His to Keep (Beauty and the Brit) (30 page)

“Not this time.” She smiled as his eyes grew wide. Frustration caused his lips to flatten. “I’m not done.”

“You are if I say you are,” he ground out.

“Nope.” She reached around and grabbed his taut ass, squeezing as he tightened his cheeks.

Using one finger, she followed the back seam of his slacks, over his ass, moving downward. Then she massaged her way up to his waistband, and guided her palms along his belt until she reached the buckle, but she left it alone. Instead, she used butterfly touches to caress his abs.

“Why are you provoking me? You know I’m going to have to punish you.” At her rebellion, Iain’s arms shook as he strained against the door. What would it take to make him lose control again?

Brynn rose to her toes and, angling her head,
swiped her tongue across his throat, tasting his salty skin. Then she sucked him there, gently, careful not to leave a bruise.

That was the final straw. Brynn found her mouth wrenched away from his neck. Iain’s hands gripped her shoulders. “I’m close to the edge today, Brynn. Now take off your dress.”

She shook her head. His domination was her trigger. That’s how she got off. Today wasn’t about that. She wanted
him
to let go. So far he was holding on to that rigid self-control, but today,
this
day, Brynn wanted to see it snap. She wanted Iain wild and reckless, as he’d been last night. She liked that untamed side of him. He always sent her crashing—with his words and his hands and his mouth. She wanted to do that for him.

“I want you, Iain. So much.” Her palm rubbed against his cock.

Without warning, he grabbed her hand and his lips slammed over hers. His tongue invaded her mouth. All the skill he’d shown in the past was absent. His teeth bumped against hers. His hands cupped her breasts and roughly kneaded them.

Brynn’s nipples hardened as her bra’s scratchy lace abraded her breasts. She tried to kiss him back, but Iain was too aggressive. And she loved it. She loved every forceful bit of it. This was how he made her feel—aching with desire—every single time.

When Iain ground his hips against her lower belly, Brynn groaned into his mouth. She reveled in Iain’s brutish treatment. Each harsh thrust of his tongue made her clit throb. She matched his fierceness with her own and nipped his lip.

He pulled back then, panting. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Fuck me right now, Iain. Here against the door.” She wanted him to take her, claim her—and lose himself in the process.

He was on her again in a flash. As he continued to kiss her, he unzipped his pants and removed his cock. Pulling away, he whipped out a condom. He rolled it on in seconds, then his lips covered hers once more. He shoved the dress up over Brynn’s hips. Grasping her ass, he lifted her, never breaking contact with her mouth.

Iain reached between her legs and tugged at her panties. She heard a brief tear, then a longer one as he tore them off and threw them to the ground. Then he was inside of her, filling her up, stretching her.

There was nothing easy or civilized about him right then. Even when he tied her up or pinned her arms to her sides, Iain was always very aware of what he was doing. She was the one who broke, never Iain. But right now, his need overrode everything else, and Brynn was right there with him.

As he pounded into her, her body absorbed each hard thrust and wanted more. Digging her nails into his shoulders, she buried her face in the crook of his neck. His skin was slick with sweat and he smelled so damned good, she just held on and breathed him in.

In minutes, Iain tightened his hold on her hips and came. As he shuddered, he bit down on her shoulder. It stung, but it felt good, too.

The muscles in his back bulged as he drove into her one final time. His body stilled and Brynn continued to cling to him, soothing her hands across his back and nape. She didn’t come, but she wasn’t sorry. She’d sent her new husband right over the edge. It was amazing, this primitive side of him.

Then it was over. She felt the emotional distance immediately. When Iain pulled out of her, the muscle in his jaw ticked. He set her down and walked away. Turning his back on her, he removed the condom, his shoulders tense, his movements jerky.

Brynn tugged at her dress and stepped in front of him, waiting for him to say something—how amazing it had been or how much he loved her. But he wouldn’t even look her in the eye.

“What’s wrong?” She tried to stroke his cheek, but he flinched and pulled away.

He zipped his fly and bent to retrieve his discarded clothes. When he got to her panties, he paused, then snatched them up. He raised his head but still wouldn’t look at her. “Sorry about that, Brynn. It won’t happen again, love.”

A frisson of alarm slid up her spine. Why was he acting so weird? Something was wrong. “What are you talking about? I wanted that.”

His startled gaze fluttered to her eyes. “Not possible. I know you like it rough, but that was… I took you like a bloody animal,” he bit out.

She closed the distance between them and, standing on her toes, took his face between her hands. “You really hate being out of control, huh? I pushed you there, Iain. On purpose. I wanted you like that, and I’ll want it again. Not every time, but you know, anniversaries, birthdays, maybe Christmas.”

He pursed his lips together and wrenched his face from her hold. “I was brutal. I treated you like—”

“Like a whore?”

“Yes,” he spit out. “Like a bloody whore. I just whipped my cock out and had at you.”

Brynn wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tight. “Whatever we do together, it’s okay. I didn’t tell you to stop, and I could have. I wanted that, Iain. I don’t know how to make it any plainer.”

His arms remained stiff at his sides, but Brynn hugged him a little harder. After a long moment, he dropped the clothes and embraced her.

“I never want to hurt you, Brynn.”

“You didn’t,” she whispered. “You couldn’t. You love me.”

“Yes, I do. More than anything.” He kissed the top of her head, then rested his cheek on her crown. “This wasn’t the way I planned our post-wedding sex.”

She reared back and looked up at him. His eyes were still troubled, but the regret and shame that had blanketed his features were gone. His earlier expression ripped at her heart. He really thought they’d done something wrong. What a role reversal.

She gave him a little smile. “You thought about our first boink as man and wife? You’re such a sweetie.”

“You just used the words
boink
and
sweetie
in the same sentence. Think about that. And go have a gander in the bedroom while you’re at it.” His eyes cleared and any lingering tension between them dissolved.

Now she was fascinated to find out what he’d been plotting. Stepping out of his arms, she walked to the bedroom and stopped at the door. Brynn’s hand flew to her mouth.

The room was filled with flowers. Vases and vases of flowers in every color imaginable. They sat on the bedside tables, the dresser, and petals littered the floor like confetti. Their fragrance reminded her of Allie and Trevor’s garden. An ice bucket filled with champagne stood to one side of the bed. And there was a jeweler’s box sitting in the middle of the gray duvet.

Iain stepped behind her and placed his hands on her hips. “
This
is what I had planned.”

She turned in his arms. Guilt now engulfed her. “I ruined it for you, didn’t I?”

He shook his head. “I ruined it for you.”

“Iain, you didn’t. It gets me
crazy
when you go all caveman like that.”

A shadow of doubt clouded his eyes before he masked it. His gaze scanned her face. “Were you really all right with my…behavior?”

Brynn nodded. “I seriously loved it.”

He breathed out a light sigh. “Go on, then.” He tipped his head toward the bed. “Open it.”

“When did you have the time to do all this, anyway?”

“It’s amazing what you can accomplish with enough money.”

She walked to the bed, picked up the box, and opened it. Inside was a drop necklace with one large diamond encased in an art deco setting. It was obviously old.

Brynn glanced up at Iain. “This is beautiful.” She removed it from the box and held it out to him.

“It’s vintage,” he said. “Which, you know, is another term for
used
.”

“Stop. I love it.” She gave him her back so that he could fasten it.

Iain draped the cool metal around her throat. After he attached the clasp, he kissed her nape. “Let me see.”

She spun around. “Well?”

“Lovely.” Using one finger, he followed the chain down to the middle of Brynn’s chest. “Now I want to fuck you properly.”

“Shall I close my eyes and think of England?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Oh, you’re a real comedian, you are.” Then he tugged the dress off her shoulders. Brynn wiggled out of it, revealing her body. She wore only a strapless bra, since Iain had ripped off her panties.

Brynn bent her arms behind her and unhooked it. Just two weeks ago, she could barely talk to him. Now they were married and she was comfortable being naked in front of him. She felt so sexy and brave with Iain—free, as if she’d broken out of a cage of her own making. She liked being sassy and playful.

She stood in just her sandals and threw back her shoulders “How does it look now?”

Iain grasped her chin. “I don’t deserve you.” Then he kissed her roughly. Brynn’s toes curled in her sandals and she kicked them off. “Now lay on the bed. Arch your back again. Thrust your tits out.”

She hopped onto the bed, bouncing once, and fell back. With her back arched, her breasts on display, she posed for her wonderful, arrogant husband.

“You’ve suddenly become very brazen. I rather like this Brynn.” He grinned and unhooked his belt. His pants and boxers went flying before he sprawled out next to her.

“I think it’s the ring.” She wiggled her finger at him.

Iain leaned over her. Slowly, almost reverently, he covered her face in kisses, starting with her forehead, then her cheeks, her nose, her chin. She was already breathless, and he hadn’t even gotten to the good parts yet.

When he removed the freesia from her hair, he bent his head over the bloom and inhaled deeply. “I’m glad you wore this for me.”

Iain had so many facets to his personality—high-handed, thoughtful, and passionate. He was protective toward Marc and Amelia, and he still took care of Davy’s parents. Just when Brynn thought she had a handle on him, he flipped the script. One thing she was certain of—he loved her. She felt it all the way to her soul.

Iain trailed the waxy bloom down the length of her cheek and over her lips. The sweet smell surrounded her, along with the scent of the other flowers in the room. He’d done all this for her. But he didn’t need to do any of it. “You make me happy. You know that, right? Just you.”

“I’m glad.” There was something unfathomable behind his brown eyes. He seemed…unsettled.

Iain lowered his gaze and continued trailing the flower over her chest and then circled the freesia around her breast. He barely touched her with it, but her nipple budded tightly and was more sensitive with each pass. He lightly dragged it across her areola. There was something erotic about watching Iain clutch the delicate flower in his large hand, caressing her, arousing her.

“Iain. Please.” She reached out to grab his shoulder.

“Not yet.” He tossed the flower aside and used his hands, covering her small breasts and tugging her nipples between his fingers. He wasn’t gentle, but he wasn’t out of control either. The pain grew sharper, more exquisite as he pinched a little harder.

Rubbing her hands along his forearms, she wanted him again. Inside of her. Now.

Iain let go of her breasts and skimmed his fingertips along her stomach. Hands spanning her waist, he brushed his thumbs over her hip bones and moved inward. He rained scorching kisses and used tiny flicks of his tongue across her torso, along her belly, all the way to her thighs.

“Put your feet on my shoulders, Brynnie.”

Looking down at him, Brynn smiled. “How did I get so lucky?” she asked, repeating his earlier words back to him.

Iain didn’t smile back. His expression grew dark and somber. Then he lowered his head and licked across her inner folds. Quickly, with featherlight strokes, his tongue danced over Brynn’s slit. When he thrust his fingers inside of her, it was almost her undoing. Pressure coiled deep in her stomach and spread outward. She was so close.

Brynn’s hands flew to her breasts, circling her nipples as Iain continued to sweep over that swollen bundle of nerves, using just enough pressure to make her lose her mind.

As her orgasm cut through her, Brynn closed her eyes, letting the sensations roll over her. Her muscles tightened and her pussy contracted as she came. She fisted Iain’s hair, holding him in place.

He didn’t stop. While he continued to use the tip of his tongue, Iain wiggled another finger inside of her, until a second jolt of pleasure scored through her. Brynn bowed her back. As she clutched at the duvet, she grasped handfuls of velvety flower petals. The smell of them flooded her senses. Iain’s tongue and fingers continued to move on her, in her. She convulsed one last time before her body stopped twitching.

When she finally came down, Iain’s hands stopped moving, and he removed his mouth from her tender clit. Brynn’s eyelids fluttered open.

“How was that, Mrs. Chapman?”

She grinned down at him. “Can’t. Talk.” She let her head flop back on the bed.

“You don’t have to talk.” He removed his fingers and crawled to his knees, pulling her legs with him. He reached for another condom, then draped her calves over his shoulders before slowly, carefully gliding inside of her.

* * *

Brynn lay sprawled across the bed, while Iain lay next to her, sleeping. Brynn needed hydration. Quietly, she climbed off the bed and walked into the dressing room. She donned one of Iain’s many dress shirts—one with red stripes and a white collar. As she slipped the buttons through the holes, she tiptoed back through the bedroom and paused to watch him.

Iain’s face was softer than she’d ever seen it. The lines across his forehead were barely visible. He’d captured her heart, taught her about sex, and gave her the courage to be bold. Brynn adored him so much, it almost scared her a little bit, this depth of feeling.

Reluctantly, she stepped away from the bed and walked through the apartment. In the entryway, she picked up her purse, where she’d dropped it by the front door. From inside, she retrieved Iain’s dice and turned them over in her hand. The white pips had worn off and the edges were blunted. He’d kept hold of them all these years, to remind him of the friend he’d lost. Brynn was beginning to understand Iain’s level of loyalty. He was steadfast, her husband.

Brynn laid the dice on the entry table and picked up the pile of clothes strewn there, including the tattered remains of her panties. She remembered the look on Iain’s face after they’d had raw, hot sex.
Shame
. Brynn never wanted him to be ashamed for relinquishing control, not with her. There was a story there, but he may never reveal it. There were parts of Iain he still kept hidden. While she didn’t like it, she understood.

Brynn walked through the living room. The afternoon sunlight bounced off the windows across the street and caused her to shield her eyes as she made her way to the kitchen. This apartment wasn’t any more inviting in the daytime. It dawned on Brynn that Iain might not want to live in her house. Her midcentury, Vegas dream home. And she didn’t want to live here. It left her cold just thinking about it. There were a lot of details they hadn’t thought through. What about kids? Brynn wanted at least a couple. Did Iain even like kids? One of many things she didn’t really know about him.

Brynn grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and glanced down at the ring he’d placed on her finger that morning. Iain made her happy. Period. What could be more important than that? They’d figure out the rest in time.

* * *

Iain awoke to find Brynn sitting next to him. With her knees pulled up to her chin and wearing his shirt that was far too large for her, she looked pretty and vulnerable. But then she smiled and held up a bottle of water. “Thought you might need this.”

Sitting up, he took it, and as he drank, he studied her. He was still upset over what had happened earlier. Losing control like that—it was totally out of character for him. Brynn claimed she liked it. Iain didn’t. Hated it, in fact. He’d promised himself last night that it wouldn’t happen again, yet he’d taken his bride without the slightest thought for her pleasure. He’d been an animal.

Brynn reached out, caressed his face with the back of her hand. “We should talk about it.”

“No.”

“Yes. Iain, I love you. I love all of you. If you’d been hurting me, I’d have asked you to stop. And you would have.”

He gazed into her eyes. They were full of compassion. “I’d rather cut off me own right arm than harm you. God’s truth.”

“I know.” Her fingers drifted to his hair, and he leaned into her touch.

How could Iain make her understand? He hadn’t talked much about his parents. There wasn’t a hell of a lot to say—none of it pleasant. He couldn’t give her part of it without telling her everything. Iain hated rehashing the past. Brynn thought the past defined them. He’d always claimed otherwise, but maybe she was right.

“My dad was a skive,” he said. Brynn stopped toying with his hair and grabbed his hand. “Never worked a goddamned day in his life. The council flats looked like a prison—gray concrete and shabby as hell. My mother was haggard, looking at least ten years older than she really was. We had ugly, third-hand furniture covered in cigarette burns. Barely enough food to scrape by. The old man spent all of his time and money at the pub.

“Every night, without fail, he’d come home drunk and one of three things would happen: he’d pass out—which is what my mother prayed for—or he’d slap her around over something stupid.” Iain closed his eyes as the memories flooded back. That horrible flat that reeked of fear and smoke. God, how he’d hated that place. Brynn talked about her little rundown house, her mother’s illness, and while it gutted him to hear her story, at least she’d had a family.

“What was the third thing?” Brynn asked, lacing her fingers with his and squeezing tight.

Iain said nothing. He didn’t want to utter the words out loud. Shame coated him, made him feel dirty.

“What did he do, Iain?”

“He’d drag me mum off to the bedroom and have at her. I could hear him, grunting like a fucking pig. Afterward, he’d start snoring and she’d come into the lounge and turn on the telly like nothing had happened.”

Brynn lowered her knees, let go of his hand, and crawled into his lap. “You’re nothing like that. What we did today, it was mutual, Iain.
I
provoked
you
, remember?” She placed her hand on his cheek. “I wanted you. It excites me when you let yourself go. But that doesn’t mean you’re like your father.”

He clenched his jaw and remained quiet.

“You’re a decent, honest person.”

That wasn’t true at all. If she knew just how dishonest he was, Brynn never would have married him. He couldn’t bear this. She was singing his praises, thinking he was an honorable man when the opposite was true. He captured her hand and pulled it from his face. “No, I’m not, love. Never confuse me with someone decent. But I promise you one thing, Brynn Chapman—I’ll always be good to you.”

She kissed his chin. “You are good. And one day, you’re going to realize it.” She leaned her head against his shoulder and they sat in silence for a long time. Finally Brynn glanced up at him. “I’m going to have to tell my sisters about us.”

“We don’t have to tell them anything.” He smoothed a hand along her thigh, until his fingers dove under the hem of the shirt. Latching on to her bare hip, he stroked her silky skin. “Plan a family wedding, and we’ll do it all over again. The first wedding will be our secret. Let Allie and Monica fight over the details. We’ll know the truth.”

“I couldn’t lie to them like that.”

Iain’s hand stilled. “Not sharing all the details isn’t the same as lying, is it?”

“Yes it is. I’d be letting them think it was our first time. Lies of omission are still lies.”

Fuck. Iain had never planned on telling Brynn the truth. Even if he had been tempted, after hearing her pronouncement, he’d have changed his mind. And it would always be between them, this secret. He hated carrying it around, along with the guilt. But he had no choice.