He could pretend he was a better guy than he was. He could be all chivalrous and restrain himself, but the truth was he wanted her and she needed to know that she was desirable no matter what had happened to her in the past. It tarnished nothing. If anything, her strength in coping only made her more desirable.
Leaning down, he tugged her closer and brushed her lips with his. They were soft and yielding under his. He licked the seam and groaned as she opened for him. He’d wanted this from the moment he saw her that day on the trail.
He explored her mouth, all the while fighting the urge to grab her tight and roll her under him. He wanted to feel her along him, feel those breasts smashed against his chest as he ground his cock into her. That would not be the way to proceed here. Not treating her like a victim didn’t mean tap dancing on her scars.
Clamping down on his less productive urges, he pulled back and growled, “In my lap, Bridget. Now.”
Her eyebrows shot up at the demand, but she put up no resistance as he gripped her hips and brought her astride him. He kneaded the soft flesh of her ass through the cotton of her capri pants and resumed kissing her.
She kissed him back with an abandon that made him ache to strip her naked and take her. Her hips were nicely padded. He’d never have to worry about getting poked by errant hip bones as he pounded into her. The thought of being inside her had his cock hardening and he groaned as she pressed her hips into his groin.
“That’s right, Bridget,” he growled and pulled her hips in tighter. “Rub against me. Let go.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she complied and moaned a deep, low sound that made it that much harder not to let loose and go wild on her. He enjoyed the flex of her buttocks under his hands and the way she deepened the kiss obviously as excited as he was.
Letting go of her hips, he began to undo the buttons of her top. Slowly unwrapping her to reveal … the absolute ugliest bra on the face of the planet. It was a cage of cotton.
Not at all the delicate lace creation he’d been hoping, nay expecting to see on a woman as sexy as Bridget.
He eyed the contraption and was relieved to see a front clasp. At least he could open it and push it aside rather than being forced to look at it any more. With nimble fingers, he did just that and gave an appreciative groan as all that luscious skin spilled out.
Her breasts were full and large with rosy, pink nipples that were jutting out from her body. He had to taste them. He sucked one into his mouth and ate up the sound of her moans. She was practically churning in his lap, rotating her hips and pressing hard against the length of his erection.
He licked and sucked, laved and nipped at her nipples being sure to give each equal attention. She was rubbing herself hard against him and he was loathe to do anything to break her rhythm but he wanted to see her. Leaning back against the tree trunk, he ate up the sight of her.
Tendrils of her fiery hair were spilling out of her ponytail, framing her face. Her eyes were closed and her head back as she ground against him. Her breasts filled his hands as he massaged them, tweaking and rolling her nipples.
She moaned and made tiny mewling sounds and he encouraged her whispering words of desire and lust even as he struggled to keep his own release at bay.
“Cum for me, sweetness,” he demanded before sucking her nipple back into his mouth.
She wanted to cum for him. Bad. Her body was running away from her. She was losing control. The sensations were coursing through her body. She burned from head to toe and the ache in her womb was painful.
She relished it. Reveled in the ache and burn.
She wanted to grab him and demand he fuck her. She wanted to pinch her nipples until they hurt. Wanted to feel the ache and burn as he spanked her nipples til even the air made them scream.
She wanted him to throw her down, bind her and have his way with her while she was completely helpless. She wanted more, harder, rougher. Now.
With an anguished cry, Bridget pulled away from Connor breaking all contact.
“Bridget?” Connor’s confusion was apparent. “What happened? Did I do something wrong?”
It would be so easy to lay this at his doorstep. To act as if he’d done something wrong. But it would also be a lie and he didn’t deserve that.
Shaking her head, she said, “No, Connor. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Taking a deep breath, Bridget willed herself to relax. To retreat into that space that she always found in these moments.
It didn’t want to be found.
She felt erratic. Brittle.
She felt as if one touch from Connor would send her careening off an edge she’d spent the last twenty years ensuring she never even came close to.
He was dangerous to her carefully cultivated self-control.
“I don’t know if I can do this, Connor.”
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