Be My Love (7 page)

She ground against him. “You know what I want?”

“What?” he groaned, and trailed hot kisses along her shoulder as she began to move.

“I want to give you what you want. But first…” She rocked her hips, adding to the aching need building in her core.

“Yeah?” he breathed.

“First, I want to ride you until you scream
my
name.” She used his hair to pull his head back. His gaze twinkled as it met hers, and his mouth parted. She crushed her lips against his. The rough callouses of his hands dug into the soft flesh of her hips as he clutched her and helped create a perfect rhythm.

He wanted her to be his?

As the inferno grew and stars began to swim in her vision, she realized she might’ve already given him his wish.

****

As the storm raged through the night and next day, Brenna delightfully helped tick off Eric’s list of wants. With no sign of the blizzard letting up, it looked as though they might make it through the sexual marathon his imagination had planned.

Content and spent, they lay entangled on a bed in one of the upstairs rooms.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Eric said as he trailed kisses up her body, which gleamed with a light sheen of sweat. The soft cotton sheets stuck to the underside of her thighs.

Her stomach rumbled.

Eric glanced up. His hair mussed, his own body slightly sweaty, his gaze burning with green intensity..

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Always.”

“Mmmm.” He continued his kissing path upward.

“I also want real food.”

His chest rumbled as he chuckled and rolled off her. The bed they’d claimed for the continuation of their sex-capades lay in disarray—the sheets rumpled and untucked. The room smelled of wood panelling and faintly of musty old sheets, but now their lovemaking left its own stamp.

“I also need a shower,” she said.

“Well, you are a dirty girl, but I don’t think a loofa will cure that.”

She smacked his shoulder. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He winked.

She stretched her arms over her head and extended her legs. Her muscles a dichotomy of limber and stiff. Her body deeply satiated and relieved of months and months of sexual tension, now grew stiff from their rather rigorous schedule and ambitious positions.

“Okay, until the power comes back, an actual shower is out,” Eric said. “But I could arrange sponge baths for our mutual satisfaction. Then we could delve into a hearty breakfast.”

“Lunch.”

He picked up his cell phone and tapped it on. “Lunch.”

Her stomach rumbled at the promise of food. “Food first, then sponge baths. I have a feeling the latter will lead to something else.”

“See?” He ran a finger down her bare arm. “Dirty girl.”

****

With an easy silence, Brenna climbed into her day-old clothes and watched Eric do the same. He slipped the jeans over his ass and zipped up the fly. Somehow they’d managed to clean and hang her chocolate-soaked clothes beside his during a break. Now the fire-dried, slightly damp clothes chafed against her skin. She wanted to stay naked with Eric. Did he have to wear the shirt?

He tugged on the sleeve while it hung on the drying line, and his gaze flicked to her.

She shook her head.

His grin widened, and he left the shirt hanging by the fire. His muscles rippled, and she drank in the sight of his well-toned body. That V killed her.

A memory of tracing it with her tongue streaked through her mind.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Come on.” Eric grabbed her hand and led her to the kitchen. He made instant coffee by boiling water in a pot over the fire while Brenna made sandwiches. Luckily, most of the stuff she’d brought up didn’t go bad in one day, and the ham had been left in the cold storage room.

With hunger pains stabbing her stomach, Brenna shoved the food in her mouth with no care of what Eric thought—she was passed the point of self-consciousness. Her lip split when she tried to get more food in her mouth. With a wince, she flicked her gaze to Eric. He hadn’t noticed any of her table manners, or lack thereof—too busy stuffing food into his own face with the same frantic vigour. She laughed, and Eric paused with half a sandwich shoved in his mouth to glance at her.

“I still don’t see why we had to get dressed for this,” Eric muttered with a mouth full of food. He paused, glanced down at his bare chest and sent her a wink. “Well, mostly dressed.”

“I don’t want our bare asses on the furniture.”

He raised a dark eyebrow.

“Well, okay. Not
all
the furniture.” She grabbed a quick swig of water. “If we did, I’d have to admit the possibility my brother and his harem of harlots have done the same thing, and that’s just icky.”

“Harem of harlots?”

“He’s a bit of a player,” she said.

“He’s not playing them if they’re aware of the situation and agree to it.”

She nodded while her mind reeled. They hadn’t had any serious conversations, at least none in the English language. They hadn’t spoken about tomorrow, or after the cabin, or what, exactly, they were doing. Was this a situation? Was she “aware” of it, and by lack of denial, agreeing to it?

She sensed their stolen moments meant as much to Eric as they did to her, but maybe she sensed wrong. Maybe they were on different pages, or hell, reading entirely different books. Maybe this was only a physical thing for him, another wondrous notch in his belt as he told lies with his body.

She shook the thought away. She refused to ruin this weekend with her self-doubt. She’d already made a deal with herself to save all serious conversations for after the blizzard. That way she could escape any awkwardness from his rejection by going home.

Eric repeated “harem of harlots” under his breath again and shook his head. He polished off the rest of the food.

She pulled dessert from her pocket and placed it on the table beside Eric’s plate.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Candy hearts. They’re a Jones tradition. I brought a bunch of packages to binge on during my read-athon.” Wow, did her plans for this weekend change.

“I love these things.” He snatched the package from the table’s smooth surface. After ripping it open, he pulled out the candies, one by one, reading their messages before placing them in a pile.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “That’s not how you eat them!”

She reached out to grab the candy, but he batted her hand away playfully.

“Relax. There’s more than one way to eat something.” He waggled his brows at her.

“Pig.”

“Not what you called me last night.”

She bit her lip. “Seriously, though. That’s not—”

“Shhh.”

He continued the practice until he pulled out a pink heart, no different than any of the previous pink hearts he’d placed in the pile, and smiled.

“Aha!” He held it up and glanced at her. His brows pinched together, and his mouth compressed into a thin line before he turned to her. His expression softened, but remained serious.

“It’s just candy,” she said.

“Not to me,” he replied. “I want you to have this.”

He held out his hand, palm open. She plucked the candy up and flipped it around in her fingers.

BE MY LOVE stared back at her.

Something expanded in her chest. Something warm and delicious. She glanced up to find Eric smiling, hesitantly, as if unsure of her response.

She bit her lip again. “I think I am already.”

Eric surged forward and grasped her head between both large hands. His mouth found hers. His tongue plunged in. The force of his kiss almost knocked her off the chair, but he scooped her up and gently lowered her to the hard floor instead. The chair tipped back and clattered against the floor beside them.

In seconds, he had her undressed and splayed as he thrust into her. Every nerve ending hummed with pleasure, with the feeling of how
right
this moment was.

****

Eric walked down the stairs with weightless shoulders and a spring in his step. As the storm outside abated during their second night together, Eric and Brenna worked through his wish list—or at least made a heroic effort. It was, after all, a long and ambitious list.

Between sharing their dreams and cuddling while they slept, entangled in each other’s limbs, they made love—almost as if a sense of urgency drove them to get everything out of this weekend, almost desperate and frenzied, as if they both feared leaving the cabin would dispel some or all of the magic they’d created inside.

Well, he refused to let that happen. Despite promising to wait until the storm blew over for any serious conversations, he’d initiated
the
conversation, with candy of all things.
Smooth, Buchanan.
His lack of refinement didn’t matter, though. Not to him, and from all appearances, not to Brenna, either. He was all in. His body and the candy heart had already said as much. Later, he’d whispered his heart’s desires to Brenna, but lost in the moment, he now worried she didn’t realize the truth behind his words.
What else could he do?
Verbally restate everything? Yes. Place his cards on the table, and tell her what he wanted—a relationship.

He placed his bag next to the door and turned to watch Brenna’s hand tremble as she stuffed the last item into her backpack.

Time to find out if Brenna truly reciprocated all the things he’d felt, all the things he’d purred as he gave her a
very
thorough sponge bath.

He grinned.

Brenna caught his knowing look. She glanced away, but not before her cheeks flamed that adorable red.

With cell reception back in full force, and the blizzard blown out, Brenna had called her father to pick her up, and his parents were making their way over as soon as they could dig out their vehicles. The snowmobile sat under a few feet of snow, and it probably wouldn’t start without being plugged in. Besides, he didn’t want to leave Brenna.

Face it Buchanan, you don’t want her out of your sight because you’re worried she’ll change her mind.

Or realize you’re not worthy.

He clenched his fists and forced his shoulders down. He watched Brenna mill around the room. His whole body thrummed from overuse, but he still wanted to wrap her in his arms and curl up with her on the couch.

“Wish we had more time up here,” he admitted as he walked up from behind and pulled her in for a hug. He pressed his lips into her neck and inhaled her rosy scent. Her butt pressed into his groin, and his body ached for her. He closed his eyes and enjoyed her warmth.

“Me, too,” she sighed. “But I have to get back for my early shift tomorrow.”

He nodded and squeezed her tight. “I’m lucky to have tomorrow off. I’ll try to get your truck up and running, but if that fails, I’ll arrange for a tow.”

She pulled out of his grasp and picked up the remaining bags. He helped her move her backpack and emergency kit beside the door alongside his stuff. They’d already cleaned up the living room, bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom. There wasn’t anything left to do but wait.

Wait for the end?

Fuck that. He told her he wanted a relationship, and he’d meant it.

Why did she look so nervous then? Why did her hands tremble?

Despite her words, did she no longer feel the same way? Or did she doubt him? She shouldn’t. He lived in Vancouver, the same city and only a thirty minute commute away from Brenna’s place. They’d make this work.

“Brenna.” Her name rolled off his tongue.

She stopped visually sweeping the room, and turned to him. “Yes?”

“I—”

Bam!

The cabin’s front door slammed open and interrupted what he’d planned to say.

****

Brenna stood in shock as a blonde bombshell with a classic hourglass figure, big ski-bunny hair, and a porn-star worthy pout barged into the cabin and threw her considerable charms all over Eric. Her body wrapped around his, like an octopus attacking prey.

“Eric!” she squealed. “I was so worried.”

Eric’s parents clambered into the cabin through the open door and wiped their feet on the rug. Paul Buchanan looked like an older replica of Eric, with the same powerful, tall build and sandy hair; whereas, Shannon Buchanan held little resemblance to her son, save her piercing green gaze.

Still extremely aware of the mewling blonde fawning over the man she’d practically licked from head to toe hours ago, Brenna squeezed her fists tight and turned to Mr. and Mrs. Buchanan.

“Hello,” Brenna said. “It’s been a long time.”

Eric’s parents nodded, his father with a slight frown and turned down mouth, and his mother with a semi-distracted smile. They barely glanced her way before returning their attention to the spectacle behind Brenna. Whatever they saw pleased them, because their eyes twinkled and they exchanged satisfied smiles.

“Who’s that?” Brenna nodded her head at the blonde. There had to be a reasonable explanation for this.

“The future Mrs. Eric Buchanan,” Eric’s mom gushed.

Fire raced through Brenna’s veins, and her face heated. She turned to find the blonde still draped over Eric, petting his hair and face while mumbling incoherently. Eric sent Brenna a panicked look over the blonde’s shoulder, then tried to untangle himself.