Caught in the Act (The Davenports) (11 page)

“Brody?” She held her breath. Surely he hadn’t changed his mind.

He still had his pants on, but there was a bit of distance between their bodies now, and he’d stopped all movements. He hadn’t protested as she’d explored him, but his hands had not taken their own path over her.

“What?” His voice held a sharp edge.

“You okay? You . . . uhhh . . .
stopped
.”

“I haven’t stopped.” He brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “I’m simply watching
you
as you touch
me
. It’s hot as hell.”

“Oh,” she breathed out. Her lips were dry again. His gaze zeroed in on her mouth as her tongue darted out to her bottom lip. “So you don’t want to quit?”

He chuckled softly, and it felt like what they were doing took on a new degree of danger. “I might die if we quit.” His voice was so raw that a shiver wracked her body.

She left her hand on his abdomen but spread her fingers wide, pressing her palm flat to his skin. The feel of his pulse pumping so close to the surface had her closing her eyes. She felt suddenly shy. It had been a long time since she’d done this.

“I think I’d rather you touch me at the same time,” she whispered. She hated the note of insecurity in her voice.

She opened her eyes and caught a question in his. He was asking if this was what she wanted.

She nodded. She did. She was just nervous.

Then he took a half step forward and pressed against her once again. His legs were hard and solid against the softer skin of her inner thighs, but his jeans were butter soft. He placed a hand at her waist, gripping her securely, and dropped his other hand to the top of her thigh. His fingertips skated lightly over the surface. She shivered. And then he kissed her.

This kiss wasn’t quite like their first one. It still said that he knew what he was doing, and that included ridding her of her clothes. But it also said he was going to take his time doing it. He savored her. He took small tastes of her lips, the space between her eyes, her forehead. Then he nibbled the spot directly behind her ear.

An uneven sigh dragged from between her lips.

His mouth edged under her jawline and headed toward her chin, urging her head back as he went, so that she tilted her face up to the black sky. When he reached the spot just under her chin, he slipped an inch lower and held her there, her neck arched back, her eyes closed, feeling everything he was doing to her.

As he kept his mouth right at that spot, his heated breaths washing over her, his fingers suddenly touched her just below her belly button. She sucked in a sharp breath at the contact. He’d essentially blinded her by keeping her face tilted away from what he was doing. It heightened her sense of touch.

“Shhh,” he whispered against her, soothing her with his words as his fingers swished back and forth where they lingered against her stomach.

Then they dipped lower. This time sliding along the lace of her panties.

She whimpered. Her nipples reached for him. They ached. She wanted to lean into him. To force him to touch her breasts.

But she didn’t move for fear he would stop something else he was doing. She would have to trust him to do things right.

His mouth nipped very softly just off center of her throat and then his fingertips slid under the lace and slipped easily between her thighs. She gasped and arched her back. Her chest pushed forward, and if his other hand hadn’t still been holding her at the waist, she would have tumbled backward into the dark.

“Brody,” she begged.

“Shhh.” His fingers swept softly over her. “Just feel.”

“I am feeling, but it’s—” She stopped talking, panting instead when he rubbed back and forth over the most sensitive, swollen part of her. Oh God, she couldn’t remember anything ever feeling so good. Her whole body tensed as if readying to take flight.

“Brody,” she whispered again, this time more urgently. “I’m not going to be able to . . .” She sucked in a sharp breath at a movement below. “It’s been four years,” she moaned out.

His hand stilled. “Since . . . you’ve been with a man?” he guessed.

She tried to nod, but he still had her head pinned back. “My husband,” she murmured. “I have kids. I can’t . . . not easy to . . . date,” she finished.

He eased slightly away from her but left his hand where it was. She lifted her head until she was once again looking at him through the night.

“Not four years since you’ve had an orgasm. Surely?” He said it as a question.

A hoarse laugh came from the back of her throat. “No,” she assured him. “But it’s been a while for that, too. I’ve been busy.”

He watched her steadily, then his thumb swished over her once more and she shivered in his hands. “So what you’re telling me is that you’re going to come really fast?”

She nodded, embarrassed.

“Sweetheart.” He leaned in and put his mouth to her ear. His lips brushed over her as he spoke, and goose bumps lit down the side of her neck. “That’s nothing at all to worry about. In fact, it’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

When his words stopped, his fingers started.

She said nothing else, deciding to simply go with it. But she did tighten her arms around his neck and press into his chest. The feel of his hard muscles soothed her aching breasts, but only temporarily. He shifted back to her lips and kissed her, covering her mouth with his and smothering the moans she made each time his fingers made a faster, tighter circle.

Her hips were tense, and she felt as if she would jump out of her own skin at any minute.

Finally, with a pulsing press of his thumb right into her core, she slipped over the edge of control. She groaned and thrust against his hand. And then she shot off into her happy place. She rode the wave, shaking and begging, almost crying at the pure pleasure coursing through her.

It lasted for what seemed a very long time, yet ended way the hell too soon.

As the contractions dissolved, she went limp in his arms, thankful once again for the hand at her waist. She tilted forward and put her forehead to his bare chest. Then she smiled lazily at the vibrations of his soft laugh.

“Don’t make fun of me,” she groaned. “It’s been way too long since a man has touched me.”

“Sweetheart,” he whispered. His head was resting on hers, his cheek lying against the top of her hair, and his arms now wrapped around her back. “I would never make fun of something like that. I might try to make it happen again, but making fun of it, never.”

She nuzzled her cheek against his warm chest before lifting her face to his. “Thanks for coming over tonight. I appreciate the help getting rid of some of my adrenaline.”

He gripped her behind both knees to wrap her legs around his hips and scooped her up in his arms. “As long as you don’t think we’re finished.”

He turned for the house, reaching for the champagne and glasses at the last minute, and she laughed languidly at his words. She was too relaxed to do more than hang on.

“I seem to be your prisoner at the moment,” she said. “Do with me what you will.”

CHAPTER TEN

B
RODY LOOKED DOWN
at Cat as she clung to him, and wondered what she would think if he told her he wanted to lock her away in his house for the next two weeks, just to see if there was a chance he could get her out of his system.

He feared there wasn’t, but he would man up and give it his best shot.

Because if he was calculating right, they had just about two weeks. And that was all.

From what he’d overheard at the playhouse tonight, her children would be arriving in exactly thirteen days. Which meant he had no time at all to waste.

He stepped inside her back door, and before he could ask, she pointed to an open door on the far side of the room. He headed that way. Once he reached the room and could see the precisely made bed inside, he glanced down at her before stepping across the threshold. “You’re okay with this?”

He’d honestly meant to have a conversation when he’d first come over. Talk about the pros and cons of an affair. Make sure it was what both of them wanted. But then he’d seen her through the glass of the back door, her eyes a little too wide, her face still flushed from the excitement of the evening, and he’d known he couldn’t wait.

He wanted her. And he hadn’t wanted to waste another minute making it happen.

Thankfully, she seemed to be on the same page. But now that he had a small moment of sanity, it was the polite thing to do, he supposed, to make sure he wasn’t taking advantage.

She lifted her head slowly, as if it were too heavy for her body, and locked her blue eyes on his. “I’m wrapped around you like Christmas paper, Brody Hollister. Do you really think I don’t want to do this?”

He smiled, and the trickle of blood that remained in his brain headed south.

When they reached the bed, he set the champagne and glasses on a side table and deposited her in the middle of the mattress. At his nudge, she lay back. Then he feasted on the sight of her. Her blonde hair tousled around her face, her eyes glazed, and some of the pinkest underthings he’d ever seen.

His gaze roamed over her curves, anxious to start exploring with his hands. He made it down her legs, all the way to her toes. Then he headed back in the other direction.

By the time he got to her chest, it was heaving beneath the tiny scraps of pink.

“You might have been wrapped around me like Christmas paper,” he pointed out, innate understanding settling in that though this was as casual as any other encounter he’d had in the last ten years, it was worlds apart, “but
you’re
the present.”

He took a moment to uncork the champagne—going slow and a little clumsy because he could feel her watching him—then poured them each a glass before settling down on the edge of the bed. She shifted her position, lifting to one elbow.

“You did
amazing
tonight.” He clinked his glass to hers. Liquid splashed over the rim. “Congratulations.”

They each took a sip, her eyes locked on his, then her finger slipped inside the waistband of his jeans and she pronounced, “You need to take off your pants.”

Champagne burned up his nose as he spat out his laughter.

“Woman,” he said, shaking his head. “I never know what you’re going to say.” He put his champagne flute on the nightstand and stood, starting on his pants while she rolled to her side and watched. “One minute you seem so sweet, maybe a little shy. And
the next, I wouldn’t be surprised to find you with a whip in your hand, ordering me to do you bidding.”

Her eyes eagerly watched his movements as he pushed his jeans to the floor. When they returned to his face, they glinted with mischief. “Whips are an option?” she asked.

“No.” He laughed. He climbed into bed and slid a palm up her leg. “Whips are not an option.”

“Awww,” she murmured, pouting. “How sad.”

She was the sexiest damned thing he’d ever seen.

She rose to her knees then, and pushed
him
to the bed. He still wore his boxer briefs, but she had the look of someone about to shed him of that particular piece of cotton. She straddled him, and his dick surged, trying to reach up for her, but she stayed on her knees.

She took another sip of champagne, eyeing him steadily as she did, before tilting her glass over his chest. The liquid dribbled over his skin, and he sucked in a breath at the coldness, quickly letting it burst free as her mouth followed the champagne down.

Her lips were hot as they moved over him. She licked at the liquid, she licked at him, she left nothing unexplored. He reached for her hips and pulled her down, wanting to feel her against him. Dying to get inside her.

The instant they connected—with two layers of underwear still between them—her ass bounced back up in the air and she shot him a dirty look.

“Don’t try to hurry things along here.”

He growled. “Just because you’ve had yours . . .”

“Hey,” she began, “that was your doing. Now shut up and relax. This isn’t going to hurt at all.”

And it didn’t. Though this time her teeth did come into play. She nipped and sucked and generally drove him stupid. And then she inched down his body until she was sitting astride his knees. He caught the gleam in her eyes as she stared at the flagpole in his underwear.

“You do know what’s in there, right?” he teased. He loved teasing her.

“Mess with me, Hollister,” she warned, though the heat in her voice was not a real threat, “and I’ll leave it in there.”

He reached for her. “Come here. You’ve had your fun. It’s my turn.”

She shook her head and pulled back out of his reach. “I’m not finished.” Then she gripped his underwear and tugged, and he was free.

Brody watched as she looked at him. Her eyes glittered and her lips parted. His mouth went dry. Slowly, her small hand closed around him and Cat stroked him so gently he damn near screamed at the frustration. He forced his hips to remain still, letting her take her time, but it required every last ounce of control not to pump against the feel of her.

Several agonizing seconds later, he gave up. He was no superhero.

“That’s enough,” he gritted out.
He flipped her so he was the one on top, and then he stared down at all of her gorgeousness. He needed to be inside her. They could play games later.

Within seconds, he had his briefs on the floor and was reaching for her bra.

“Wait.” Her hands clasped around his wrists.

He stilled. His breathing was ragged. “What’s wrong?”

Embarrassment colored her features, reminding him of when she’d told him outside that she hadn’t been with anyone since her husband. “I just thought about . . .” She paused and gave him a pained grimace. “I don’t look like I did the last time you saw me.”

He drew back at her words. She was worried about her looks? “Stretch marks?” He’d already noticed a few on her stomach. They hadn’t seemed to bother her.

“And not as . . . buoyant,” she added.

The way she said it make him grin like a fool. “Good thing we’re not in the water, then.”

“Brody, I’m serious. I’ve had children. I’m not a teenager anymore.”

“Damn straight you’re not.”

“But—”

“No buts.” He leaned forward and touched his mouth to hers, and then he whispered, “You’re beautiful, Kitty Cat.” He winked when she made a face at his use of the old nickname. “Inside and out.” He kissed her again, lingering this time, and slid his hand down to cup around her rear. “But definitely
out
,” he finished with a quick squeeze.

His words made her snicker. Which had been his intent.

“I’m just saying—”

He raised his brows and she cut off her words.

She stared at him for a few seconds before rolling her eyes and huffing out a breath. “Fine,” she muttered. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She reached behind her and unfastened her bra, but an evil gleam showed up in her eyes before she removed it. Slowly, she brought her hands back around to her front. Her bra was undone but stayed firmly in place.

“You’re teasing me now?” he asked.

“I might be.”

He nodded, liking where this was going. “As long as you understand that I’m going to make you pay for that.”

She stared up at him, her blue eyes the color of marbles, daring him to strip her of her remaining clothes. Daring him to make her pay for her misbehavior. But damned if he didn’t catch one more glimpse of nerves.

It really worried her what he’d think of her body. Which did something to him. She’d been his first. She’d been innocent and untouched. And he was about to have her again.

That was special.

She
was special.

And hell if that rationale didn’t terrify him. Because she was only a summer fling.

Pushing the thought from his mind, he shut up his brain and reached for her bra.

Cat held her breath as Brody bared her to him and took his time looking his fill. Her nervousness had caught her off guard. She’d been focused so much on being away from her life, on being more than just a mother. More than a Davenport. But she hadn’t thought about the fact that Brody had been the first boy to see her naked. He’d seen her unblemished. Unflawed. And he’d seen her almost twenty years younger!

But from the look on his face now, her worries were for naught.

His jaw tensed as his hand cupped her right breast. Her nipple puckered at his touch.

And Cat wished for all she was worth that she hadn’t voiced her concern. It had slowed things down too much. Made the moment softer. She didn’t want slow. Not tonight. Nor did she want soft.

She wanted all-out, balls-to-the-wall sex.

The green in Brody’s eyes deepened then, and she held her breath, certain he was about to say something profound. She prepared herself to appear moved at whatever proclamation he came out with, when really, all she wanted was his mouth back on her body.

His fingers tightened on her breast, the light squeeze seeming to reach through her body and show up between her legs. Then he gave a careful nod and opened his mouth. “You’re right,” he said solemnly. “The buoyancy is gone.”

Laughter burst from her, joining with his, and the soft, slow moment disappeared.

He brought his other hand to her body, and suddenly he was everywhere. His hands stroked. Caressed. They gripped and squeezed. They found every hidden spot on her body, while at the same time his mouth sought out the same locations. And his tongue . . .

Oh, God. She sucked in a harsh breath as his tongue met places no tongue had met in way too long a time.

His
tongue
was her salvation.

Somewhere in the mix, her panties disappeared and he had her right on the edge again. She was ready for another release.

And just like that, he pulled away. She convulsed at the loss, her breath sticking in her throat as he braced himself over her, not touching her, but staring down in fascination. There was a bead of sweat clinging to his forehead, just at the hairline, and she wanted to reach up and swipe it with her finger. She was too weak to lift her arm.

He continued watching her for a few more seconds, then did a quick push up and came down. The only thing that landed anywhere was his mouth. On her breast.

She surged up as heat exploded, but too soon he lifted away. She made a gargling noise in the back of her throat.

He did it again.

Once more. Only, that time catching her other breast, and she couldn’t help it, she whimpered. “Enough, Brody.” He was destroying her. Her arms lay limp at her sides. “Enough,” she whispered.

Humor flashed through his eyes. “But I have to make you pay.”

“I’ve paid,” she begged. “I swear, I’ve paid. I’m about to die here.”

He laughed at her words, giving her a quick kiss. “You are so fantastic.”

Then he rolled to the side of the bed and grabbed his jeans from the floor. He put a condom on and was back on top of her in an instant, easing himself between her legs.

It was a little odd, being spread by someone other than her late husband.

But not odd in a bad way. She was ready for this.

She lifted her hips, seeking Brody out. He gave a small nod and then he inched inside her. She held her breath. He was large. She’d seen that earlier when she’d gripped him in her hands.