Only You (Adair Family #5)(81)

“Yes,” I cried, desperately thrusting against his mouth as I climbed higher and higher toward breaking apart completely.

Feeling my desperation, Brodan returned to my clit and gently pushed two fingers inside me. He fucked me slowly as he sucked on the bundle of nerves at my apex, and I was done for.

My orgasm was like a fiery explosion that filled my vision with light, the release quaking deliciously through me as I shuddered against Brodan’s mouth.

He gently lowered my trembling leg, and I swayed against him, my inner muscles throbbing. Brodan stood, and I leaned into him. I was stunned, not just by the majesty of my release, but that my body still felt strung taut despite it.

I wanted more.

Brodan’s grip on my waist tightened as he stared at me like a starving man. All that lust, that desire, that savage need in his expression, was for me. He’d thought of me when he was with other women. That broke my heart, but it also made me triumphantly territorial. Like he was mine.

At that moment, I didn’t care if he possessed every inch of me in return.

My chest heaved with my labored, excited breaths as he brought his hands to my shoulders. His eyes followed his fingertips as they trailed with excruciating slowness across my collarbone and down toward the rise of my breasts. I wanted my bra off. I wanted his mouth on me again. My nipples peaked against my bra with anticipation.

“Stop tormenting me,” I whispered plaintively.

In answer to my needy plea, Brodan gripped my hips and pulled me to him so I could feel the steel of his erection against my bare stomach.

Gently, he cupped my face in his hands and kissed me so deeply, I could taste myself. I marveled at his control. If I was setting the pace, our kiss would be hungry, wet, wicked. But Brodan’s kiss was languid, sexy, and so tender I could almost cry again. My hands curled around his biceps, feeling his strength, and I didn’t know what I wanted to do more: take him inside me or let him hold me while we both cried a lifetime of tears.

But I’d told him no more. Tonight we would stop looking back and just be in the moment.

I returned his kiss, channeling all those years of longing into it, and, as if he felt it, Brodan squeezed my waist, his fingers almost biting into my skin with his need. Then he seemed to regain control of himself. His breathing slowed, his tension eased. His hands moved over my body with light strokes. He learned every inch of me—my ribs, my waist, my stomach. His palms glided around to my ass to squeeze my cheeks in his hands, and that control he’d just gained snapped.

Brodan’s kiss deepened, grew hungrier, and he drew me against his cock. I kissed him back with the same hunger, and our tongues caressed in deep, wet strokes. Throbbing between my legs, I grasped harder onto his biceps, pushing my hips against his erection, wanting him inside me.

I stroked my hands down his arms, learning the hard, muscular shape of him through his sweater. He was so much bigger than me. That night in the caravan, I’d been so aware of that. I loved it. I loved how delicate and feminine he made me feel. My exploration calmed him, and Brodan’s kiss grew gentler. He nipped at my lower lip and then he eased away, only to stare into my eyes as he glided his hands up my back to my bra. With an ease that spoke of his experience, he unfastened it and then nudged the straps down my arms until it fell to the floor.

His gaze slowly disconnected from mine, and I shivered as his expression grew hooded. His hands tightened around my biceps while he feasted on the sight of my naked breasts. My nipples peaked under his perusal, tight, needy buds that begged for his mouth.

“Sunset,” he murmured as he cupped me.

I moaned and arched into his touch. Ripples of desire undulated low in my belly as he played with my breasts, sculpting and kneading them, stroking and pinching my nipples. All the time, his attention vacillated between my face and my breasts. I thrust into his touch. “Brodan, Brodan …”

His name had barely broken past my lips a second time when his mouth found mine. This kiss was rough, hard, desperate, and his groan filled me as he pinched both my nipples between his forefingers and thumbs. I gasped, and his growl of satisfaction made me flush with pleasure. I was beyond ready. Feeling the fabric of his sweater beneath my hands, I curled my fists into it and jerked my lips from his. I tugged on the material, wanting to see him bared. Of course, I’d seen him in the movies, but that was a stranger on film. This was Brodan. My Brodan. Hopefully. Finally?

Brodan released me, stepped back, and yanked his sweater up and off. As he threw it behind him and then worked on his boots and jeans, I gaped at him. I’d known that he was made beautifully, carved like a sculpture of male perfection through rigorous training. But I wasn’t quite prepared. He seemed larger naked. His shoulders were so broad, he almost didn’t seem real. Smooth, olive skin rippled over defined pecs, a six-pack, and the tapered waist of a swimmer. His thick thighs and muscular calves caused another hard flip in my lower belly, and I longed to see his ass.

I moaned when he had to peel his boxer briefs over his erection, and when freed, his cock was so hard it strained toward his abs.

He was … beautiful. So beautiful, I was in awe.

And yet, I knew if Brodan Adair stood before me, an ordinary man with no abs or flexing muscles in his thighs and biceps … he would still be extraordinary.

He held my gaze, affection and lust mingling in his. Every part of my body swelled toward him as I watched him take a condom out of his wallet and roll it down his erection.