Wherever It Leads(73)

“No, I am sure,” I breathe. “I’d want to spend time with you. As much as I can. I would want to get to know you, make you smile, make you laugh. Make you dinner and then undress you and help you relax.”

I’m pressed against him before I know it. His chin sits on top of my head, his heart thundering in his chest. He doesn’t let go, just speaks with me still in his arms.

“I don’t know what it is about you and I know we will have to take it slow. But I want to take it, Brynne.”

“Take it where?”

“To wherever it leads. I don’t want to feel like I can’t call you. I don’t want to go a day without seeing you or being afraid to piss you off if I show up. I want to feel justified in wanting to protect you and calling you mine. Not in some trophy way or in some barbaric way either. Just being proud that a man like me could manage to snag a girl like you.”

“Oh, Fenton,” I say, trying, and failing, to not swoon.

“The easiest thing I’ve ever done in my life is feel this way about you, rudo.”

I run my hand down the side of his cheek, the stubble coarse against my skin. “I’d love to see where this goes. I’ve never wanted anything more.”

His hand clasps over my wrist, holding mine to his face. He drags it to his mouth and plants a kiss in my palm. “You’ve put things in perspective for me.”

He slips off his jacket and tosses it onto a chair. My fingers find his tie and begin undoing the intricate knot.

I feel the heaviness of his gaze, the heat of his breath as I slip the silk from around his neck and add it to the jacket. Beginning to unfasten the buttons down his chest, I can feel his heartbeat rumbling.

“I still have things I want to say,” he breathes.

“Not now.”

The shirt slips off his broad shoulders, the stars making his skin nearly glow. My fingers dip beneath the waistband of his dress pants and his breath hitches in his throat.

“Brynne . . .”

“Nope. We talked. Now we f*ck. That was the deal.”

Jerking his belt, I snap him out of his reverie. With quick, methodical movements, I undo the belt and yank it out of the loops.

“Brynne . . .”

“Later, Abbott.”

He laughs and takes a step out of my reach. “You think you’re calling the shots just because you have a filthy mouth?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Sorry.”

His features darken as he drags a chair behind him. He stands in front of it and undoes the button of his pants. He frees his cock, running his hand up and down the long, solid length.

I start to take a step forward and he gives me a look that stops me.

Fenton sits in the chair, grabbing his dick at the base. “Take your shirt off.”

“Is that how this is played?”

“Tonight it is. No talking.”

“I—”

I’m cut off by his narrowed eyes. The words disappear into the thick, warm night air. Lifting my cami to the base of my breasts, I watch his reaction, measure the effect I’m having on him. The slight widening of his eyes, the slack jaw let me know I have his rapt attention.

Good.

Turning away from him, I brush my hair to one shoulder and then lift with no hurried movement until my cami is over my head.

Glancing at him over my shoulder, I shrug. “Now what?”

“Face me.”

Tossing my hair back, I pivot back around. He strokes his cock, the head swelling with the pressure. I want to wrap my lips around it and suck, tasting him. But I know he won’t let me; he’s pinning me in place as it is.

Bending at the waist, making sure he gets an eyeful of cleavage, I remove my heels. They hit the deck with a thud.

Running my hands down my chest, abs, and to the top of my jeans, I watch as his gaze follows my movements. I undo the button and lower the zipper as torturously slowly as possible. His jaw ticks, wanting me to hurry, but he’s not about to ask me to.

I turn away from him again, letting my hips swivel. I hear him mutter under his breath, but I don’t look back. Instead, I stand on my tiptoes, grabbing the deck rail in front of me with one hand and letting the other slip into the front of my pants. I lean forward, letting my ass pop towards him, and widen my stance.

My bud is swollen, my slit slippery already with desire. I moan as my fingertip touches my clit and I hear the chair creak behind me.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see Fenton sitting back down. His pants are gone and he’s deliciously naked, just a look of pure lust painted on his handsome features.

“Ah,” I cry, keeping our eyes locked while I work my fingers over my sensitive spot. His fist works his cock in time with my hand, at a pace that’s demonstrative of how much we both crave this release.

“Don’t even think you’re going to make yourself come.”

His words pierce me, nearly throw me over the edge on their own. I soar to the top, ready to hit the climax, but right before I hit the line, I stop. My head sags forward as the blood rushes from my brain, my body reprimanding me for quitting too soon.

I slide my hands into the sides of my jeans and push them, one inch at a time, over my waist. I kick them off, standing in front of him in nothing but a white lace bra and panties.

His gaze is intense, scalding my skin as it takes in every curve and bend of my body. I walk towards him, one, two, three, four steps, and wrap my fingers in his hair.