Marry Me...Again. Cheryl St.John
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Chapter Two
She buried her face in his neck and inhaled the intoxicating scent of his skin, then instinctively tasted him. “If we cross the street and run through those backyards, we’ll come out right at the back of my apartment building,” she said softly, brazenly, her heart leaping at her daring as well as the thought.
He leaned back enough to see her face in the dim glow of the distant street lamps. He stood with her pressed against the entire length of his body and her blood thrummed in her veins. “Are you sure?” he asked.
“It’s my birthday,” she replied, as if that explained her decision to throw caution to the wind with a stranger, and then she felt silly for mentioning it.
“You didn’t say anything.” He sounded more surprised at the fact that it was her birthday than because she wanted to take him home to her bed. He probably got a lot of offers.
She shrugged and wondered if perhaps he wasn’t all that interested. Maybe hard-up doctors weren’t that much of an oddity. Disappointment flashed through her veins.
He stroked her bare arms. “Give me five minutes to run back across Main Street to the gas station, okay?”
Her relief was so potent, it should have been embarrassing.
He released her shoulders and stepped away. “If you’re not here when I get back, I’ll know I dreamed you.”
“I’ll be here.” Unless the world ended or she woke up. God, she hoped she wasn’t dreaming.
He grabbed his Stetson and dashed out into the rain, his boots squishing on the sodden grass.
She had a watch. It only took him four minutes, and he was back, barely breathing hard, his hat dripping, his shirt plastered to his broad chest. “You’re here,” he said.
“Waiting,” she replied with a nod.
Slowly he removed his hat and settled it on her head. Then picking up her backpack, he took her hand, and together they ran across the street. They cut a path between the homes, across backyards and toward her apartment complex. Her knees were still weak with passion and excitement, and she struggled to keep up with his longer, more confident strides.
Beneath the overhang that protected a small back stoop, Brynna unlocked the entry, then led him up a flight of orange-carpeted stairs to her door. Her fingers trembled so hard she dropped the keys. With a gentle hand on her shoulder, Dev pressed her against the wall, eased his rock-solid body against hers and kissed her, knocking his hat from her head to the floor. She wrapped one arm around his neck and met the invasive mind-reeling quest of his tongue. Her imagination couldn’t have come up with anything better than Dev’s kisses.
Again, she forgot where she was until he loosened his hold and separated them to quickly scoop up her keys and his hat and unlock the door. Brynna groped for the light switch that turned on a lamp at the end of her sofa.
Dev let her bag fall and glanced around. He met her gaze.
Lips tingling, body thrumming, she smiled hesitantly and kicked off her shoes.
“Maybe we should get out of these wet clothes,” he suggested standing his hat on its crown on the floor.
She locked the door behind her and walked toward the hall. “I’ll grab towels while you get those boots off.”
She stepped behind the half-closed bathroom door and unbuttoned her shirt, dropping it and her bra into the tub. Her socks and jeans came next. Slipping into her terry robe, she carried a towel back to Dev.
He had removed his wet shirt and draped it over the back of a chair. Her mouth went dry at the sight of all that smooth golden skin, his loosened belt and gaping jeans. He was tanned and firm, with enticing shadows in the muscled contours of his arms and chest, and she imagined touching her tongue to those places….
Trying to stay rational, Brynna reached up with the towel to dry his hair. He allowed the act for only a moment, before pulling her close and kissing her. She touched his chest and shoulders with seeking fingers, as if she were blind and could read every inch of him. Her exploration took in his throat, then his cheeks, where the textures contrasted.
He pulled away and scraped his jaw with the backs of his fingers. “I haven’t shaved since this morning. Didn’t know I was going to…do this….”
“It’s okay. I kind of like it.” He smiled and she placed her finger on the dimple his grin created. “I like that, too.”
“I could shave if you have a razor.”
“No.”
He cocked a brow.
“I mean, I have a razor,” she explained, “but I don’t want you to shave now.”
“But I want to kiss you.”
“I want you to kiss me. I just don’t want to wait.” She blushed at her impetuousness—her impatience.
Obliging, Dev ran a finger down the front of her pale-yellow robe and spread the fabric to the side until one breast was exposed. Her nipple puckered shamelessly, but she didn’t mind him looking at her. He lowered his face to the swell of her breast and pressed a kiss there. “Not too rough?”
“No-o.” Had she managed to say that out loud? “No,” she reiterated, in case the word had only been in her head. Brynna made a conscious effort to think clearly and realized then that Dev had barely made it inside her front door before she’d succumbed to the sublime pleasures he offered. Hating to interrupt the attention he was giving her breast, but needing to move them to a more comfortable location, she took his hand and led him down the hallway to her bedroom.
She stood just inside for a moment, seeing the room with his eyes. It was by no means a lover’s den. Her bedroom was functional and represented her busy life, with a desk and filing cabinet in one corner, a treadmill in the other. The light from the hallway was enough to illuminate her plain double bed with unimaginative plaid sheets and the comforter she hadn’t even bothered to pull up that morning. No one ever saw her bed.
Devlin obviously couldn’t have cared less whether her bed was made. He released her hand, wrapped his strong arms around her and kissed her so thoroughly, she forgot to be embarrassed by the intense situation and her lack of finesse. He stroked her throat, touched her hair, and the fire was back.
Minutes later, he was backing her toward her bed, edging the robe from her shoulders, and she gladly helped him in the task of peeling damp jeans down his hips and off into a heap on the floor. They fell back on her bed, their bodies touching flesh-to-flesh—his legs cool because of the rain-soaked denim he’d just removed.
Dev stretched out over her, his weight a delicious mix of pleasure and torment. Holding him, touching him, was so much more emotionally and physically gratifying than anything she’d ever experienced…wanting him wasn’t enough…not nearly enough…yet wanting him was everything.
Somehow, Brynna knew that this experience with this man was going to be something extraordinary. It was already enough to bring tears to her eyes.
She kissed his neck…cupped his jaw and tasted his incredible thrill-inspiring mouth by gently sucking his lower lip, then seeking his tongue and deepening the contact, needing to become a part of him.
This was crazy—crazy wonderful.
Dev kissed her in return, his hand sliding across her shoulder to her breast. His mouth left hers to taste the nub he’d worked to a rigid point, and Brynna closed her eyes against the intensity of the sensations. She’d been ready and willing since sitting across from him at Joe’s—and she appreciated his efforts to prolong the inevitable—but she really didn’t think she could wait any longer.
When at last he slid his hand down her hip, across her belly and between her thighs, intuitively knowing just how and where to stroke, she bit her lower lip and held back a cry. He kissed her, as though he understood