ton I’ve ever held,” he said, lowering her to her feet. For a glorious, heart-stopping beat he held her bare body flush against his. She dropped her arms, and he stepped back, reaching for a towel. Her hair tumbled loose from its knot above her head, a rope of copper coiling around her neck and shoulder. He drank his fill as she stood on the sodden mat beside the tub, unmoving, but splendidly naked.
His mouth salivated, hankering to explore every inch of her exposed flesh.
Botticelli’sVenus, he thought, shaking out the towel.
Before he gave in to his carnal desires, he draped the warm cotton around her and guided her to the bed. “Get dry,” he growled, and turned away to fetch her pajamas from the bathroom. He took a moment to grab boxers from his bag and drag them on before attending to the woman who was slowly killing him. She’d managed a half-hearted attempt at drying herself, but he deemed it sufficient. Seeing her bare flesh was torturous temptation, and he was determined not to take advantage of her. He shook out the hideous flannel top, and without bothering to undo the buttons, he ordered, “Arms up.”
She obeyed, giving him a delightful view of her tits and their hard tips. The material fell into place, rudely hiding the glorious sight. Crouching before her, he tamped down the temptation to spread her knees and peek at her hidden delight. Instead, hewrangled the flannel over her feet and up her calves. “Hold on to my shoulders and stand,” he instructed. He stood with her, pulling the material up and over her hips.
His hands lingered, enjoying the proximity of her body to his. Her palms moved over his shoulders and gooseflesh followed in their wake. She combed her fingers into the hair on his neck as she leaned back and looked him square in the eye. “I’ve fallen for you, cowboy.”
And just like that, his resistance crumbled.
He lowered his head and touched his mouth to hers. A slight whimper escaped as her lips parted under his. He deepened the kiss, pulling her flush against him. Every glorious inch of her flesh burned through the material.
