Her words stunned him quiet. Not what she said, but that she was discussing this at all. He’d planned on kissing her and she was already fast-tracking to discussions of getting naked. Or maybe that was how those other guys had handled being with Catriona.
“You’re saying the guys you dated were duds in bed.”
A smile chased away some of the worry on her face. “That sounds better than saying I was the dud.”
And right there, he saw it. What he’d been misunderstanding about her all along. She seemed so at peace and confident in her world. He’d put her on some kind of “serenity goddess” pedestal. While she had accepted him, flaws and all, he hadn’t looked clear through to her, to see her insecurity—over what, he didn’t know. But apparently somewhere along the line something or someone had done a number on her, making her lose sight of how perfect she was—an original.
She’d certainly pulled him out of the fog he’d been walking in.
And then there was the way she’d insisted on being here with him rather than being tucked away at a hotel with another PJ team member watching out for her. She’d packed her clothes, loaded up his truck while he flipped in and out of flashbacks and flights of panic. Her quiet determination yanked him through a time in his life when he could have easily lost it altogether. But she wanted to be here.
She’d refused to be anywhere else.
Brandon lifted her hands and kissed her knuckles. “If he had an orgasm and you didn’t, that makes him the dud for not doing his part of the work.”
Her eyes went wide, then she coughed through a laugh. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. While I’m not a hundred percent sure I agree, it’s a lot more fun to think of those guys as duds than just jackasses.”
Those guys. Plural? How many men had let her down? How many times had she opened her heart to an unworthy bastard who hadn’t given a damn about her? He didn’t want to know. He didn’t need to know.
He did know that if he was ever lucky enough to sleep with her, he would make sure she came—more than once. Although the jury was still out on whether he could close the deal for himself. No matter how many times the shrink told him the cause was in his mind—or rather in the head above his waist rather than the one below—the end result was the same.
There was no end result for him…
A branch smacked the window and he realized he’d zoned out and Cat was staring at him patiently, waiting for him to return. He tucked her to him and put his all into kissing her, thoroughly, the way a man should kiss a woman. With his whole focus on her.
Tuning into when she tugged him closer.
Listening for those kittenish sighs that told him he’d touched her in just the right place.
For the first time in too long, he enjoyed the hell out of having a woman in his arms. There was no rush, because he wasn’t going to take advantage of her trust. He wasn’t going to screw her on the floor of a cabin with too many people a wall away.
So like a kid in high school again, he was just making out on a quilt. Lying alongside her, hands roving, he kissed her, and hey wait, she was guiding his palm to her breast. He eased back to check her eyes, make sure she was in the moment and not just doing what she thought he expected. Although it was tough to see her eyes, with her lashes closed and her head thrown back in pleasure.
Yes.
A distant part of his brain told him this was going beyond just making out. This was heading toward something more—everything more. She’d meant what she said about knowing her mind, being strong and determined. Right now it was clear she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her.
Damned if he had the strength to tell her no. He would gladly take this as far as she wanted.
Dipping his head, he nuzzled her neck, which stirred another of those purring sighs from her, so he kept right on. Tasting, listening, feeling her nipple harden.
And so did he.
The blood rushing south caught him unaware, then settled while his thoughts scattered. He bunched the hem of her T-shirt in his hands and inched it up, slowly, revealing inch by inch of creamy pale skin and freckles. Regardless of what she said about being tough, unbreakable, he couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone so delicate. Actually, he couldn’t think of anyone else period. She filled his eyes and hands and senses.
She raised her arms and he tugged the shirt the rest of the way over her head. She shook her hair free in a gingery cloud that settled around her bared shoulders. Wearing nothing but her shorts and a sports bra, she wasn’t overly exposed, but there was something erotic about her natural beauty that didn’t need glamming up.
As he stared, her ni**les went harder, pushing against the gray cotton of her bra, letting him know just how much he turned her on. And wasn’t that heady stuff?
She shimmied out of her shorts, revealing gray cotton bikinis with lace along the edges, the high rise making her slim legs stretch even longer. She started to pull the matching lace-trimmed sports bra upward, and he swept away her hands.
He traced the straps over her shoulders—lace and cotton, sexy and down-to-earth at the same time. “Call me greedy, but I want to do the unveiling.”
“And if I want to go the striptease route?” Her plump lips went pouty and sultry.
“Next time.” God, he hoped there could be a next time. So far, his body was still full on, hard throttle.
“Or I could undress you.” She punctuated each word by kissing his chest, moving lower and lower still, all the way down to his navel. Her hand landed on his fly in an unmistakable message. In a moment of clarity, he realized she was operating off some old agenda from those jackass duds who took and never gave back.