Page 50 of Brawler
Emily woke in the deep night, Brawler still wrapped around her. She loved the feel of him, hard, solid, and protective. He’d kept her close, even in sleep, open, responsive, making her feel part of him, cherished, and thought immediately of Ben. God, how had she ever endured that relationship, lying stiff beside him in a bed that never felt like hers? He never snuggled, not even after sex, leaving her feeling hollow. With Brawler, every nerve in her body came alive, responsive, greedy for his touch. She pushed up on her elbow and looked down into his oh-so-handsome face.
Outside the tent, the cave glowed faintly with a phosphorescent sheen. A ghostly wash of blue-green light painted his features, the brown of his hair, the hard cut of his jaw, the stubborn mouth she couldn’t stop kissing. The glow caught on his lashes where they brushed his cheeks, softening a face she knew could be feral and unrelenting when awake. It moved over him, gleaming, breathing against his burnished skin, making him look less like a man and more like some slumbering god.
He made her weak in body, but not in heart. Not in her soul. She traced her hand gently over his chest, finally free of that damn vest, her palm savoring every dip, every ridge, every solid angle. Restraint was a knife-edge because she wanted more. Wanted him naked under her, wanted to straddle him and take him deep inside her until neither of them could breathe. Heat surged when her gaze slid lower, memory flashing, the thick length of him, hard and insistent against her belly, searing her with promise.
He’d been there for her emotionally, liquefied her with that heart-melting Disney story about how he bonded with his brother. She wanted to meet Toby. The curiosity, the need to see the man Brawler had molded him into, was keen. She bet she would never be the same.
He’d undone her, seen her, wanted her. He had always been looking at her, and she was only just realizing it.
The ache was unbearable. If she stayed, she’d wake him. That wouldn’t be fair. He’d had so little sleep, and she couldn’t bring herself to steal more from him. She slipped free and ran barefoot toward the waterfall, her fear needing the distance, but her body protested, urged her to go back and give into her desire.
What had he done to her? What could he still do to her, the depth of her feelings taking hold until she was panting with it…the want, demanding and unrelenting. At the edge, she violently stripped off her clothes, sweat sheening her. Warm air wrapped around her flushed skin, the mist feathering over her body like a whispering, gnawing caress. The roar of water was a lure, and the spray became nothing but a sensual goad.
Her nipples beaded, her clit, hot and throbbing. She closed her eyes, waves of want pulsing through her blood.
It felt so good, so wildly, shockingly good, and she felt supremely alive. Emily waded deeper, flinging handfuls of water toward the cavern ceiling, silver droplets breaking apart and raining down like stars. She spun, caught a splash in her palm, curved it outward, sending ripples racing across the pool like the wake of a motorboat. Laughter burst out of her, high and unrestrained, giddy with the force of her own arousal, her core throbbing, tight and swollen, aching for his hands, his mouth, that big, thick dick.
Her laughter strangled, dissolving into a gasp as she threw her head back and let herself fall. God, she wanted him. She laughed in the face of her pain, finding the courage he’d shownher, her body surrendering to him even though he wasn’t present. She sank beneath the surface, water closing cool against her overheated skin. The liquid skimmed her breasts, her nipples so sensitive the current felt like a kiss. It slid between her thighs, teasing where she ached, a thousand silken touches she couldn’t control. Her thighs trembled with need, clenching around nothing.
She sat on the pool’s smooth stone bottom for a breathless moment, the weightless press of the water both soothing and tormenting, lapping over her body in echoes of joy. Every pulse of current stroked her, every ripple reminded her how empty she was without him. For once, the water didn’t carry grief. It carried her. Alive. Wanting. Free.
She’d come to this jungle to finish her dissertation, to collect her data and check on her cats, but she had found something so much more, something amazing, unexpected, life-changing. The drive to finish now filled her with joy instead of pressure. Dani would have loved it, would have been proud to see her graduate, to see her fight for the creatures she adored. The thought didn’t hollow her, it swelled her chest, love welling for her sister, not gone but remembered. Always in her heart.
Those thoughts energized her, the need for Brawler roaring back with a vengeance. She gathered herself, her lungs bursting, exploding from the bottom like a heat-seeking missile. She waded out dancing, throwing her hands up, kicking water, stomping, whirling until she was breathless.
Brawler woke with a start,swearing before he was fully upright. Once again, Emily was gone. She was going to drive himstraight into insanity. He shoved out of the tent, lungs dragging hard.
Beast was sprawled by the cave entrance, tail flicking once in his sleep. If Emily had left, the dog would have gone with her. The tightness in his chest eased a fraction.
The Malinois cracked one eye when Brawler appeared. Giving his tired wardog a quick all-clear signal, Beast sighed, head flopping back down. That’s when Brawler heard it. Laughter, wild and bright, carried over the steady roar of the falls. Water splashed, echoing against the stone.
He followed the sound, the phosphorescent light pooling against the cave walls, beckoning. When he rounded the rock that blocked his view, he stopped dead.
Emily.
Goddammit. Fuck him sideways.
Time seemed to slow, allowing him to watch her in her abandon. She was dancing. Whirling, stomping, every movement wild and unchained, her beautiful naked body gleaming as if lit from within. Her hair whipped with each turn, a wet, tangled mane of copper strands flaring like fire against her shoulders, her back, her breasts. Water arced from her fingertips as she spun, glittering ribbons cascading around her, droplets scattering like shattered stars before falling to kiss her skin.
Her breasts lifted and swayed with her steps, nipples peaked, catching the light, bouncing with every stomp of her bare feet against the shallow end of the pool. She bent low, then rose with a twist of her hips, her body flexing, supple, strong, every line alive with surrender.
She looked like some fae water sprite who had taken the cascade as her partner, silver spray sparking at her command, the falls themselves bowing to her rhythm. Her hair clung, then swung free again, strands of fire licking across pale, freckled skin that glowed under the phosphorescent wash.
The ghostly light clung to her curves, highlighting the sweep of her arms, the taut belly, the strong line of her thighs. It kissed her everywhere, each flicker a caress that made her seem untouchable, unreal, an elemental creature born of water and flame, too beautiful to belong to this world.
He froze, helpless. His cock swelled thick and heavy, pressing against his shorts, his knees threatening to buckle. He locked them by force, every muscle straining, but it didn’t change the truth crawling through him. She was undoing him.
Emily…fuck.
His cock swelled, hard and aching, pressing against the cling of his shorts. His entire body betrayed him; his knees buckled and he had to lock them to keep from collapsing. But that was nothing compared to the collapse inside.
How the fuck had he survived on the breadcrumbs he’d allowed himself? Women who never saw him, who never looked past the muscle and the trident and Christ, he’d wanted it that way, desperate to protect Toby, to keep every messy, human part of himself locked down tight. But was that really his purpose? Or had he been seeing everything through a blurred lens?
His chest clenched. Every hookup, every faceless encounter, hollow. Sex without meaning, pleasure without connection. It was barren, a wasteland of broken and littered moments he’d squandered.
Now this. Emily. Vibrant. Alive. Sexual. This tiny, infuriating, magnificent woman who scared the living fuck out of him. He couldn’t think,couldn’t fucking think, about a life without her in it. Challenging him. Teasing him.
Oh, fuck. Oh,fuck.Oh, fuck.
