Page 83 of Hang the Moon
His hips snapped, making her mewl and clench the sheet in her fists, the force of his thrusts almost driving her up the bed.
“Like this?” He panted, his breaths hot and ragged against her skin, as he delivered on exactly what she’d asked for.
She nodded and he swore, his teeth nipping her earlobe gently. She gasped at the subtle sting that shot straight to her core. His tongue swept the shell of her ear, making her shiver.
One of his arms banded around her waist, yanking her back onto his lap as he kneeled. Wordless gasps spilled from her mouth, desperate little sounds she couldn’t have swallowed had she tried.
This was a million times better than she’d imagined.
His other hand wrapped around her chin, turning her head so he could kiss her, swallow her cries as he rocked into her.
The look in his eyes was unbelievably intense. So intense she could barely breathe. Her chest burned, her heart squeezing. She wanted to look away but she couldn’t, completely trapped in his gaze, spiraling, coming apart at the seams in a way that had nothing to do with what he was doing to her body.
Needing something to hold on to, something to steady herself, she lifted a shaking arm and hooked it around the back of his neck.
Eyes hazy, she licked her dry lips, wishing she could press hermouth to his skin, taste his sweat. She was close, achingly close, her heart pounding against her sternum, her blood thrumming in her head, her ears ringing like she was underwater. She just needed a little more, a little something to send her over the edge, make her come. “Please.”
He reached up, running his callused thumb along her bottom lip, groaning when her tongue darted out, tasting, curling around it, trying to suck it between her lips. He let her, pressing his thumb against her tongue, his eyes darkening as she sucked, teeth scraping the pad of his finger.
Her head fell back against his shoulder, releasing his thumb, and he dropped his hand between her thighs, circling her clit. She shattered, biting down hard on her lip so she wouldn’t make too much noise as Brendon drove her over the edge, her brain blanking out as she clenched, pleasure washing over her.
His teeth closed around her shoulder, the sound of his groan rumbling through her, his heart beating erratically against her back as he followed her over the edge with one final hard thrust.
His lips skimmed up her throat and over her jaw; when he finally kissed her it was slow, gentle, so different from a moment before, when everything had been fast and hard and so intense she couldn’t breathe. She was still having trouble catching her breath, panting into Brendon’s mouth, sharing air.
After a moment, he drew back, resting his forehead against her temple.
Her arm fell to her side and her lids fluttered open; she blinked into the dim, pink-tinged light of the room.
Brendon was smiling at her, a look so achingly intimate her heart pounded faster again, beating against her sternum.
“I’ll be right back,” she whispered, sliding past him and off the bed. She padded across the room and fled into the adjoining bathroom, shutting the door behind her.
She peed fast and washed her hands, unable to keep from staring at her reflection. At the back of her head, her hair was a knotted mess, her chignon more of a bird’s nest thanks to her thrashing against the covers when Brendon had gone down on her. Beneath her eyes, her liner was smudged, and the skin around her mouth was pink from his stubble.
She shut off the faucet and dried her hands, reaching for her makeup remover wipes, too lazy to wash her face.
When she stepped back into the bedroom, Brendon was sitting on the edge of the bed, his pants in his lap, but not on. He lifted his head and smiled at her crookedly. “Hey.”
Her toes curled in the carpet, pleasant warmth filling her veins, replacing the heat from earlier. “Hi.” She nodded at his pants. “You’re not... leaving, are you?”
Saying it put an unexpected lump in her throat.
“Oh.” His fingers closed around his clothes. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to stay.”
What she wanted was a topic for a different time, the morning maybe. She needed to do some serious...soul searching, but not now.
Right now, what she wanted was to wiggle beneath the sheets and sleep, preferably with Brendon spooned behind her. She wanted the weight of his arm around her waist, his chin hooked over the top of her head. She wanted to press her slightly chilly feet back against the furnace of his body and discover what he’d do. If he’d yelp or chuckle or lean closer. She wanted to lie inbed with him talking until midnight, and she wanted to wake up beside him in the morning and watch the sun peek through the slats in the blinds, dawn turning his auburn hair into burnished bronze.
Her chest ached and her fingertips tingled and the lump in her throat tripled in size.
She’d caught capital-FFeelingsfor Brendon. Feelings that had nothing—okay, a little something—to do with orgasms. Feelings that had everything to do with liking the sound of his laugh and how he could just look at her and turn her bones into butter. Feelings that had to do with his earnest efforts to bring joy to everyone he knew, even the people he didn’t. It was his corny jokes and how he put his whole heart into everything he did, from rapping in front of a room full of strangers to giving a heartfelt speech at a coworker’s wedding.
Brendon cared.
And so did she.
“I do,” she said, casting a glance around the room. He’d moved her dress off the lamp in the corner, so the cream-colored walls were no longer pink. His shirt still lay in a heap on the floor along with her underwear, but that wasn’t why she blushed. Nor was it because she was naked and so was he. “I’d like it if you stayed.” Her smile was a touch hesitant, not shy but... hopeful. “I mean, if you’re willing to risk running into your sister in the morning.”
