“Guess what arrived?” Bran said into his phone on his way to the parking lot. He passed the golf shop and lifted his head in greeting to Wes standing outside with Harlow in his arms. He swung in close and planted a kiss on Harlow’s chubby cheek then kept on walking.

“Hey!” Wes shouted. “Where’s the fire?”

Bran held up a hand without looking back. He had no time to talk to his brother, though he would have liked to spend time with Harlow. He’d make up for it with a visit to his niece later. Right now, he had important things to do with his girlfriend.

“Which pieces?” Ireland asked, her tone somewhat distracted. He could hear her fingers raining down on a keyboard in the background.

Ireland had been working late the last few nights as she and her boss planned the new project in Las Vegas. She was also helping Cali with the wedding, which was quickly approaching. So basically, Bran got to visit her in bed. He wasn’t complaining, but he enjoyed spending quality time with his girlfriend outside of the bedroom too. Though, right now, all he could think about was making love to her, so good luck with that.

“The dining set,” he said. “You know what that means?”

“We get to eat food at a table?”

Bran chuckled. “So little imagination? I’m on my way home. Join me and I’ll show you what I have in mind.”

The typing in the background stopped abruptly. “I was going to get a few more things done…”

“You sound undecided. I’ve got food from Prime and chocolate lava cake in my hands.”

“Damn you…” She let out a long sigh. “How many lava cakes?”

“One for each of us. And homemade whipped cream.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

He grinned. “Is dessert all I’m good for? What about my handsome face and charming disposition? Don’t you want to spend time with your man?”

She lowered her voice. “I’ve spent every night at your place this week. And it’s not because I’m getting good sleep.” He heard the smile in her voice. “Your handsome face and charming disposition are too potent.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No. But one of these days, we’re going to sleep for fourteen hours straight. And I mean sleep, not the other things we’ve been doing in bed.”

“That’s an interesting concept. I’ll consider it. Did you bring an overnight bag to work?”

She hesitated. “Maybe.”

He took that as a yes. “I like a woman who’s prepared. See you in a few.”

Ireland knocked on Bran’s front door, her shoulders stiff from sitting at her desk all day.

Bran opened the door and greeted her with a grin, his hair damp on the ends from a recent shower. The scent of clean, soapy man wafted out in waves, and he wore a fitted T-shirt and jeans that hung low on his hips, his feet bared.

And there went the belly flutters. Yep, no sleep tonight. Whatever. The man was irresistible, and she wanted to lick him.

Bran’s smile widened and he winked.

Okay, so she was tired and her ogling wasn’t so stealthy.

“Let me get that for you,” he said, and grabbed her bag.

Ireland entered the house that was looking fuller by the week, with the addition of a couch and the dining set Bran had mentioned over the phone. His dining area was just to the left of the living room, with a window overlooking the forest and backyard. Where they’d had hot, hot sex.

Her face heated—damned redheaded trait. Gave her away every time.

And then she noticed other scents besides her sexy boyfriend. Bran had set out dinner on the new table. “The furniture looks great, but the food… I forgot to eat lunch, and the food looks and smells like heaven.”

Bran set her bag at the foot of the stairs and walked up behind her, pushing her hair aside and kissing the back of her neck.

She shivered beneath his touch. “Don’t start that,” she said. “I’m serious, I’m about to pass out from starvation.”

“Can’t have that.” He gestured for her to have a seat at the table. “Everything’s ready for you.”

Why did she think he was referring to more than food? Because he was naughty, that was why, and his eyes glinted with mischief. Which didn’t bother her one bit.

Bran entered the kitchen. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Vodka,” she said.

He arched an eyebrow. “Rough day?”

Ireland picked up a knife and fork then paused. She wanted to grab the slab of steak on her plate and jam it in her mouth. But manners.

“Go ahead and start,” he said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“You have no idea,” she said, answering his initial question and cutting into the juicy meat. “One of the reasons I forgot lunch was because I spent another lunch break bridesmaid dress shopping with Cali and Gen. You’d think Cali would obsess over her wedding gown, but no, she has to go aggro over the bridesmaid dresses. Plum or silver blue? Long or short?”

“What color did she settle on?” He placed a short tumbler of vodka in front of her.

“A long, asymmetrical V-neck in a rosy latte color.” She took a bite of the steak, her eyes closing in ecstasy. The room went silent and she blinked.

Bran stared at her mouth. “First of all, when you moan like that with your eyes closed, it gives me ideas, and you said you wanted to eat first. Second, I have no idea what any of that means. Are you designing a house or picking out a dress?”

“Picking out a dress. And don’t worry. You don’t need to know what any of that means. Just as long as you tell me I look good when the time comes. You’ll be my date for Cali’s wedding, won’t you?”

He sat beside her, a bottle of Blue Moon in his hand. He leaned over and kissed her lips. “I’d love to be your date.”

She swallowed her food and grinned. She was the luckiest girl on the planet. Busy or not, sleep or no sleep, it was all good, because she was happier than she’d ever been in her life.

Bran started eating the food on his plate, and they chatted about their days. It occurred to Ireland that this was the real deal. She’d been in relationships before, but she was a couple with Bran. He supported her and she supported him. And when their bodies came together…fireworks.

Ireland cleared her throat. She’d just polished off the chocolate volcano cake and was feeling warm and satisfied, which had her thinking about other things… “So,” she said, running her fingers over the new table. “You like the table?”

Bran’s gaze tracked her fingers as he took a swig of beer, having polished off his own food long before her, even though he’d started eating after her. “You did a great job picking it out.”

She rested her head on her hand. “I only helped.”

Bran drummed his fingers on the table, his gaze set on her mouth. “Looks aren’t the true determinant of a quality piece of furniture.”

“They’re not?” she said, smiling.

“Maybe we should stress-test it. You know, for durability.”

She slid her finger across her bottom lip, as though considering the suggestion. “We wouldn’t want something flimsy.”

Bran sucked in a breath and stood abruptly. He started moving items from the table to the kitchen island. Before Ireland could help, he had the dishes off and was sweeping napkins onto the floor.

He sauntered toward her. “Now, where were we?” he said, and pulled her up and into his arms. “Oh right, stress-testing the new furniture.”

Bran slid his hands down the back of her legs and picked her up, gently setting her on the table. “So far so good.” He pressed his hands onto the table beside her hips, as though gauging it for strength.

Ireland laughed. “It’s brand new. What if we break it?”

He looked at her in all seriousness. “I can’t own a wimpy table. It will ruin my masculine mystique.”

Ireland bent over and laughed, and Bran was smiling too…while taking off her top one button at a time.

“You have no blinds. Anyone can see inside,” she said.

“Who?” he murmured over the curve of her breast, exposed now that he’d gotten her top halfway unbuttoned. “There’s nothing out there but trees and bears.”

“Bears?”

“Mm-hmm,” he said, unbuttoning the rest of her top and discarding it. He curved his hands around her breasts.

Ireland leaned back, and Bran stepped between her legs, pressing his body flush with hers. “So the bears were watching us have sex in the back of your truck?” she said on a high squeak as he wrapped his mouth around her nipple through her bra.

“Probably cheering us on,” he murmured against her delicate flesh, setting off mini sparks between her legs.

Impatient with the clothing barrier, Ireland reached behind to unhook her bra, but Bran beat her to it, flicking it off with one hand.

“How do you know those tricks? You’re not a player.”

“Nope, I’m a lover.” He wrapped his hands around her bared breasts and licked and loved them with his mouth.

Ireland gave up the fight and slumped the rest of the way onto the table. She sensed the zipper give on her black dress pants and Bran’s hands sliding them, along with her panties, down her legs.

He slid her ass to the edge of the table and pushed her knees up.

Ireland glanced down—to see the sexiest image of all time. Bran’s head was between her legs, and he licked his lips, staring right at the center of her. And then his mouth was on her and she was writhing.

“More skills…you’re not…supposed to be so good at,” she said in spurts between panting.

He kissed the crease between her leg and the center of her. “I could do this all day.”

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. “Don’t let me stop you.”

But it didn’t take him all day, because within another minute, his magic tongue and fingers had her reaching her peak and crying out.

Ireland slowly came down from an explosive orgasm and gave him a lazy grin. Then she frowned. “Why are you still dressed?”

“Because you were too busy enjoying my loving ways to care.”

“True. And I thank you for that. But now I need you naked.”

“Your wish is my command.” He reached behind his neck and pulled his T-shirt over his head, dropping it on the floor and giving Ireland a spectacular view of broad, muscular shoulders, toned pecs, and a defined six-pack.

She wanted him inside her. Like, now.

He flicked the top button on his jeans and slid them down his legs, watching her the entire time. He wore no underwear.

Ireland’s mouth went dry. “Commando today?”

“You got a problem with that?”

She shook her head. “No problem at all.” He was long and hard and ready for her. “You’re killing me with the slow striptease.”

She started to sit up, imagining her mouth around him, when he pressed his hand to her belly, keeping her where she was.

He took her mouth with his and positioned himself at her entrance. His other hand moved from her belly to her lower back, where he pulled her forward, forcing her breasts up. And then he thrust inside her, his mouth moving down and sucking her neck.

The table shook, her body shook, and another climax was building. “Will it break?” she asked breathily.

“Don’t care.” Bran shifted slightly, arching her back more, and she started to unravel.

Her body pulsed and Bran picked up speed, thrusting inside her. She was falling, crying out, liquefying around him.

A second later, he bit her shoulder lightly and groaned out his own release.

And that was when it hit her. Slowly, filtering in through an orgasm haze of mass proportions…they hadn’t used a condom.

And she wasn’t on the pill.

Shit.