Game Changer (28 page)

The fire in his eyes threatened to incinerate them both where they stood. “Baby, we were never meant to be friends.”

Then his mouth descended over hers, aggressive and demanding, and so, so hot.

Self-preservation be damned. She would survive this. She could give her body and heart to Brandon and emerge from the experience just as whole as she'd been before. Heartache wasn't going to kill her.

She hooked her arms around his neck and clung to his shoulder blades and the back of his head, locking him to her, taking what she needed. Taking her due—all of it this time.

He backed her against the closed front door, rattling it on its hinges. His hands roved over her dress, up her sides, curving with her waist. When his hands fanned out over her chest, as though searching for breasts that weren't there, he broke from the kiss.

Breathing hard through a clenched jaw, he took her chin in his hands and forced her gaze to meet his. “You faked it with me last time. You're not going to get away with that again. Not tonight. Not ever.”

Yes, she had faked it. The pressure had been too much and her body had chosen that night, of all nights, not to cooperate. She'd been so angry at him for leaving her, so angry to think that he might be the last man who touched her breasts and yet he didn't care about her, really. She wasn't about to apologize to him now.

Then his hands were moving again, around the back of her. His fingers found the zipper of her dress and slid it down. The skin on her back connected with the cold painted wood of the door behind her, evoking a shudder from her body.

His parted lips twisted into a hard smile. He kissed her again, his mouth harsh and demanding, reminding her of the way he'd kissed her on the ice at the Iceplex.

He hands moved to the straps of her dress and pushed them from her shoulders. “I'm not going to stop tonight until I've mastered the art of your orgasm, and that's a promise you can take to the bank.”

His hands gripped her dress at her hips and pulled until the fabric pooled around her ankles. “I'm going to learn how to command your body. I'm going to memorize the way your body moves when you come. I'm going to find out what you feel like against my face and my dick, and what you taste like, in that moment. You're going to unravel in my bed tonight, over and over again, until I'm satisfied that there's nothing left about you to discover.”

She hooked her fingers behind his tie and drew him close to kiss him, but he evaded her efforts. He gripped the sides of her panties and yanked them down.

He rocked back on his heel, gazing at her through eyes of liquid fire. She held her chin high and let him look, trying not to think about the last time he'd seen her scars. It was hopeless. Her arms crept inward, her hands moving to shield herself.

Seizing hold of her wrists, he pinned her hands against the wall over her head, hard enough that she gasped. His head bent. He dragged his lips along her neck. “I am going to fuck every inch of your body, including those scars. Those beautiful, beautiful scars.”

Her eyes squeezed closed. She rubbed her cheek against his hair, arousal winning out over self-consciousness. She'd never wanted a man so badly in her life as she did Brandon in that moment.

“Do you understand me, Harper?” he murmured against her skin. “Do you understand what I'm going to take from you tonight?”

She dragged her teeth and lips along his jaw, her body aching with impossible need. “Everything.”

“Damn right I am.” He released one wrist, but jerked the other forward, dragging her to the bedroom like a man possessed.

He wasn't treating her gently enough. Even through the fog of need and anger swirling within him, he realized that he was being too rough, too demanding.

He'd meant to be gentle. When he'd visualized how he'd confess his true feelings to her, he'd pictured himself as suave and seductive, doting. She deserved to be exalted like a queen. But the longer he'd stood in his kitchen and watched the clock while Harper ignored his texts and calls, the more furious he became—not at her, but at the show's producers for surprising him at the club with the prospective brides. He was still furious that his hands were tied by a contract for another four months while
Meet the Groom
was edited and aired, months in which he was obligated to pledge his love and commitment to a woman other than the one he needed by his side.

Mostly, he was furious with himself for bungling things so egregiously the last time he and Harper made love that they'd been left with little choice but to recast themselves as friends. No, the correct term for what they'd done before wasn't making love. Like Harper had so accurately said, they'd angry-screwed, plain and simple. This, what they were going to do together tonight, was making love—if he could dial down his fury and frustration enough to be the kind of lover she deserved.

It wasn't looking good, though.

He punched the light switch on the wall and the lamp near his bed flickered on. He didn't want to miss out on a single detail of her because of shadows or darkness. At the foot of the bed, he kissed her again, openmouthed, his tongue greedy. She pulled at his clothes, but he'd get to that in a minute. Right now he had work to do.

He pushed her back onto the bed, then loomed over her, mapping his course over her body while he kicked off his left shoe, then lifted his right foot and worked off that shoe with his hands. His tie and shirt went next.

She watched him through half-lidded eyes, her chest rising and falling with each panting breath. He unlatched his belt and pants, then let them and his underwear pool around his ankles and kicked them aside.

So much to explore, so many places on her body calling out for his attention. Those soft thighs, her ribs, her navel, her scars. But his decision on where to start was a gimme. No question about what he wanted first. He dropped to his knee next to the bed, pulled her ass to the edge, then peeled her legs apart.

When her body opened for him, all his anger and frustration melted away as he looked at the only pussy he'd ever taste again. A thrill buzzed through him at that realization. This was it. This was her—the one. His dick pushed against the bedframe, instantly hard. He didn't know a man could get off on something like that, on thoughts about love and forever. The ball and chain.
Fuck yeah.

Her hands clutched at the bedding on either side of her hips. He worked his hands under hers until she released the fabric and twined their fingers together. Then he lowered his face and feasted on the sweet, swollen flesh of the woman he loved.

Her body tasted even better than he remembered from the first time. The little cries she made and the way her hips squirmed were like a drug to him and he couldn't get enough. He learned her body one swipe of his tongue at a time, using her sounds to guide him.

When she turned damp, he released one of her hands, licked two fingers, and sunk them inside her, working them in unison with his mouth in a method not too dissimilar to the one he'd used in the hall at the Iceplex. But this time, they were going to rewrite that story.

“I'm going to come,” she breathed.

He pulled his hand and face away. Not yet, she wasn't.

Whimpering, she rotated her hips. “Brandon, please.”

He rose, then crawled up her body on the bed, hauling her away from the edge as he moved. His Invictus foot snagged on the bedding. He'd forgotten about that. He rolled to his side and eased it off and set it on the ground along with the sleeve.

His focus snapped back to her. He lowered on top of her, letting her taste her own flesh on his lips. He tipped her head to the side and grazed on her neck and shoulders, claiming each place he touched as his own.

Her hand slipped between their bodies, headed for her pussy. He grabbed her hand and pulled it away. “Mine,” he growled, barely recognizing his own voice. “I'll make you come when I'm ready for you to come.”

Her eyes searched his face. “What if I'm ready now?”

A corner of his lips kicked up in a grin. His hand cupped her mound. He sunk his middle finger between her folds and rotated it. Her chin tipped up and her eyes closed.

While his finger worked, he kissed a path down her neck and to her left scar. “Are your scars sensitive like my scars, or are they dull?”

“Dull.”

Even still, he licked across it with the flat top of his tongue. He would never kiss another breast again. He would never suckle a nipple or plump a breast in his hand, but how could he mind that, even a little, when it meant that Harper was healthy, when it meant that he got the gift of living with her for the rest of his life?

He closed his eyes and breathed through the emotion that tightened his throat at the thought. “Then tell me what does feel good,” he said, his voice ragged. “Tell my mouth where to go.”

She combed her fingers into his hair. “I don't know. This is the first time . . .”

She sounded distressed, so he pushed up on his elbow until his face was even with hers and let his working finger go still against her clit. “Then we'll find out together, won't we?”

Her eyes turned lost and distant, so he brought her hand to his right leg and pressed it over his stump. “Touch me here.”

She rubbed it. He groaned and dropped his head against her chest, it felt so good.

“The first time I figured out that the nerves of my amputation site had gone wonky, it was a female doctor who was touching me. I was mortified. She gave me my first amputation woodie. It's, like, the most freaky, inconvenient erogenous zone ever.”

Her expression relaxed. She rubbed it hard. He grunted, letting her know good and well the effect she was having on him. Then her hand left his leg and took hold of his dick. He hissed through his teeth and rewarded her efforts with a deep, demanding kiss before moving his mouth to the nape of her neck. Baring his teeth, he gently bit her muscle.

She arched her back, her movement on his erection pausing. “There. Yes.”

He focused his attention on her neck, but set his finger to working her clit again, rotating and dipping it into her wet heat, then repeating the rhythm until he was certain he'd gotten her out of her own head again.

Shifting his weight, he moved his dick away from her hand and knelt between her legs. He replaced his fingers with his mouth and, in no time, her cries of pleasure filled the room. This time, he let her come when she was ready. She clamped her thighs around his head and practically levitated off the bed. There was no faking the intensity of the tremors that thumped through her body with every contraction of her inner muscles.

He planted lazy kisses along her inner thigh while she came down from her orgasm. “So that's what you really sound like.”

“Oh, damn, that was good,” she breathed, her body a melted pool of flesh.

Smiling, victorious, he grabbed two pillows and lined them up next to her hips, then rolled her over onto them, her stomach and chest pressed to the bed.

He grabbed a bottle of lubricant from his nightstand drawer and drizzled it over her ass.

“And again,” he growled, rising above her.

“Again what?”

He sunk his teeth into the back of her neck at the same time his finger breached her ass. She arched against him with a half-grunt, half-whimper.

“Again, I'm going to make you come.”

He worked his finger in and out. Her toes spread and her body tensed.

“It's been a long time since a man has tried this move with me.”

“Did you like it then?”

“Sometimes. Depended on the man. And his skills.”

He grunted his amusement and slid a second finger in. Oh, he had the skills, all right.

“Are you going to take me like that tonight?” she asked.

The thought had occurred to him. “Maybe. Eventually. Not this first time, though.”

He kissed his way across her back. He traced her shoulder blades with his tongue, then outlined her spine. Her muscles relaxed around his finger, letting him claim that part of her, too, as he was the rest of her body. When her back was thoroughly explored and fully claimed by his mouth, he shifted his weight, kneeling between her legs so he could put both hands to work.

With his one hand still busy, he drizzled more lubricant over her cleft, spreading it down to her pussy. She wasn't getting very wet naturally, and for all he knew, that was a result of her surgeries messing with her hormones. He'd bath her in lube if it came to that. No problem.

He pressed two fingers into her pussy, thrusting in opposite time with his other hand. She rocked her hips up, granting him access and surrendering to his will. He bit her ass cheek until she moaned, leaving a mark and claiming that, too.

“I'm going to take you soon. You need to know that I haven't been with a woman since the last time you and I had sex, and I've been thoroughly tested as a requirement for the show. But if you want me to wear a condom, I will. No pressure. You tell me what you need from me.”

He dove face first at her other ass cheek and left a matching mark on it, then licked the tender area he'd marred. Damn, he loved the way her flesh tasted. He wanted this every night for the rest of his life.

“You haven't?” Her voice was thick with arousal.

“Haven't what?” he murmured against her skin.

“Slept with anyone?”

“No.” He pulled his fingers away from her body and stretched up along the length of her. He kissed her cheek, then captured her earlobe and suckled it into his mouth. “And if you're wondering if that choice had anything to do with you, then the answer is yes. There is no one else for me, but you.”

Her mouth fell open with a tremulous exhale. “Brandon,” she breathed.

He pressed the weight of his body over hers, one hand stroking his dick, making sure he was rock hard and ready for her. “Condom. Yes or no?”

“No.”

He took her hips in his hands and thrust into her, shouting a curse at the pleasure of it.

He took her with long, fast strokes, each slap of his hips against her ass sending ripples over her flesh. Her whole body rocked in time with his thrusts. She felt so damn good, he was burning up his willpower at an alarming rate. He was the kind of man who could orgasm more than once a night, and thank goodness, because he wasn't going to last worth a shit this time.

When her cries of pleasure simmered down, he smacked her ass, then rolled onto his back next to her. “Climb on me.”

The better to work her clit again.

While she moved, he poured lube into his hand and doused his dick with it, doused her pussy with it—everything sticky and sweaty and real. More real than anything else in his life.

She straddled him and the feeling was so tight and good, so hot and wet and right, that he moaned and gripped her hips, holding her still until the urge to orgasm had passed. Her body was flushed with arousal, her belly soft and luscious, and her gorgeous blonde hair framing her scars. “You look damn good riding me. Damn good.”

With a seductive smile, she started to move, working her body the way that felt best for her, and all the while he teased her clit, building her up again, making sure tonight was everything that their first time together hadn't been. When he sensed her getting close, he took hold of her hips and pulled her up so he could thrust hard as he pulled her down, up and down, impaling her onto his dick over and over.

She fell forward, mashing her face to his, gasping and moaning her orgasm into his mouth. Panting, her body still pulsing weakly, she pushed up and reached behind her and grasped the end of his right leg.

He grunted, his abs contracting as shot after shot of pleasure rippled through his nerves.

“Open your eyes and come for me,” she said, rocking her hips.

No problem there. When he peeled his eyelids open, she nodded her approval. “That's right. Give it to me. Now, baby.”

Breathing hard, he focused on her eyes and the work her hand was doing. He thought about her pussy milking him. He thought about how this was the woman he was going to spend the rest of his life making love to.

His orgasm was a spike of ecstasy so profound, his voice went hoarse. He ground their hips together, pumping into her, claiming that part of her body as his, too.

They collapsed on the bed, side by side. His hand smoothed absentmindedly over her leg. After a long stretch of contented silence, she hummed. “I need a shower.”

He rolled to his side and kissed a path over her chest. “Sounds good. I can make love to you just as well in the shower as here.”

Her hand fell onto his hair, petting him. “Again? Tonight?”

Hell, yes. He couldn't get enough of her. He was starving for Harper's touch, her flesh, her kiss. They had so many wasted years to make up for.

His finger found her pussy. “Yes, again,” he commanded, swirling his finger in rhythm with his words. “And again, and again, and again . . .”

She groaned and squirmed away. “Until there's nothing left of me for you to discover, or so you said.”

He rolled to his other side, swung his leg to the ground, and grabbed his customized waterproof shower foot. Standing, he offered her his hand. “I do believe you're starting to catch on. Let's go. Your shower awaits.”

***

Brandon woke to his phone's ringtone punctuated by a vigorous pounding on his front door.

Harper's arm fell across his back. “I think we overslept.”

Lying on his stomach, he got his elbows under him and pushed his upper body off the bed to look at the clock. It was ten. “Shit.”