Straight to her ass. Sweet Jesus, did that woman have a mouthwatering ass. Curvy and just wide enough for a man to grab a handful as he f**ked her. She wore turquoise bikini panties with bright red lace around the leg holes and the waistband. The sweetest slice of her butt cheeks hung out of each side, where her thigh connected with her bottom.
Bran was instantly awake. And instantly hard. Again.
Oh, this is bad. Very, very bad.
He clenched his hands into fists, fighting the temptation to trace the curve of her legs from her ankles up and over that amazing ass, dipping into those sexy little indents at the base of her spine, then up the feminine arc of her back, stopping only to unhook the red bra. He’d brush the hair from her nape, letting his hot breath tease her before he kissed her there first, imagining the sweet and salty taste of her skin.
Harper stirred, making a sexy, low-pitched moan. She turned her head. Lifted her shoulder.
Oh, no. Oh, hell, no. Please do not turn over.
She rolled over.
Keep looking at her head, man. Do not let your eyes wander.
His eyes wandered.
Straight to the crotch of her panties. His mouth watered, hungrily taking in the rise of her mound, the cleft subtly pointing the way to her core. He forced his gaze up, sweeping over her flat abdomen and the cute notch of her belly button, stopping when he reached those luscious tits.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Her ni**les practically spilled out of the deeply cut bra cups. The edges of the bra dug into the pale upper swells, leaving red marks on each side. That had to be uncomfortable.
Maybe you oughta take her bra off to alleviate the pressure.
No way.
Maybe you oughta kiss it and make it better.
Jesus. What was wrong with him? He was standing there drooling and fantasizing over her like a twelve-year-old virgin faced with his first half-naked woman.
But even Bran had to admit, this half-naked woman was riding the top of the leader board with one of the best bodies he’d ever seen.
Harper made that sexy-sounding sigh again and his dick jumped against his zipper.
Enough.
Bran grabbed the extra blanket off the dresser and threw it over her, resisting the temptation to tuck it around her. Any contact with her body would destroy his good intentions.
He retreated to the bathroom and locked the door. After shedding his dirty clothes, he stepped into the shower. The initial blast of cold water didn’t affect his hard-on at all. His dick slapped against his belly when he leaned over to grab the soap.
Goddammit. He’d get no rest until he got some relief.
Hello, Jack Off, his old friend. A friend he’d known intimately the last six months.
He rested his left forearm level with his forehead on the longest side of the enclosed shower. The water spray hit his groin. Bran grabbed his c**k firmly by the root and started to stroke.
Harper’s face appeared. Then it was her hand working him, not his. She knew exactly how he liked to be touched—slow, slow, and then wham! Fast and faster.
But in this wet dream, her fingers played with his balls as she kept the steady rhythm on his shaft. She wasn’t watching her hand; she was watching his face. Raptly. When he groaned and sucked in a swift breath, she swept the pad of her thumb across the sweet spot beneath the c**k head. Her breath whispered across his skin, drawing the flesh into goose bumps as she brought him closer to the edge. Heart racing, hips pumping, the slapping sound of skin on skin increasing inside the steamy shower.
She was attuned to his body’s every response. When she felt his balls draw up, she eased her finger back behind that sensitive section of skin and rimmed his anus.
Bran started to come. In his mind, he’d pushed Harper to her knees. He replaced her hand with his own and aimed his c**k at her chest. He came with a roar. Spurts jetted out the end of his spasming dick and hit the white shower wall. The image blurred again and he saw his seed landing on Harper’s pale chest. Each spot of come slipped down the slope of her tits. One heavy dot clung on the end of her nipple like a milky teardrop.
Keeping her gaze locked on his, Harper caught the drop on her fingertip. She stuck that fingertip into her mouth and sucked.
Hot as f**king hell.
Bran let go of his dick and it bounced against his belly. He opened his eyes from his mental skin flick. Getting off had taken the edge off, but it left him craving the real deal.
Harper. Naked. Nine ways ’til Sunday.
He cleaned up the shower. After he’d toweled off he realized he hadn’t brought fresh clothes with him. No f**king way was he sleeping in a towel all goddamn night when he’d already given up his bed. He made as little noise as possible as he slipped into his bedroom.
Harper had kicked the covers off.
Not only was she gorgeous, but she was so damn ... cute. She’d charmed him this morning with the delicate way she’d eaten her doughnut—a proper lady having high tea. She’d surprised him when she’d slipped on his old cowshit- and grease-stained Carhartt coveralls, looking far removed from the gorgeously put-together beauty queen he’d seen her as at the salon earlier.
But the capper for him in this losing battle to keep things platonic? When she’d reached up and casually brushed the sugar from his lips as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It’d taken every ounce of his control not to suck those questing fingers into his mouth. As she’d traced the arc of his lips, she looked like she wanted to do so much more than just touch him, but she had no idea what to do first.
That was when Bran first suspected that Harper Masterson wasn’t as skilled in bedroom arts as he imagined. Oh, she wasn’t totally innocent. A beautiful woman like her wouldn’t be untouched. But hers was a different level of innocence, and that scared him because he wanted to be the man to show her the pure pleasure of giving herself over to a demanding lover. How intense, sweet, and fulfilling it’d be to lose that sheen of innocence with a lover who would unleash all sides of her sexuality and expect her to embrace them without apology.