Devil and the Deep (The Ceruleans Book 4) - Julie Ann Walker Page 0,76
determined to do whatever she could, whatever it took, to make this something he’d never forget. To make herself stand head and shoulders above the crowd of women he’d had before her. To make him think twice about abandoning what they could have together if only—
Whoa there, sister, her conscience cautioned. If that’s what this is all about, then you better stop it right now.
Of course anything else her conscience said was drowned out by the low sound of approval that rumbled from the back of Bran’s throat. “Good,” he whispered, still stroking, still teasing. “I want you wet. I want you so wet you drench me when I put myself inside you.”
He didn’t give her time to answer that thoroughly wicked comment, instead catching her mouth in a kiss so drugging it left her dazed and confused, unable to concentrate on anything other than the terrible ache between her thighs and the friction he was providing that just…wasn’t…quite…enough.
She needed bare flesh on bare flesh. She needed fingers and tongues and lips and teeth and…his cock. Holy hell, she needed his cock. The hard column of flesh that pressed insistently against her, the steely rod of pleasure that promised so much more to come.
Put yourself inside me now! she wanted to scream. But all she managed was “Bran, I want…”
“What?” he said against her mouth, nibbling on her top lip. He sucked the sensitive pad between his teeth and laved it with his hot tongue as if demonstrating how he would suck and lick other parts of her. “What’d’ya want, Maddy? Tell me.”
“Should we go to the ranger’s station first?” she asked even though she dreaded the time it would take to walk there. Time when his hand wouldn’t be kneading her ass and working her over his throbbing hardness. Time when his skilled mouth wouldn’t be showing her the wonderful world of kissing without limits or reticence.
“No time for that,” he said.
Great minds…
“But, where—” That’s all she managed before he dropped her leg and pushed out of her arms. Her body ached with the loss. Her womanhood throbbed for friction that was no longer there. And she was so dizzy she had to thrust out a hand to steady herself against the metal skin of the lighthouse.
Bran leaned around the lighthouse and yelled, “Girls! Rick! Eyes on the entire perimeter for a while, okay? If you see anything, and I mean anything, yell at the top of your lungs! I gotta duck into the lighthouse for a bit and take care of something!”
Maddy didn’t hear Rick respond—I gotta take care of somethin’? Really? Does Bran think he’s foolin’ anyone with that?—but she should’ve known the girls wouldn’t stay quiet. Which was why she just shook her head and waved off Bran’s curious look when Donna hollered, “Yo, Miss Maddy! Way to go!”
Later, she might blush at the thought that Rick and the girls knew she was the “something” Bran had to take care of. But right now, she had to concentrate to keep up when Bran grabbed her hand and led her along the base of the lighthouse. She made it three steps, three wobbly steps before her traitorous knees gave out on her.
Weightlessness.
That’s what she experienced when Bran scooped her into his arms. She barely had time to marvel at his strength, at the easy way he carried her despite his injured leg and the fact that she was a far cry from a size two, before he bent to move the weapons from the spot atop the sleeping bag. Carefully propping them against the wall of the lighthouse, butts down, barrels up, he retrieved the sleeping bag, shook it out, and reached for the handle to the door. When he yanked it open, it made a deep groaning noise, its hinges rusty and tight from years battling the salty sea air.
This is it, she thought. This is the place.
The place where she’d finally know him. All of him. Know what made him gasp, what made him moan.
She squinted against the dimness to see the interior of the lighthouse was nothing more than a circular room with an uneven wood floor. It was empty of everything but a metal ladder that led up to a trapdoor in the ceiling, behind which she assumed was the light fixture and all the mechanical whatnot. A gentle whirring drifted down from above. It grew louder when Bran kicked the door closed and they were engulfed in warm, humid darkness.