Page 42 of Brawler
Brawler groaned, the sound ripped raw from his throat, and the second he did, the kiss shifted. Slowed. Deepened. Her mouth opened under his, her tongue brushing his in a teasing stroke that undid him. He leaned in harder, savoring it, devouring her in long, unhurried pulls that made the world fall away.
His dick swelled, hard enough to ache, but it wasn’t just his body. It was the want to feel her small, writhing form beneath him, yes, but threaded with something deeper, sharper, the image of her stripped bare against that springy moss, not just open to him, but choosing him. Wanting him so much she couldn’t stop herself.
The thought stole his air, made his chest seize. He didn’t just want to be inside her. He wanted her tosee him. Not the uniform, not the SEAL, not the brawler who held everything together. Him. Every nerve ending on fire, every secret, every fear. His wants, his dreams, his failures, his shame. He wanted her to touch all of it and still lean in.
He didn’t even know if he could survive that.
Christ, the taste of her. Citrus and heat and something uniquely Emily, burning into his senses. His hands cradled her face, callused thumbs dragging across her jaw, down to the delicate hinge of her throat, mapping her like she was the only terrain that mattered. Every nerve fired, not with lust but with something scarier…want. Not to take, but to keep. To have her pressed against him like this until the world ended.
His cock ached for her, for that springy moss beneath her back, but even that was secondary to the flood in his chest. He wanted herwantinghim back. Not pity. Not adrenaline. Not a kiss to soothe him or ground him. He wanted her toneedhim the way he suddenly, impossibly, devastatingly needed her.
He lingered in it, lost in her, savoring each slow press of lips, each stroke of her breath against his cheek. For the first time in his life he wasn’t trying to end a kiss, he was trying to memorize it. To live in it. To let it brand him from the inside out.
He cried out her name with an uncontrollable sob, “Emily.”
And then, fuck him, he had to break away.
Brawler tore back, chest heaving, mouth parted like he couldn’t catch enough air. Her face swam before him, lips swollen, eyes wide with heat, and it damn near broke him in half. His voice came out a ragged rasp. “I’m going to need…time.”
Emily stood frozen.Her lips tingled. Her pulse thundered through her. Her body still thrummed with the weight of him, the taste of him, the impossibility of what just happened. Beast gave a soft huff beside her, like he understood too much.
She waited five minutes. That was all she could handle. Then followed.
She should have stopped when she reached the spot where he’d left his vest and weapons, neatly placed beside the path. Should’ve turned back, respected his need for space.
But she didn’t, couldn’t.
When the path ended at that oasis beneath the waterfall, her breath caught.
He was waist-deep in the water.
Naked.
The fading light turned the surface into quicksilver, that wide expanse of his back was a potent invitation to touch all those thick, powerful muscles cut with flawless lines, traced in gray shadow that lingered most on the hard rise of his backside, shameless in its perfection. His shoulders were broad enoughto bear the weight of the world, his arms flexing with the slow movement of water.
She went instantly wet, heat spilling through her as if the kiss had set her body ablaze. Her nipples ached into hard peaks against her bra, thighs trembling, her core aching with the sudden, savage force of wanting him. All of him a giant in her pixie world.
The fantasy of being overtaken by such a brute, those hips between her legs, his sheer weight pinning her down, the promise of all that unyielding, intense brawn brought to bear, nothing short of a dark, consuming thrill.
She had no idea how she was supposed to walk back up to the cave mouth and pretend she hadn’t seen any of this…feltall of this.
Not likely.
He turned his head, his back flexing with the rigid set of his shoulders. “Emily,” he whispered, lighting her up like fireflies in the dark. “You can’t seem to stay put or heed my warnings.”
She took a breath. “Yeah, I have a mind of my own, and most of the time I can overcome most things, but when it comes to you…you get under my skin, and something in me just wants to…rebel. Besides, they say redheads can be unpredictable, complicated, and?—”
“Beautiful disasters?”
“That’s like the second time you’ve called me beautiful.”
“For a moment he didn’t answer. His jaw worked, a muscle ticking in his cheek as though he were wrestling with something too heavy to name. Then his voice came low, rough, a confession dragged up anyway.
“You are. I don’t mean the kind of beauty I’ve had before—shiny, easy, forgettable. But you…” His gaze cut to hers, sharp and unflinching. “…you make me feel like a man, not just themuscle, not just the uniform. Like maybe there’s more to me than holding everything together for everyone else.”
“I don’t need a man to hold anything together for me,” she said softly. “I just want to be there for him when he unravels, and for him to hold me when I do.”
For a second he froze, every line of his body rigid, as if her words had struck something deep. “Goddammit,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You get under my skin. I don’t even know how to handle you.” He turned his head, giving her the arresting sight of his profile again. Her eyes went over that jaw, her hands itching to cup it, feel the stubble, take her time exploring such a face, such a body, such a man. Raw, unguarded, more beautiful now than he’d ever been in armor. She couldn’t stop herself.
