Lizzie Blake's Best Mistake (A Brush with Love, #2)(83)
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” she said.
Chapter 40
MARY and Ryan’s home was cozy and warm. They all made themselves comfortable in the living room, Lizzie and Rake snuggling into the plush love seat while Mary and Ryan sat on the light gray couch covered in pillows and blankets. The whole house held a softness that Lizzie wouldn’t have pictured for Ryan, a domesticity that she never associated with her brother. She realized that, as misunderstood as she’d felt by him growing up, she didn’t really know him either. And she wanted to change that.
The four of them talked for hours. While there was a tang of awkwardness at first, it quickly dissolved as they started laughing and joking with one another, carefully navigating the new territory of closeness they stood at the perimeter of.
Mary eventually yawned and stretched. “I’m dead tired,” she said, standing up. “I better head to bed. Lizzie, do you still plan on going to the party tomorrow?”
“No,” Lizzie said, shaking her head. “The cake is already at Mom and Dad’s, and I don’t think it’d be worth more fighting to show.”
Mary nodded. “I understand,” she said, reaching out a hand for Ryan. “Your parents weren’t so happy with us either after Ryan went off on them,” Mary added, folding up her blanket. “I’d be surprised if they even want us there tomorrow.”
“You went off on them?” Lizzie said, her gaze whipping to Ryan.
He blushed. “I…”
“It was probably the closest I’ve ever seen Ryan get to telling someone to go fuck themselves,” Mary said with a delicate laugh, catching Lizzie off guard. Lizzie didn’t even know Mary knew cuss words, let alone said them.
“It was a necessary conversation,” Ryan said, looking down at his feet.
Lizzie stood up and moved to him, giving him another hug. “I love you,” she whispered into his chest. She heard him swallow.
“Love you too, Lizzie.”
They said their good-nights, and Rake and Lizzie headed downstairs to the guest bedroom. An unspoken thread of need tethered them together as they walked into the room. The night had been raw, heavy, and more words needed to be said, but first, they needed to communicate in the way they’d first learned with each other.
When the door was shut and locked, they turned to each other, eyes searching. Without saying anything, Rake started unbuttoning his shirt and Lizzie lifted her dress up and over her head. She moved to stand in front of him, their breaths mingling in a delicate cloud in the few inches that separated them.
In the space between a breath and a heartbeat, her lips found his, the touch soft and tender as their bodies met.
Rake ran his fingertips along her skin like he was touching the surface of a bubble, delicate and focused and careful.
Lizzie broke the kiss long enough to reach back and unhook her bra and slide off her underwear, Rake removing his remaining clothing as well.
Lizzie reached out her hand and Rake took it, pressing his body against hers, skin and heat and hunger. Walking backward, her lips and limbs tangling with his, Lizzie made her way to the bed and Rake prowled over her.
They kissed and touched and held each other, a garden of pleasure blooming across Lizzie’s body. She arched her hips against him, wanting and ready, desire pulsing beneath her skin. But Rake pulled back.
He caged her between his forearms, covering her with his broad expanse of chest. He stared down at her, forcing her to look back.
“I need to say one thing,” he panted over her, stilling her movements, “before we continue.”
Lizzie bit back a frustrated groan. “Listen,” she said, arching up to touch him again. “I love talking to you, I do. But right now, I really, really, really want to be done with the talking part.”
“This is important,” he said, and the serious look on his face made her still her greedy hands that wanted to touch and grab and caress every inch of him.
“When we were talking at your parents’ house, I mentioned how much I love your freckles. Your hair. All those things.”
Lizzie nodded, basking in the memory of his praise like a kitten in the sun. “You did. I thoroughly enjoyed it. You can tell me other body parts you like during what we were about to do, though,” she said with a soft laugh, straining her head up to kiss his shoulder.
“No, that’s the point.”
Lizzie gave him a confused look, so he pressed on.
“Your brain,” he said.
“What about it?”
“I adore your brain the most.” He threaded his fingers through her hair, sparking up every nerve ending with the gentle tug. “More than your freckles or your eyes or this deliciously round arse of yours.” He reached down, giving her butt a playful pinch that made her giggle and squirm.
“I think about your brain constantly,” he continued, his eyes piercing into hers. “It fascinates me to no end. I want to know every corner of it, learn the secret colors of your thoughts. I’d do anything for a map of it.”
She let out a rough chuckle, about to say something self-deprecating, but he cut her off like he could read her thoughts. He pressed his mouth to hers in a deep kiss. He kissed her and claimed her until she opened for him on a gasp. He moved away, placing soft brushes along her cheek. Her jaw.