15. Peyton

PEYTON

H ome. What did that mean? Her home? Peyton's eyes drifted over to the man driving her car. The way Brodie rested his fingers on the steering wheel defied the hardness of biceps so toned and powerful they strained the sleeves of his shirt. His hard, angled jaw and the slash of his cheekbones were illuminated by the glow of the car's dash. His tightened muscles held untold promises of the pleasure kissing her had brought. When he looked her way, she saw the light dance in his deep blue eyes, his grin, and the dimples that cut into his beautiful face when he smiled at her.

Brodie rested his palm on her leg, squeezing as he slowly moved closer to the heat radiating from between her thighs.

His eyes drooped, and his breath caught when his calloused fingers sought the peak of her beaded nipple. "I want my mouth on you, Peyton. Everywhere." He pinched her hardened flesh. "Here." He slid his hand down and palmed her sex. "And here."

She was in too deep already, allowing herself to be drawn into the sensual spell he weaved around her. Logic and restraint fled. She could not deny the pleasure she sensed he could give her. It had been so long since she was taken that she could barely remember how it felt to have her body stretched and her flesh penetrated.

The lustful look burning into his eyes and the dominance she felt in his hands were assurance that, once he had her, his touch would be one she'd never forget. His heat would sear into her memory and leave a mark no amount of time would heal. His pull was so magnetic she felt herself move toward him with no resistance.

Was she ready for this? Could she let herself go and open her body to him? There was no way to fight it. In five short days, Brodie Butler had claimed her. He owned her body, her mind, and soon he would own her heart.

Peyton whimpered softly when Brodie's tongue slid into her mouth, tangling with hers and sending hot, pulsating pleasure down her body. He had her pinned between him and her kitchen counter, nuzzling the soft skin on her neck and breathing her in.

"You smell so fucking good," he said, crashing his mouth into hers again and fisting her hair. "I need to be inside you, Peyton. Even that won't be close enough."

She deepened their kiss but broke away when Brodie lifted her and rested her behind on the counter, trapping her legs between his, then splayed both hands over her breasts.

"Let's take this off." He pulled her shirt out from where it was tucked into her jeans. "Unbutton it."

She shimmied out of it and started to unfasten her bra, but Brodie shook his head.

"Hands on me, Peyton."

She rested her palms on his arms.

"That's my girl."

He pulled the front down so her breasts fell over the cups, and went back and forth—kissing, nibbling, sucking, and laving. It was the little nips that took her breath away. Her fingers dug into his arms, and then relaxed when he soothed her with his tongue.

"Brodie, you're torturing me."

In between nips, he kissed and licked, going from one shoulder to the other. "You wanted me to go slow, baby. Isn't that what you said?"

"No, God, not anymore. Please, Brodie."

More kissing, more nipping. "Please what, Peyton?"

"More, Brodie. I need more."

"More what?"

"Of you," she whimpered. "God, I'm begging you."

"All right, sweetheart. Let's see if Brodie can take care of whatever it is you need."

His hands went under her, pulling her to the edge of the counter. "Wrap your legs around me, Peyton."

She did and when she put her arms around his neck, he picked her up and carried her down the hallway.

"Tell me where, Peyton."

"Last door on the right."

Once there, Brodie rested her on the edge of the bed. "Lie down for me, baby."

He unfastened her belt, unzipped her jeans, and pulled them off in one tug. Her eyes closed, then opened.

"Spread your legs for me, Peyton." He lifted her knees and knelt between them, resting them over his spread thighs.

"You have too many clothes on," she whined.

"I'm takin' it slow, Peyton. Like you wanted," he teased.

He pulled her body forward. Her hips tilted then, and the hardness trapped inside his jeans kissed her sex.

"God, I can feel how wet you are." He ran his hands from her still-beaded nipples down her taut abdomen. Then he lifted her slightly, so he could kiss the tender skin behind her knee, then ran his tongue from there to the inside of her thigh. When he reached her apex, he pulled away and kissed the soft backside of her other knee.

Peyton writhed and whimpered, but nothing she did made him change his course.

"Tonight is about making you mine. Every inch of your body will learn the touch of my hands and my mouth."

"I need the rest of you."

"You'll get as much of me as I do of you, sweetheart." He stilled. "Don't move, Peyton. Don't even blink."

"What's wrong?"

"I've never seen anything more beautiful in my life. The way the moonlight makes your eyes glow, and the sweat glistening on your bare skin. I never want to forget this moment."

"Brodie, please." She reached for him. "Take off your clothes."

He rose and pulled his shirt over his head and, at the same time, toed off his boots. When she sat up and reached for his belt, he grasped both her wrists with one hand and held her still.

"I want to help." She pouted.

"Not yet, Peyton." With his other hand, he unfastened his belt and the top button of his jeans.

She gasped when they slid down his legs and he knelt between her thighs. "You still want it slow, Peyton?"

"No, Brodie. I never wanted it slow."

He grinned and reached for his discarded pants. When he pulled a condom out of his wallet, she breathed a sigh of relief that he had one with him. She looked into his eyes and saw heat, and need, and longing.

"Oh, God." She groaned when he ran a finger through her folds, then squeezed her clit.

"Look at me, Peyton. I want to see your eyes the minute we come together. I'm going to make you mine, Peyton. Do you understand?"

She whimpered as he eased in and out with maddening slowness.

"That's it, baby," he groaned when she clenched and jerked against him. "I want to watch as pleasure spreads over your flushed skin. I want to savor every minute."

She tightened around him and dug her fingernails into his flesh. Only then did Brodie let loose. He pounded into her until she felt herself sinking into a sea of sharp, intense, and overwhelming pleasure. Peyton gripped his shoulders and looked into his eyes.

"Come with me, baby. Right now," he said.

Brodie's fingers dug into her flesh, and she watched him unravel above her. He held himself there, watching too as she came down from the heights of pleasure she hadn't known existed.

"Look at me," he murmured.

She stared into eyes that had haunted her only a handful of days ago, but now whatever other memories they may have evoked were gone. Shattered. Her gaze bore into Brodie's, like him, wanting to remember every moment of the first time they made love. No one else mattered now. Only him, the man who lowered himself against her and kissed the dewy wetness on her neck, her shoulder, and in the soft groove between her breasts.

"I liked it slow, Peyton. Very much." He brought his lips to hers and tangled his tongue with hers. "But next time, we do it fast. Fast and hard. Okay, baby?"

"Brodie…" She had no words, other than to say his name again and again, in something she could only describe as reverence.

He slid away to the bathroom, dragging his fingers over her body as he went. A chill spread over her, and she reached for the blanket.

"No." He pulled the cover away from her when he returned to bed and rested his body next to hers. "I'll keep you warm, Peyton. I've got you. Always. Do you understand?"

She let her heavy eyelids close and snuggled into his heat.

He pulled her tight to him and spooned her body, his powerful hands and arms covering more of her than a blanket could.

"Sleep, baby," he whispered, and she did.