America's Geekheart (Bro Code #2)(89)

All with one hand holding the back of my head, his fingers carefully massaging the base of my skull, his scent filling my senses, mingling with the scent of my arousal, his touch setting my skin on fire.

“There you are,” he says softly, and I blink open my eyes to find him studying my face with a mixture of awe and reverence. My cheeks tingle with relief at being in fresh air again, and there’s an awkward lump clogging my throat, because I swear, he’s thinking I’m gorgeous without any makeup at all.

I’ve never wanted to be gorgeous.

It’s superficial and unnecessary.

But having the most gorgeous man on earth gazing at me with utter adoration for just being me makes me feel beautiful.

And strong.

And so very, very sexy.

I’m half-naked, with my dress gaping in front, my split Slimzies curling down, and my legs still stuck in a dress, with hair that’s probably sticking up, and no makeup to hide my blush or my birthmark.

And he makes me feel like an irresistible goddess.

He touches my cheek with a light finger, and then he’s kissing me.

But it’s not a normal kiss, just lips and tongues and teeth.

No, this is like our souls are saying hello.

I unbutton his shirt slowly. He shifts my body as he peels my dress down over my hips, kissing me and plucking hairpins out. I reach his pants and unhook them too.

He groans into my mouth as I push them over his hips and they slide to the floor. My hands curve around to cup his ass, and my already wet panties get positively soaked.

My dress hits the floor, and he grips the edges of my Slimzies and yanks, and they split in two.

I shudder in relief as my body’s finally fully free, and then I realize I’m completely naked.

Except for a small pair of RYDE panties.

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” he whispers as he cups my breasts, then bends to press a gentle kiss to each nipple before suckling one into his mouth. I gasp at the intense shot of pleasure that radiates from my breast, through my ribs, and down to my center. I clutch his head in place, my fingers in his thick hair, and I spread my legs, because I need him to— Yes.

To touch me.

He strokes his thumb over the fabric covering my clit, and I gasp again and arch into him.

“You like?” he whispers against my breast, which makes my skin pebble everywhere his breath touches.

“Yes,” I manage.

He still has his shirt hanging open, tie dangling low on one side, with a white undershirt and black boxers.

I’m still in my strappy heels.

He straightens and guides my legs around his hips, and then he’s carrying me into his bedroom, hands kneading my ass, kissing me again, lowering me to his bed, where his hands roam over my body. “Tell me to stop and I will,” he whispers.

“Take your shirts off.”

He smiles as he does as asked, the dress shirt flying one way, the tight white T-shirt beneath going the other. “Better?”

I crook a finger at him, and he lowers himself onto his arms above me. I cup his cheeks, then move my hands down his neck, around his shoulders, over his chest, and I smile back at him. “Much better.”

His stomach growls, and we both look down at it.

“You didn’t get enough dinner,” I whisper.

“I’m about to fix that,” he replies, and then he’s kissing his way down my body, from my neck, between my breasts, over my belly, beneath my belly button, until he stops short at the top of my panties. “Sarah Dempsey, you’re wearing my underwear,” he breathes against the elastic band.

“Yes,” I manage, because it’s all I can say. He’s teasing the edges of the panties with his thumbs, taking his time, his mouth drifting lower to press kisses to the top of my mound over the fabric.

“I like you in my underwear. But I think I might like you more out of them.”

“Yes,” I gasp again.

He breathes in my scent, and I strain to open my legs wider.

I’m so wet already, and the anticipation of Beck’s mouth on me is making my heart throb in my clit. “Want—you,” I manage.

“How mad will you be if I tear these off?” he asks my pussy.

“Beck.”

“What? I can get you a new pair.” He blows on the fabric, and my hips lift off the bed. Everything’s buzzing and shimmering in anticipation.

He guides my legs so he can tug the panties off—“Too awesome to waste,” he says, which makes me laugh despite myself—and then pauses at my feet. “Fucking hell. Don’t these hurt?”

“Nothing hurts right now.”

“Sarah. They’re cutting into your feet.” He mutters to himself while he undoes the small buckles and pulls them off, then lifts my feet for inspection.

My toes glitter in the low light, and he lifts a grin to me that goes dark and hooded when his gaze locks on my bare pussy.

“You painted the universe on your toes.” He releases my foot, but glides his hands up my legs as he stretches back out to center himself with his mouth over my hips. “Beautiful.”

I don’t know if he’s talking about my toes or the rest of my body, but it suddenly doesn’t matter, because his tongue is teasing my clit and his thumbs are drawing lazy circles on my inner thigh, and oh my god, why did I ever doubt this man?