“Sometimes. Maybe.” She shivered at the thought. Memories of endless kisses on the bench seat of his old pickup truck returned with sizzling clarity.
Ryan had accused her of being hung up on Brody and she’d denied it to him the same way she so often denied it to herself. But since she hadn’t managed a solid relationship with any of the guys she’d dated since the man in front of her, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to prove in no uncertain terms that she could put Brody in her past. She could sleep with him, see that sex with him wasn’t the monumental experience her brain had built it up to be, and walk away from him for good.
It had been his idea, after all. He would hardly be surprised if she sent him packing in the morning.
“I’ve thought about it, too,” he admitted, his striped dress shirt open over a gray T-shirt that followed the lines of his perfectly maintained bod. “A lot. Too much lately.”
“Belated guilt?” she guessed, thinking about what it would be like to forget their shared past and launch herself into the arms of her fantasy man. No way could he live up to her memories of him. All the better for shuttling him out of her memory so she could get on with her life. “Better late than never, I guess.”
All thought of sending him away tonight was fading. Maybe it had been a moot point since the moment she’d opened her door. Something about his presence in her living room—asking for a replay of the past—felt inevitable. Destined.
“It’s not guilt that made me drive two hours in a downpour.” His gaze shifted south to linger on her mouth. “I couldn’t see the road half the time.”
“You’re too reckless by half,” she accused, her tongue darting along her suddenly dry lips.
Now that she’d given herself permission to be with him just this once, her body was responding with enthusiasm.
“There was a time you had a bit of a reckless streak yourself.” He twined a hand behind her neck and she was lost.
She wasn’t sure how she’d feel in the morning when Brody was excised from her life forever. But by her calculation, she had a good seven hours before she needed to worry about it.
“I think you bring out the brash side of me.” The man was an electric spark. He jolted everyone and everything around him.
And, tomorrow morning aside, Naomi couldn’t wait for her dose of sizzle.
SHE WAS GOING TO LET HIM STAY.
Brody read it in her eyes the second before he kissed her, and the magnitude of that gift hit him like a fastball to the chest. His heart damn near stopped.
Thankfully, the forward momentum of his mouth never slowed.
Her lips met his in a slow dance he hadn’t forgotten. This was Naomi. His girl. The One Who Got Away—but only because he’d let her go.
Shutting down the old thoughts before they stole tonight from him, too, Brody forgot everything else but kissing her. Fingers tunneling through her hair, he freed the jeweled headband to slip to the floor, welcoming the silken slide of the strands on his skin. He angled her head, deepening the kiss, giving her as much as she asked for. More.
Her hands roamed his back, her touch even more potent than he remembered. She traced the muscles he’d fought for in daily training sessions, her fingers missing nothing in their thorough tour of his upper body.
He drew her closer, lifting her up off the couch to sit on his lap, cradling her against him. She fit him perfectly, all lean curves and sleek limbs as she wound herself around him. Seeking even more contact.
But then, Naomi had never been the kind of person to doubt herself once she made a decision. She gave a hundred and ten percent to whatever she chose in life and—for tonight at least—she’d chosen him. Making no attempt to hide her hunger, she splayed a hand across his chest and slid it around his shoulder, sealing herself to him.
His control slipped a bit more and he pulled her hips tight to his. Their kiss heated, their tongues battling out an old score their bodies would settle once and for all.
“Do you need a bed?” No one had ever accused him of any great finesse with women, and he regretted the harsh sound of the words as they croaked from his throat.
For all of a second and a half.
Naomi’s eyes were unfocused and desire-filled as she stared up at him and frowned.
“Hell, no.” She traced his lower lip with her finger. “A bed is at least twenty feet away and I’m not giving you any chance to change your mind.”
He might have smiled, but the need to put his mouth back on hers was so fierce, he didn’t have time to.
Outside, the rain escalated to impossible volume, drowning out any other sounds. The primal, driving force of it echoed everything inside him, his relentless need for the woman in his arms.
Spearing a hand beneath her shirt, he covered the creamy skin with questing fingers. He made quick work of the hooks on her bra, a smooth expanse of satin that he pulled off along with her shirt.
Breaking the kiss, he had to see her, to revere what he’d unveiled. She was as curvy as he remembered, her breasts generous for her small frame. The taut pink crests were rosy and slightly upturned, awaiting his mouth. Gladly, he obliged.
Tilting her back, he supported her with one arm and cupped the soft weight of her breast with his free hand. He kneaded her warm flesh, watching the way her eyes slid to half-mast, her breathing growing frantic.
Lowering his lips to one tight peak, he circled the tip with his tongue, drawing out the moment before he drew her deep in his mouth to suckle her. Not even the rain could smother her cry as he lavished kisses there.
Not content to savor her with his mouth alone, he trailed a hand down her stomach to the waistband of her thin cotton pajama pants. Unfastening the drawstring, he freed the waist, but didn’t penetrate the barrier yet, preferring to linger over the heat of her skin and the feel of her in his arms. He dipped a finger into the small depression of her belly button and she arched hard, calling out his name.
And then, playtime was over.
Naomi twisted his shirt in her hand, gripping the fabric tight to drag one layer and then the other up his shoulders and off. She slipped free from his grasp when he moved to help her, her pajama pants sliding to the floor to reveal a hot-pink thong with a rhinestone star on each hip. His hands were on her instantly, framing her waist, but she still wasn’t done with him. Her fingers plucked at his belt buckle, wrenching leather this way and that until she’d unfastened the belt, button and zipper in record time.
A flash of lightning crackled again, its appearance coinciding with a soft pop and the loss of electricity. The lamps faded to black, casting the room in darkness save for the bursts of lightning that provided a strobe effect.
If Naomi was concerned about the power outage, she sure didn’t show it. Her fingers never wavered from a slow track down his abs to the waistband of his shorts.
“Damn,” she whispered softly, leaning to press a kiss on his chest, her tongue darting out to trace a teasing circle just above his heart.
“What?” He didn’t want to interrupt what was happening between them, but for her he’d fix anything and everything that ticked her off.
“I didn’t get to see the best part,” she confided, her fingers slipping into his shorts to stroke the hard length of him.
“I think I could have fixed that problem if you’d waited to touch me.” Heat seared his skin, flaying his insides and torching all rational thought. “Now, I can’t do anything but this.”
He picked her up and held her against his chest, positioning the vee of her thighs to press against the tip of his erection. Lights flashed behind his eyes that didn’t have a damn thing to do with the storm. Naomi’s arms wrapped around him, clinging. Her breasts swelled against his chest.