Page 93 of The Other Side

My palms brace themselves on the counter. I turn my head, and Brant pulls back just enough.

Our eyes are locked before I confess. “You’re my last.”

His gaze tunnels to my mouth. He releases one of my hips, and the pad of his thumb drags my bottom lip down.

My eyes hood through the hot spark of his touch. I’m prepared to crush my mouth to his, but his thumb swipes along the length of my lip.

I knit my brows when he smears my berry lipstick onto my chin. He’s creating a mess of my makeup. Trailing his finger in the opposite direction until a streak of wax paints my skin there too.

He rubs my lipstick off in a cycle of harsh swipes. A heat sears my back, and I swivel within his embrace.

He’s erasing any remnant of Jesse off me.

My mouth settles into his coarse palm, nudging against it like goddamn catnip. And before my next breath, my lips are naked.

I tuck my swollen mouth as I grip the counter behind me. Brant’s thumbs affectionately stroke my jawline clean, and a moan elicits from my throat.

I rest my wobbly hands over his as he completes his mission. “Fuck me,” I gasp.

He bends to palm the backs of my thighs, hoisting me onto the countertop.

“Fuck me, Brant. Please.” My fingers claw at the buttons of his dress shirt, needing to feel him.

Dove.

He’s in there. I know he is.

“There’s only one Callie Rae Montgomery my cock wants.” He snakes his fingers behind my neck. His digits fiddle with the clasp of my tennis necklace while mine unbutton his top. “Is she here?”

I nod urgently, exposing his rippled chest. I allow his dress shirt to hang open, and my hands instantly toy with the hair clip holding my sleek bun together.

Then his fingers greet my earlobes. “Come on, get my dick hard. Show me her,” he breathes, flicking the fasteners off my stud earrings.

It’s amazing, truly.

We’re cloaked in everything we once dreamed about, but the only thing we wish to do is strip all of it off. Until we’re left bare to find the other’s soul.

Until we look like two doves.

I remove the barrette, dropping it on the butcher block. He flings the tennis necklace and earrings to the floor, the clanking of the diamonds booming through the kitchen.

My palms tousle my hair loose before his fingers hook into my spaghetti straps. He yanks them down my arms, revealing my naked breasts.

My nipples painfully pucker once they kiss the air. His hands dive to the hem of my dress, and mine slip into his collar.

I gasp when he briefly pops my ass off the counter to bunch the garment up. He jerks the fabric of my dress so it’s mangled around my waist, and I massage his carved shoulders.

His hand cuddles my throat, and we crash our lips together.

He’s hot and skilled, caressing my lips in an erotic frenzy. I frame his face to trap his mouth, reclining to lay flush against the butcher block.

He curls my leg tightly around his hip, my stiletto heel sinking into his pants above his ass. Flames erupt between us as butterflies take flight. He rolls his hips, the buckle of his belt nudging my clit through my sopping panties.

Trapped mewls jumble between us, and our tongues lap up ten years in a wild rush. He sinks his thumb into the sensitive flesh of my throat, hitting that throbbing pulse point in my neck.

“Did you have fun fucking all those boys after me?” he asks against my aching lips.

I shake my head feverishly through a whine. “No. Never.”