Under the Covers (24 page)

"No." It was a weak protest, and Drew renewed his assault on her senses, grinding against her until she cried out, this time with need.

"You don't mean that, darlin'." He sat up and with one hard tug pulled her fatigues to her knees, and off. Her camo-covered ass winked at him in the golden glow of the setting sun. He framed the perfect globes in his hands. "Say it, darlin'. Say you love me."

Bree bit the inside of her cheek. She wouldn't say it. She
wouldn't
. Then his lips came down on her ass, and her heart broke open. She loved Drew. Had since almost the first moment she laid eyes on him. Certainly from the first time he made love to her, so tender and gentle it damned near broke her in two when she found out he loved Celeste.

Now that she'd heard the whole sordid story, it wasn't near as bad as she'd built it up in her mind. She should have known there was more to the story. She should have trusted him. God, his fingers found the wet spot on her panties and pressed, making any denial mute. She loved him, but telling the arrogant bastard would be giving in.

"Fuck me, Drew." She wiggled her ass in his face and was rewarded by a feral growl that made her pussy wetter. "Take me. It's all you're going to get."

This wasn't the gentle lover she knew from the first night, or any other variation she'd known since then. Maybe she'd pushed him too hard, but this was the way she needed him tonight—hard, merciless, raw. Just the way she felt inside. She heard the rasp of a zipper, and one arm slid beneath her and jerked her up and against his hard chest.

Heat seared her back through the thin cotton of her T-shirt. His hands found her breasts underneath her top and roughly pushed her bra up to expose them. She flinched as he rolled and pinched her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. "Is this the way you want it, darlin'?" She wept her need out on a sob, and one big hand found her heated core and drove into her. "You want me."

Yes, goddammit, yes. She wanted him.

"Fuck me, now, Drew."

In seconds, he bent her over one strong arm, stripped her panties down her thighs, and entered her in one stroke that had her fisting her hands in the fabric of his fatigues, seeking solid purchase in a world spiraling out of control.

"Is this the way you want it?" He pulled out and drove back in. One hand clenched in her shirt, pulling the fabric tight against her breasts while the other clutched her hip in his iron grip. Over and over he pummeled her, all the time asking, pleading. "Is this what you want?" Out, and back in. "Tell me. Tell me, Bree."

Desperate, she twisted in his grasp and he let her go. Hampered by her clothes, she kicked free of her panties, then threw herself at his chest. He caught her as if she weighed no more than a gnat. His hands sank to her ass and guided her over his length. Her hands found skin, and worked their way up, taking his shirt with them. He let go her ass with one hand, long enough for her to pull his shirt free and over his head so it hung from one shoulder.

"I hate you, Drew Whitcomb."

He flexed his hips and drove into her harder than before. She sank her teeth into his shoulder.

"Goddammit all to hell," he roared and rocked into her again.

"I hate you," she whimpered as he continued to stroke her higher and higher.

"Tell me, darlin'." He stilled, held her tight against him as she poured out all her hate, and her anger and frustration.

"I hate you," she insisted.

"No, you don't." His hands were gentle now, holding her as if she were made of the finest porcelain.

This was the Drew she’d seen that first night, the one she'd been looking for ever since. 

He supported her ass with one hand, while the other swept tears from her cheeks. "You don't hate me, darlin'."

Bree dropped her head to his shoulder and gave herself over to his lovemaking. Every sure stroke brought her closer to the peak where there were only truths.

"Let go, darlin'. I'll be there to catch you."

As her body flew apart in his arms, she knew what it was to be loved. Drew held her close, murmured sweet love in her ear, and when the last tremor shuddered through her, he let himself go.

As he poured his love into her, Bree bit his ear lobe and whispered the words he wanted to hear. "I love you, Drew Whitcomb."