Page 92 of The Marriage Deal
He quirks a grin. “Women are expensive.”
I scowl. “I’m not marrying you for your money, Briggs.”
“Is that so?”
I flinch at his words, but there’s a smirk playing at his lips. I narrow my eyes. I’m too tender right now to spar with words, but I also can’t let him get the upper hand. Probably because I’m so tender.
“Itwaswhy I was marrying you.”
He folds his arms over his chest and leans into the side of the massive SUV. The thing might as well be a truck. He drawls, “And why are you marrying me now?”
“Your dick,” I blurt before I’ve thought it through. Then I run with it. “Good dick is hard to find and I’m not in the mood to search for better right now. Check back in an hour.”
There’s not a soul on this earth that could miss the dark look that passes through his eyes. He kicks off the vehicle to crowd me against the still open door. I hold my ground even though I feel both tender and excited. The emotions this man pulls from me are wild.
His pitch has turned from teasing to serious in aflash. Goosebumps prickle my flesh, raising the hairs. “The only dick you’re concerning yourself with is mine, little lunatic.” He continues to crowd me until we’re nearly chest to chest. My head is tipped back, his forward.He’s so much bigger than me.
There’s a thrill in my belly. Gone is the tenderness of the day.
I’ll reacquaint myself with the sore heaviness in my heart later.
I lift my chin and taunt, “Is that so?”
“Do I need to remind you how much you like it?”
“Your mom is in the house.” I press my palm into the center of his chest, but I’m not really trying to push him away. “And there’s no storm to muffle the sound.”
Every muscle in Briggs’ body tightens. There’s a darkening in his eyes. A thunderstorm.
One moment, I’m standing against the open door of the SUV. The next I’m thrown over his shoulder. A shriek peals from between my lips as Briggs slams the door shut, striding fast in the direction of the barn.
I slap my palm into his back. “Put me down.”
“Quiet.” A sharp sting bites my ass at the clap of his palm. I shriek again.
“You’re going to pay for this!”
“Tell me again how you’re thinking of looking for other dick,” he growls low. “Give me a reason, little lunatic.”
“I’m not looking for other dick. Oh, my goodness, Briggs. It was a joke.”
He grips the back of my thigh with a hot, hard hand. I love that I can feel the rough nip of his callouses against the soft skin.
“It wasn’t funny.” He keeps walking. His strides are long and even.
I can’t help but laugh. “It kind of was. I mean—ahh!”
His hand is no longer gripping the back of my thigh, but it’s slipped up higher. So high I can feel the sweep of his fingertips against my panties. I stiffen. My distorted breaths turn painfully choppy.
“Who is laughing now?”
Neither of us, apparently. I can feel the bullish breaths billowing from him and I’m now a panting mess as he strokes me there long and slow.Oh my…
“Briggs,” I moan when a finger slips under the fabric to touch me. I squirm over his shoulder. “You’re going to drop me.”
“Then quit moving.”
“But you’re touching me!” I wail.
