Wrapped Up in You (Heartbreaker Bay, #8)(53)

People scared her.

One of the good things about living in two hundred and fifty square feet was that she could see her entire place in a single sweeping glance.

It was empty.

Still, she stayed on guard as she stepped inside and shut and locked the door behind her. Everything seemed exactly as she’d left it and she let out a long breath.

For the first time in his entire life, Brandon had really done what he’d promised and left. She tossed her purse to the couch and began to strip on her way to the bathroom and the hot shower she’d been dreaming about all day long. She was soaked to the bone and her clothes were stuck to her wet body. As she pulled them off, they hit the floor with a thunk.

She was at the bathroom door when her phone rang. It was Kel. “I miss you,” he said in greeting.

She felt a ridiculously goofy smile curve her mouth. “Prove it.”

“I’m outside your door with dinner.”

She grabbed a small throw from the back of the couch. Wrapping herself up, she opened the door a crack, letting just part of her face show. “What’s for dinner?”

His gaze slid southbound from her face. “You.”

Liking that answer a lot more than she should, she stepped back enough to let him in, watching him shut and lock the door behind him. “Is your brother still here?” he asked.

“Nope, and if past habits are anything to go by, I won’t see him again for a few years.”

Nodding, he turned and took in the sight of her from head to toe.

“I’m still wet,” she said softly.

His eyes darkened. “Are you?”

She shivered, and not from cold this time. Outside, the rain pummeled the roof and slashed at the windows. Inside, she was nearly overheating.

“Come here, Ivy,” he murmured, setting the bag in his hand down and reaching for her. “I’m . . . starving.”

Laughing, she held him off with a hand to the chest, which had her throw slipping a little bit, giving a quick free peep show that had him stepping into her and wrapping her up in his arms.

“And what if I’m . . . starving?” she asked.

Lightly tugging her wet hair so that she tipped up her face, he kissed her. A soft hello at first, which quickly turned into something else entirely. “Tell me now if you meant for food,” he said huskily.

“I didn’t mean for food,” she said and tugged him to the couch.

He sank into the cushions, pulling her to stand between his spread thighs. And then, holding her gaze in his, he unwrapped her from the throw like he was unwrapping a most precious gift.

When the throw hit the floor, he let out a low groan at the sight of her. “You take my breath,” he murmured in that voice that removed the knees from her legs. Cupping her bare ass in his hands, he urged her a little closer, taking his hot, wet, talented mouth on a tour. When he added his wickedly clever and diabolical fingers, she gasped and spread her legs to give him better access, which he took in such an erotic, sensual measure that she gasped again. “My legs . . . I can’t stand.”

His mouth busy at her breast, he tugged her so that she fell into him, arranging her so that she was straddling him, the inside of her thighs hugged up to the outside of his. And when he spread his wide, hers went with them.

“Please,” she whispered, rocking into him, not even sure what she was asking. “Oh, please . . .”

Luckily he seemed to be able to read her mind because he pulled a condom from his pocket and handed it to her while he unbuttoned and unzipped and freed his essentials.

And goodness, his essentials.

She knew he liked slow and thorough to the point of torture, but she needed him now, so she rolled on the condom, rose up on her knees, and sank down over him.

His hands went to her hips, his fingers digging as his head went back, his eyes closing as he swore roughly beneath his breath. She knew exactly what he was feeling, because she was feeling it too, and it was so delicious, so . . . perfect, she needed more. So she began to move, wrenching some more low, reverent swearing from deep in his throat.

“You feel so good, Ivy. Too good. You’ve got to slow down or it’ll be over before—”

She didn’t slow down. She couldn’t help it. There was something unbelievably erotic about being completely nude while he was still fully dressed. Still, she shoved up his shirt, because . . . well, abs. Watching them crunch and quiver every time she rose and fell on him was like a drug.

His hands gripping her hips, he slowed her rhythm, drawing out their pleasure in the way only he could, since he was the only one of them with any patience at all. When his head went back his eyes closed again, making a low sound of pleasure deep in his chest. She could ride this man forever, she thought. His hands were everywhere, stroking over her body, rubbing her lazily until she came with a shudder. After, he drew her down until she was low enough to kiss him, and tangling his hands in her hair, he sucked on her tongue as she moved.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against her mouth. “I could stare at you forever.”

Shockingly moved by his words, her hips stuttered to a halt, ripping a groan from him.

“Don’t stop, God don’t stop,” he said roughly, his eyes glowing fiercely as his hands found her hips again, thrusting up to meet her. He felt so good, and his face when he came . . . well, she lost it again at the intensity.