Page 81 of Hang the Moon
“Yeah.Yes.”
He slipped backward off the bed and kneeled in front of the mattress. His hands circled her thighs, fingers pressing into her skin as he tugged, hauling her toward the edge of the bed, making her gasp. Her dress bunched around her hips, the slit splayed open, leaving her on display.
Bolder than before, he palmed the front of her thighs, his thumbs inching higher, closer,closer, almost grazing the crease where her legs met her body.
“Can I take this off?” he asked, tugging gently on her dress.
She nodded and arched up, helping him tug the fabric up and off her body. The dress sailed across the room, where it landed atop the lamp, knocking the shade askew and bathing the room in rose-colored shadows.
Brendon grinned. “Whoops?”
He sank back onto his haunches and lost his balance, toppling over onto his ass.
She snorted.
“Shh.” He did a poor job of quieting his own laughter as he rose to his knees and crawled toward her. He hauled himself up the bed and leaned over her, pressing his fingers to her lips.
He looked at her then, eyes lingering, savoring, staring down at her with the most breath-snatching combination of covetousness and reverence. “Fuck. You’re so beautiful.”
She melted inside.
He looks at you like you hung the moon.
Annie didn’t know what she’d done to deserve anyone, but especially Brendon, looking at her like she was something special. But she was going to revel in it, enjoy it for as long as she could. When the day inevitably came that he stopped looking at her like that, she’d at least have this memory.
Leaning over her, he pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, trailing kisses down the curve of her jaw.
“Do you know how long I’ve been dying to taste you? How many times I’ve thought about it?” His voice rumbled against her throat, his kisses trailing lower, over the jut of her collarbone, soft brushes of his lips interspersed with nips of his teeth that made her gasp, never knowing which she was going to get. Soft or hard, sweet or rough.
Fitting, because the Brendon she’d gotten to know could be both cocky and bashful, serious and funny, pushy and sensitive. There was more to him than met the eye, and she liked him, all of him, more than she’d bargained for.
“If it’s as many times as I’ve thought about it today alone, a lot.”
He smiled against her skin. His mouth skimmed down the swell of her breast, his lips grazing her nipple, wrapping around it, worrying it gently between his teeth. Pleasure shot from her chest down to her core, making her throb, making her wish she could rub her thighs together and get a tiny bit of relief, friction, but she couldn’t. Not with Brendon between her legs, keeping them spread wide.
He slid lower down the bed, lips brushing the bottom curveof her breast, the ticklish skin over her ribs. He pressed an almost reverent kiss to the gnarly scar from her appendectomy, which she hated, and worked his way down to her belly button, his tongue dipping inside, making her squirm.
“Can I take these off?” Lightly, he snapped the lace band of her underwear against her hip.
She arched her back, struggling to lift her hips off the bed with her feet barely skimming the floor. A quiet huff of frustration passed her lips. “Yes.”
He reached under her, pulling the lace over her ass and down her legs, shifting between her thighs and settling back on his knees. Leaning up on her elbows, she watched as he bent forward and pressed a kiss to her mound, his hands sliding down her thighs. Her breath quickened and her face heated as Brendon stared at her, his eyes dark and low lidded. “You’re so beautiful.”
If kissing Brendon was a revelation, having his mouth on her was heaven. She whimpered and canted her hips, raising one hand to the back of his head, burying her fingers in his thick red hair as she rocked against his mouth. His eyes flashed up to her face, his pupils blown, the look in them almost enough to send her over the edge.
Her thighs shook and drew in. “Brendon.”
He pressed his right forearm against her stomach, pinning her to the bed, keeping her hips from dancing. The pressure between her thighs intensified, the thread holding her together fraying rapidly before he sent her flying, a gasp that verged on a sob spilling from her lips. Her neck arched and her abs burned as she crunched forward, one hand still fisted in his hair, until it became too much. Weakly, she shoved him away before floppingboneless against the bed, struggling to catch her breath, her lungs burning and her throat raw from sucking in air.
He pressed a kiss to the crease of her thigh before lowering it to the bed, then crawled across the covers, settling in beside her, and reached out, brushing strands of hair from her face, tucking them behind her ears. “Good?”
She gave a breathless laugh. “You’re the Obi-Wan of oral.”
As someone who prided herself on her own cunnilingus skills, she bowed down. Brendon gave her a run for her money.
The bed shook when he laughed. “AStar Warsreference? Be still my heart.”
She rolled over and reached for the buttons on his shirt, hands trembling. She succeeded in freeing a grand total of two before he took mercy on her and helped. As soon as his shirt fell open, she trailed a finger down the center of his chest, zigzagging between his pecs, past his colorful tattoo, in a poor attempt at connecting his freckles. He had too many to count, and yet a silly part of her wanted to try to kiss them all.
