guttural rumble—and realized he was the one making the noise. As if the force was driving him, he deepened the kiss. He couldn’t get enough of her. She tasted like the champagne they’d shared. But there was something else...something uniquely her. And it was threatening to drive him crazy.
His hands slid from her hair down her shoulders, and he closed his arms around her, pulling her closer. He memorized the feel of her as he lowered her back, onto the ground.
“Are you okay?” he asked in a brief moment of clarity. He would never force her to do anything that made her uncomfortable. “Is this...okay?”
“I’ve never been better.” She smiled up at him. “I have a feeling I’m going to be even better very soon. So please don’t stop now.”
He held her gaze for a moment, until little pinpricks of longing injected him with a need so powerful it had him seeing stars. When he reclaimed her lips, it lifted him off the ground and into the heavens of lusty bliss. When was the last time he’d wanted a woman so badly that it bordered on greed?
On need...
He unbuttoned her coat and slipped his hands inside, savoring every inch of her—her tiny waist, her sexy hips. That red dress was all that stood between him and that glorious body. He slid his hands back up her torso, around her rib cage and paused underneath her breasts, giving her one more chance to slow things down, if she wanted.
God, he hoped she wouldn’t.
When she deepened the kiss and pulled him closer, stretching one long leg out, crossing it over his, he knew she wasn’t going anywhere without him tonight.
That’s when what little control he had left shattered.
He eased her down onto his jacket, taking care that his touch wasn’t as rough and desperate as he felt. When he covered her with his body, the only thing he was aware of was how her lips and tongue were doing amazing things to his mouth. When his hand slipped under the neckline of her dress and his fingers found their way to her breast beneath her bra, she moaned, a muffled sound under his lips.
“You okay?” he said, resting his forehead on hers. “If you want, we can stop.”
* * *
She appreciated his concern. He was a gentleman, but she didn’t want to talk.
She didn’t want to stop, and she didn’t want to talk about it.
Because if they started talking, she might try to explain herself.
She was so tired of explaining herself.
It was her body. Her choice to have him... Just because she chose to make love to a virtual stranger, it didn’t make her any less of a human being. Men did it all the time...had one-night stands...even when they were engaged...with the church booked and the catering ordered...the white dress hanging in the bride-to-be’s closet and the wedding two weeks away.
But she wasn’t going to think about men like that tonight. She was going to prove to herself exactly how liberated she was. She was going to take back her power by enjoying this fine, hot guy. Her wedding favor. Actually, he was more like a gift...but not a wedding gift. She’d sent all those back after she’d thrown the ring in Eric’s face.
She needed to stop thinking about Eric. He’d already ruined her life once.
There was no room for him—especially not tonight.
To drown out the incessant chatter in her head, Caitlyn deepened their kiss. Brodie groaned and nudged her thighs apart with his knee, nesting his lower body into hers. When she felt his arousal, thick and hard against her, she grabbed his backside and pulled him even closer, just to make sure there was no doubt about exactly how okay she was with their closeness.
His murmured answer was muddled and unintelligible against her lips; he seemed to understand. His intention was clear in the way he smoothed his hand up her bare leg. When his fingers reached her upper thigh and he deftly eased her out of her panties, his actions told her everything she needed to know.
When they were naked and ready, she held on tight as he unleashed himself up on her body.
Later, when they lay spent and sated in each other’s arms, she wasn’t sure if hours or days had passed. It was as if they’d been lifted out of space and time into a world where only the two of them existed.
But no... It couldn’t have been days because it was still dark outside, and she had to go home before the sun came up. She was staying with her parents while she was here. They’d send out the National Guard if she didn’t come home. She snuggled into the warmth of him for one more luxurious moment, breathing in the scent of him...of them...before she gently wriggled out from under his protective arm.
He stirred. “Where are you going?”
“I have to go home.”
“Chicago? Tonight? Don’t do that. Stay with me. Some of the best meteors happen just before dawn.”
It was already late, but she could see her mother’s face if she came in doing the walk of shame, with the sun on her back. Caitlyn may have been twenty-nine years old and living on her own since she’d gone off to college, but when she came home to visit the folks, she was twelve years old again.
“No, I’m sorry. I really do have to go.”
As she straightened her clothes and smoothed her hair into place, she watched Brodie lying there, propped up on one elbow, watching her. He really was a beautiful man. That face...and that body. Oh, what he could do with that body. It was one of the best experiences she’d ever had. Not that she’d had that many. She’d certainly never done this before. Brodie the Brit had been nothing short of amazing. It was a shame that she’d never see him again. What had started out to be an evening of obligation had turned into a night she would never forget.
Never forget and definitely not regret.
“Will you walk me to my car?” she asked.
“Of course.” Once he’d righted himself and brushed off the dirt from his jacket, they were walking arm in arm back to the parking lot.
“I’m sorry about your coat,” she said.
“Don’t give it a second thought. In fact, I might just have it framed and hang it on my wall to remember tonight.”
The temperature had dropped a good ten degrees, and by the time they made it back around to the lot, most of the cars were gone. The courtesy golf carts and their drivers were nowhere to be found. It was that late.
As she fumbled in her purse for her keys, she checked her phone for the time.
Three forty-five in the morning.
Irrational panic ceased her. She should’ve been home hours ago.
She didn’t want to ruin everything with awkward goodbyes, but she had to get out of there.
“Brodie the Brit,” she said. They were standing maybe five inches apart. “This has been such a wonderful evening. Look, if you’re ever in Chicago...”
She realized how
