As soon as we’re done eating, we leave. Brian didn’t pay the bill, but if they know him, they know where he lives and will figure out how to get their payment. The bottle of wine was left half full on the table. Money is no object.
We’re not alone on the elevator. A couple gets off on a floor a few down from ours, but when the doors close behind them, we’re sealed in alone.
Brian doesn’t waste a second.
He’s on me in a flash, his mouth hot on mine, his tongue moving against my own as his fingers move down to grab me between my legs. I do the same to him, cupping him through his pants, finding his erection and fisting it as best I can through his slacks.
My insides burn as the ache his brother started blisters in my core. The pressure of his fingers is just enough to give me a preview without giving anything away, but I want it—need it. I crave it.
I ignore the corner of my brain that’s questioning whether it’s him I’m craving.
The elevator doors open to our floor, and we almost miss it. The doors start to close, but we’re so intent on lip to lip, body to body, exploring fingers that we nearly get stuck for another ride. Just before the doors close, Brian sticks his leg through and the doors pop back open. He pulls me the short distance from the elevator to door 4701, barely allowing his lips to leave mine.
I think for a second what this would look like if Mark was here in the hallway. This isn’t something I’d want him to see—but it’s completely natural at the same time, a girlfriend greeting her boyfriend who has been out of town for a few days. I shouldn’t feel guilty kissing Brian.
So why do I?
I take a step out of Brian’s orbit as he unlocks the door. The condo is empty when we walk in, and I can’t help the relief that spasms right in the middle of my chest.
Brian leads me through the space toward his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind us. I’m suddenly thankful for the soundproof walls in here—not because I care if someone’s on the other side of the door making noise, but because I don’t want anyone to hear what’s going on in here. Specifically Mark.
Just like in the elevator, no time is wasted. Brian grabs for me, roughly yanking my shirt over my head and tossing it on the floor while he simultaneously kicks off his shoes. My shoes come off next, followed by his shirt. I allow my fingertips to run over the cuts of muscle I missed while he was gone, and then I lean forward and run my tongue across his abdomen while my hand trails lower to grip him again. He leans his head back and growls, and then he pulls me up and makes quick work of getting me out of my jeans and panties before taking care of his own pants.
He kneels on the floor once we’re both naked with his mouth between my legs. He grabs onto my hips and positions my body over his face, and then his tongue swipes through my heat. I grip onto his hair because the pleasure is too much, too quick, and I feel like I might fall over from it if I don’t hold onto something.
I let out an erotic moan, a sound low and needy to my own ears. His tongue enters me first, then his fingers join in. I want to touch him, to hold him in my hand while he does this, but the pleasure is so fierce that I can’t even think straight. I grind down onto his face as he fucks me with his tongue, and then I glance down at him and watch as he strokes himself with his free hand.
He groans into me, and the vibration of the sound sends me into my first orgasm of the night. I keep my eyes on him as my body contracts around his tongue and his fingers, watching as his strokes become faster, more furious. As soon as my body calms enough for me to take control, I do.
I kneel and set my hand over his that’s still working up and down. “Let me.”
His eyes meet mine, then he lets go of himself before he stands. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He stands above me, fierce and foreboding, and my body still aches for him, aches for more.
I grab hold of him and suck him into my mouth, and his hands find the back of my head. He pushes my face onto him, forcing me to take him deeper than is comfortable, but I do it because I want to please him in the same way he just pleased me. Part of me wishes this was sweeter, gentler after being apart, but the other part of me loves the carnality of it.
“Oh my God,” he groans, and then he pulls out of my mouth and grabs himself again to finish the job all over my naked chest.
He stares down at me as he pants. His eyes flash with lust, and I get the feeling he’s not done yet. He steps away and comes back with a wet towel. He wipes my chest clean, and then he helps me up from my position on the floor.
“Shower with me,” he says, and I nod.
He sets the water hotter than I usually like it, and steam rises all around us. He soaps me up and runs his hands along my soapy breasts. His hands slip across my body, stopping to tweak a nipple. He bends to kiss me while he holds my nipple in his grip, and I groan into him. I need more of him—I need all of him.
He turns me around and pushes my back lightly so I bend at the hips, and then he slides a long finger into me. I moan at the feel of it, and then his finger is quickly replaced with something much bigger. I grunt at the intrusion, but then he starts driving his hips against me and I’m lost again in the pleasure. I want to kiss him, want to feel the intimacy, but he’s fucking me hard from behind in the shower. He’ll snuggle with me in the bed when we’re done. He’ll kiss me later. For now, it’s all need and aches and pleasure.
He hammers away at me, pushing my body closer and closer to release. I feel his body swell inside of me before he lets out a series of moans, and then he slips out of me.
He inserts his finger again and thrusts it in and out, hooking it up to hit that spot inside so few have ever hit, and then he pulls his fingers out and rubs me until I fall into another shattering orgasm.
* * *
A whispered curse somewhere next to me pulls me out of a deep sleep.
“Fuck.”
I turn over and squint. Brian’s cell phone lights his face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Something’s fucked up with the deal I just made with Germany. I need to go to the office.”
I sit up in bed. I’m naked, I realize, so I grab the sheet and pull it up over my chest. “Right now?” I squint over at the clock. It’s a little after midnight. We’ve only been asleep an hour or two at most.
“Yeah.” He leans over to kiss me. “Right now.”
I sort of expected an apology. I realize it’s not his fault, but it seems like human nature to apologize when you’ve woken someone in the middle of the night with a curse word—or when someone ditches you after giving you two orgasms in one night.
I lie back down and feign sleep. I’m sure he doesn’t want me here if his brother is just down the hall, but I’m not driving home after someone woke me in the middle of the night, not to mention the glasses of wine I had—even if I drank the wine several hours ago.
“Reese?” he asks softly a few minutes later. I think I might’ve fallen back asleep in the couple minutes he took to get dressed.
“Hmm?” I murmur.
There’s a pause, then Brian’s voice comes back in a whisper. “Get some sleep.”
I fall back asleep only to be woken what seems like five minutes later.
A mouth presses tenderly to mine as a body covers me. The weight presses on me, but it’s a good feeling—a warm feeling. A loving, gentle feeling.
He’s back, and he’s treating me so differently than he did just a few hours ago. Fingertips sweep some hair away from my forehead, and then the mouth on mine opens. I’m still in the groggy state of half-sleepiness, but when his minty tongue starts to slide against mine with leisure, with such a different and hot passion, my body starts to awaken.
I wrap my arms around him with a soft moan. He’s leaner than he was a few hours ago.
And that’s when I catch the distinct scent of fresh laundry mixed with sandalwood.
I pull back instantly. I should’ve known immediately. Brian isn’t this gentle with me.
I’m still in Brian’s bed after having sex with him a few hours ago. This is wrong, no matter how right it feels.
“Wh—what are you doing here?” I stutter into the darkness.
“I can’t stay away,” he whispers. He buries his face into the soft place between my neck and my naked shoulder, peppering my skin with kisses. His mouth trails over to my chest, and he kisses both of my breasts without pulling my nipple into his mouth. I want it—I want him to suck, hard—but he needs my permission first. He needs me to kiss back, to wrap my arms around him, to show him this is okay.
It’s not okay.
It’s wrong.
But then his deft fingers travel a path along my body like they’ve done before, and tingles explode in my chest and permeate my bloodstream. My nerves come alive, my blood heats, my stomach drops.
I want this.
His lips move back to my neck and then to my lips, and I fear I’m not strong enough to push him away. I’ve done it one too many times, and I can’t do it again.
I need to ask him why he’s here. I need to know if he had something to do with the call Brian took in the middle of the night. I need to know if he’s for real, if his feelings for me are genuine, or if this is just some big competition between brothers and I’m the ultimate prize.
But I don’t ask any of those questions because Mark Ashton is on top of me and only one singular thought is in my mind. Need. His lips are on my skin and his hand trails slowly along my thigh just like that night that flashes incessantly through my mind.
Every cell in my body aches for him. It has since our one night.
I arch my back, pushing my pelvis toward him as I wrap my arms around his middle, and he grunts over me.
“Is this okay?” he whispers. “I need this to be okay.”
I don’t answer with words.
Instead, I cover his mouth with mine and reach for the hem of his shirt.