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  My body finally wins.

  He laughs then kisses me in a way that nobody ever has or will again, a kiss that tears the breath from my lungs and drags the remaining parts of my heart and soul into his, into the place created for me. This kiss holds passion, need, and more.

  I disentangle myself, and he strokes my face with the back of his hand. “Let’s finish this date first.”

  Bryn hugs me around the shoulders and bewildered by the change of pace, I allow him to walk us back into the busy streets. We arrive at a bustling bar, a larger venue filled with noise and students, where Bryn takes us to the crowded bar.

  “I don’t want a drink!” I call in his ear. What I want is to go back to the hotel with him.

  “Let’s dance then!’ he calls back.

  I widen my eyes in horror. I can’t dance.

  Without waiting for a reply, Bryn drags me into the centre of the crowd of bodies on the small dance floor nearby and pulls me close.

  I don’t know how long we dance, or how often I trip over my feet, or step on Bryn’s because I’m lost. The Bryn I met has always been a joker, a liver of life, spontaneous and a little crazy, but there was a shadow around him that’s gone. The man with me now, this tall, sexy, fantasy of a man who teased me when we met, kissed me like there’s no tomorrow, and looks at me as if I’m his world, is infectiously happy.

  We laugh, we dance, we let go – to the night, to us, to the future. Wrapped together, kissing at the edge of the dance floor, I’m unaware of anything but the heat between us at the points our bodies touch, the taste of the man who’s giving himself to me, and the euphoria of being held in the arms of Bryn Hughes, the guy who took my heart, but returned it to me with his.

  ****

  We head back to the hotel, holding hands as we wander the cobbled streets. Bryn suggests another drink at the hotel bar, putting off the moment when we decide where the evening is heading. Sitting close in a darkened corner, bodies moulded naturally together, I cuddle into Bryn’s side. As we drink and chat, Bryn constantly strokes my skin or kisses my head, a caring intimacy that’s his final step toward me. This is real, and true; I felt it in his thumping heart beneath my palm outside, in his kiss.

  Where will tonight go? Do I take my final step toward Bryn too?

  “My feet hurt,” I complain, “If I’d known I was going to be on my feet half the night, I’d have worn sneakers.” I kick my heeled shoes off, under the table.

  “Here.” Bryn shifts around and pulls my feet onto his lap before starting to massage them.

  I have this unfortunate reaction to people touching my feet because instead of tickling, it turns me on. Bryn’s fingers are firm, relieving one ache but creating another.

  “Do you have a foot fetish?” I ask him, fighting the accompanying thoughts.

  This is going to happen.

  “It’s an excuse to touch you.” He looks up from my feet.

  “Feet are horrible.”

  “Not yours, yours are small and cu–”

  “Pay attention to the fact my foot is in your lap before you finish that sentence, Bryn,” I interrupt.

  “Good point.”

  Bryn’s fingers head up to my ankle and his fingers trace my calf.

  “That’s not my foot.”

  “I know.” He shifts his hand higher, beneath the cotton dress falling across my knees until he lightly strokes my inner thigh, watching for my reaction.

  Holy crap.

  “Bryn!”

  Smirking, he shifts closer. “Want to come to my room for a sleepover?” As he talks, Bryn circles my skin with his thumb and I’m filled with a mix of panic and arousal. He can’t touch me there. Not here.

  “You’re very forward,” I say and grab his hand, pushing it down my leg.

  “Forward? I’ve known you months!” He pushes my hand away and continues his explorations.

  “Not here! Stop it!”

  Every touch, every look, every kiss this evening has wiped away the last two months and brought us back to the point in January when we had the choice to stop or keep going. This time Bryn opened up, told me what I needed to hear; I suspect ‘love’ isn’t a throwaway word for this man. Bryn holds his face teasingly close while I attempt and fail to control my breathing. I swallow and close my eyes, anticipating his lips on mine again.

  His hand remaining on my thigh, Bryn’s lips surprise me, moving softly against mine, as he waits for my reaction. He stops and I shift closer and curl my hand around his neck, relishing the taste of the man who’s danced back into my fantasies. There’s something in a kiss that holds as much intimacy as the rawness of sex. With the kiss, we exchange a long-awaited desire that will be realised tonight.

  “Sleepover?” His eyes glint in the light from the lamp on the table. The innocence of the term contrasted with his not innocent intentions triggers the wet heat between the thighs he’s exploring.

  “Are you inviting me back to your room?” I ask.

  Bryn’s hand hovers centimetres from my dampening panties and he kisses below my ear. “No, I’m taking you to bed.”

  “How do you know I want to?” I ask.

  “Cariad, if I move my fingers any higher, I’ll get the answer, won’t I?” he whispers against my cheek.

  I squirm away from his hand and Bryn finally moves it south, tracking his rough fingers along my skin as he does. “Bryn Hughes, you’re a bad man,” I say breathlessly.

  “Maybe, but I’m also very good.” Bryn stands and takes my hand, pulling me to my feet. “I can show you how good.”

  As I stumble into him, he pulls me close and I’m shocked by his arousal pushing against my stomach.

  “Just one thing,” he says, “I won’t be involved in your kinky fantasies.”

  “What?”

  “The night I met you, you said something about wanting a man who ties you up?”

  “Jesus, Bryn. You know I didn’t mean that!” He bites his lip and I smack him in the chest. “Stop teasing!”

  “Oh, you think this is teasing? Just you wait.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  AVERY

  Original features of the old building adorn Bryn’s hotel room – old-fashioned furniture, beams in the ceiling and hideous fleur-de-lys wallpaper. The floral bed is neat. Somehow, the décor in the room isn’t going to be what sticks in my mind tomorrow or whenever I look back at this night.

  “This is strange,” I say as Bryn tugs me close from behind and rests his chin on my head.

  “How?”

  “Me and you. This is a shock, the things you said tonight. Up until a couple of days ago, I never wanted to see you again.”

  Bryn turns me around and runs his finger along my cheek, the intent in his darkened eyes clear. This is what I want too. I want his lips and his hands on me, to be in his arms tonight and every night. I want Bryn in a way I never thought possible, the way the sun needs to shine and the rain needs to fall. Most of all, I want to be his. In Bryn’s eyes, there’s breath-snatching truth: I already am.

  I dig my hands beneath his shirt, tiptoeing so my mouth reaches his. Effortlessly, Bryn picks me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist, holding his face as I kiss him. Bryn responds with an engulfing passion, our teeth clashing as he backs me against the wall. I tear my mouth away to catch my breath and Bryn shifts his attention to my neck, kissing and nipping my skin.

  Beneath his hands and mouth, I disintegrate into pleasure, digging my nails into Bryn’s back to keep myself grounded, trembling.

  “Bryn,” I whisper as he dips his tongue into the hollow of my neck.

  “What?”

  “I never said.”

  “What?” His words are distant, pre-occupied.

  “About how I feel.”

  Bryn ignores me and pushes me harder against the wall, sliding his hand along my thigh. “You feel good to me.”

  “How I feel about you.”

  “You’re about to have what I guarantee will be mind-blowing sex wi
th me, when you said you never would. I think I know,” he says mouth not leaving my skin.

  At his promise, I grip him harder, as he pushes my dress higher, large palm against my ass, his obvious arousal pressing against me.

  “I know, but…”

  Sighing, Bryn drops me to the floor. “Stop talking and tell me how to get this dress off.” Finding the zip on the side, Bryn tugs but it doesn’t move. He growls in frustration and pulls harder.

  “Don’t tear my dress!”

  “Get out of it then!”

  “You’re a bit bossy, aren’t you?”

  Bryn pulls both straps of my dress from my shoulders and runs his tongue along my collarbone before meeting my mouth. “Get your clothes off.” The movement of his lips on mine travels into every nerve ending, my body aching for him.

  I pull my head back and raise an eyebrow. “You do know it’s me you’re dealing with here, and I don’t–”

  In a swift movement, Bryn seizes hold of me and pushes backward so I fall onto the bed, my hair splaying across the sheets.

  “Fine, don’t take it off. I can work with that.” Bryn kneels and settles between my legs, pushing my dress to my waist, and himself against me. As Bryn’s mouth hungrily claims mine, his hands move to my leg again, but this time when he pushes his hand up my thigh, he doesn’t stop. I gasp as he runs a finger along my panties. The fervour of his hands and mouth shock and arouse me, as I give in to what my body has screamed at me to do every time I’ve been alone with Bryn.

  The taste of this man, the skill of his kisses and the way he teases, triggers my own recklessness to match Bryn’s loosening self-control. I shuffle backwards onto the bed and pull Bryn by the shirt, wanting his body covering mine. He slides his hand along my side to the zip again and as he pulls hard, I hear the seam rip.

  “Bryn!”

  “Too late.” He yanks the straps further down my shoulders and nips my skin from my earlobe to my neck as he pushes the material away exposing my bra. He pushes the satin away and his hot mouth is on the swell of my breasts instantly.

  I’m unable to move under his weight and I happily yield, lying back as Bryn pulls my dress to the floor. He explores my breasts, dragging his tongue from the edge of the soft mounds, circling my nipple. I move in response to the way his attention pulls my insides tight, and as I make a soft sound, he stops.

  “Shit. I’m squashing you, aren’t I?” His breath comes in short pants against my face.

  “It’s okay.”

  Bryn rolls onto his back, dragging me onto him and we’re nose to nose. “That’s better; I can reach your ass now.”

  He slides his hand across the lace and pushes me into his hips, closing his mouth over mine again. Our hearts hammer as our tongues slide together, a fervour in our kisses propelling us in a direction we won’t turn back from.

  I push up, sit astride him, and place a hand on Bryn’s chest. This man is pure muscle, from the hard planes of his chest to the strength of his arms gripping my hips against his solid thighs.

  Undoing shirt buttons, I slide my fingers inside, the way I’ve wanted to an uncountable number of times. As I lean down to place my lips on his hot skin, he uses the opportunity to unsnap my bra and drag it from my shoulders.

  “Off,” he says. “Let me see you.”

  The black satin bra drops onto the bed; Bryn pushes my hair from where it’s fallen across my breasts and inhales as he savours the view.

  “Do you know how hot you are?” he asks brusquely

  “Yeah, it is a bit warm in here.” I push away his shirt, smoothing my palms across his powerful shoulders.

  “You’re funny, cariad.” He touches my face, the desire in his eyes softening.

  For a moment, nothing is said; a pause almost unnoticed, but where something is exchanged in the unspoken ‘yes’, the hidden desires freed. If any part of me had worried Bryn wanted sex and nothing else, the fact I see his unguarded heart in his eyes dismisses it.

  The fleeting moment passes and Bryn tips me over on the bed again, mouth and hands on my breasts, roughly at first then switching to teasing strokes with his tongue. I pull away his shirt and drag my fingers along the knotted muscles of his back, not wanting to let go, wanting tonight to take forever and never end.

  Bryn slides his hand between us, and I part my legs, eager for him to touch me. I gasp as he pulls my panties to one side and slides his fingers between the lace and my arousal.

  Pausing he looks down, hot breath mingling with mine. “Off.”

  I nod.

  With a grin, he hooks both fingers into the lace and pulls, making a noise of satisfaction as I wriggle against him to get them off. His hand immediately returns to exploring the slick heat between my legs.

  “Fuck, you’re wet, Avery.” He slides his thumb across my clit, watching for my reaction.

  “Like you said, months.”

  Bryn’s large fingers tease as he focuses attention on my arousal, stroking my swollen clit. I shift, eager for him to explore further, fulfill the fantasies I’ve had about him for months.

  “I want you tonight,” he whispers against my ear. “If you don’t want this, tell me now because you’ll fucking kill me if we go any further and I have to stop.”

  I dig my fingers into his damp hair, struggling to focus on any coherent thought. “Did you bring condoms?”

  Lifting his head, he nudges my nose with his. “Yes.”

  “That was optimistic of you.”

  “Answer the question,” he says, frustration edging his tone.

  “I want this, Bryn.”

  “Thank fuck for that.” Bryn sits back and I pout at the loss of his hands and damp skin against mine. “Be right back.”

  Lying back naked on the bed, I stare at the cracked ceiling, blood pounding through my body, alight with a trembling need for Bryn. No doubt edges in, my need for Bryn courses red-hot through my veins.

  Bryn reappears from the bathroom with a box of condoms that he throws on the bed next to us.

  “Right, where was I?”

  “About to take the rest of your clothes off?” I suggest. The sentence is barely out and Bryn’s undressing; his clothes hit the floor and he grabs a condom from the box.

  Whoa. Naked Bryn. Six-foot-three of solid muscle, ink etched across his arms and torso. I drop my gaze to the ‘V’ shape heading toward the part of Bryn I’ve wondered about at times when I really shouldn’t. He’s a big guy and… he’s a big guy.

  Mesmerised, I watch as he rolls on a condom, eyes on me the whole time. There’s something erotic in Bryn touching himself, his hand sliding against his hard length that intensifies the heat between my legs. I have never wanted sex with a man to this degree before. I don’t know if denying myself Bryn for months has an effect, but until this man fills me with pleasure, I’m a combustible mass of hormones.

  “I want you so bad,” he says, hoarsely kneeling on the floor and dragging me by the legs to the edge of the bed. Bryn presses himself against me, as he kisses me again.

  Months of denying my body to this man, I don’t want to mess around. When we walked in here ten minutes ago, Bryn could’ve thrown me on the bed, pulled my panties off without touching me, then screwed me and I’d have been ready for him because the touches when we were downstairs aroused me enough. Bryn slides against me, hot breath intermingled with kisses as he holds his weight away. The tension in his arms and face evidence his attempt at self-control but his eyes still hold Bryn’s tenderness. The raw passion that bubbles beneath Bryn’s gentle surface won’t be held back much longer, the depth of his kiss and insistence of his hands ramping my own desire.

  Bryn sits back on his heels and I shiver at the loss of his heat. I push up on my elbows and look down at him. He slides a finger in his mouth, eyes fixed on mine. “You taste so good.”

  His lips touch my thigh, and Bryn runs his tongue along the skin, following the trail his fingers did in the bar earlier. He drags my leg onto his shoulder; face closer to m
y sex, his hot breath against me. I squirm against being this exposed to him; but before I have a chance to catch up with what he’s doing, Bryn skims his tongue along the heated flesh. As he reaches my clit, he sucks and I cry out without meaning to.

  Bryn explores with skillful strokes and when I shift against him, he grips my legs so I can’t move. Continuing his attentions, he slides a finger inside and I grip the sheets, biting my lip against swearing as Bryn matches the movement of his tongue with his fingers. He focuses on me, pulling me into a world of pleasure as each moment passes; the bliss builds inside and I edge toward the brink I don’t want to reach yet. “No. Stop.”

  Bryn looks up at me. “Why?”

  “I want you inside me,” I murmur, shifting against his hand in an attempt to get away.

  Bryn releases my legs and moves upward, supporting himself on his hands as he looks down at me. His breath comes in short pants to match mine and I tremble as his mouth closes over my nipple again. Frustrated, I take hold of Bryn’s length and guide it toward the place aching for him. Bryn stops and looks down at me. “I have wanted this for so fucking long, Avery, you have no idea.”

  “Don’t wait then,” I grumble.

  The barely controlled lust in his eyes extends to the trembling in his arms, and eyes on mine, he slowly eases into me. I make a small noise of pleasure and he stops.

  “Okay?”

  I nod, unable to focus on anything and push my hips against his. Bryn groans and pushes further, digging his fingers into my ass as he groans and thrusts into me harder. Wrapping my legs around Bryn, I savour the sensation of Bryn filling me. He moves inside me, gently at first and then harder, the momentum hitting the sweet spot he found with his fingers earlier. I tip my head back, trying to meet his eyes but I only reach his shoulder, and I nip him.

  “What?” I ask when he pauses.

  “If we do this missionary, I can’t kiss you.”

  I bite my lip. Missionary is what I always pictured but with twelve-inches height difference between us, I see his point. I curl my fingers around Bryn’s taught biceps. “I want to kiss you.”

  “I want to look you in the eyes when I do this, Avery.” He sits back again and pulls me onto his lap, still inside me. I groan at the deeper penetration as he grips my hips, stilling our movement. Damp skin touching his, I link my arms around his neck, my hardened nipples against his taut chest adding to the ache. Our mouths find each other, and we kiss hard and deep, tongues battling until Bryn pulls his mouth from my swollen lips. I lick the taste of him from my mouth and we lock gazes again.