ComfortZone (10 page)

She climbed over him—scrambled more like it—and sat on his
stomach, looking very pleased with herself. Like she was queen of the mountain.
“How do you feel about a little practice right now, handing over that control
of yours?”

The thought had him gritting his teeth, but really, the time
would come eventually. And maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. Time to
get a little uncomfortable. “You tell me, you’re in charge.”

The smile that crept over her lips should have sent ice
through his belly. But instead, it warmed his insides.

This was definitely a fun development. Mary Ellen knew
pushing too far would only make things harder. But playing it gently wasn’t
exactly her style either.

“Why don’t you go ahead and take that shirt off for me.” She
lifted so he could tug his shirt up, lightly scratching his chest with her
nails while he tossed the shirt away.

Would he change his mind? Unconsciously try to gain control
back at some point? No way to know but to give it a go.

She patted his thigh and rolled off. “Let’s see the goods.”
Her own clothes practically shed themselves as she hustled to be rid of them.
Turning back, she saw him lying down flat, arms behind his head, protection
already in place. Lead or follow—Brice would always keep her safe.

Like a cat, she crawled back over and situated herself until
his cock rested in the crease of her pussy.

“God, you feel warm against me,” he breathed as she leaned
down to graze her teeth over his shoulder.

“You know,” she said, pausing to give him a kiss. “I’ve been
thinking about your technique.” As emphasis, she ground down on his length.

His hips jerked, and she could tell it was involuntary. “My
technique? What’s wrong with it?” he said through his teeth.

She reached down, positioned his erection until it was at
just the right angle, and dropped an inch. Just one. Until only the head was
inside. She squeezed and he shivered. “No real spontaneity.”

“Having sex in the tack room at the stable wasn’t
spontaneous enough—dammit, Mary Ellen.”

“Nope,” she said cheerfully. “Not really. It was nice, don’t
get me wrong. But then you…” She dropped another inch. “Went all control-freak
again and it was too measured. When you’re doing it in public, where you can be
found, there’s a sense of urgency. Passion. That
gotta have it right now or
I’ll die
feeling. That you can’t wait…”Another inch down. “One more
second.”

“I’m starting to understand the point.” He gripped her hips,
and she knew he was about to pull her down.

“Uh uh. My turn.” She pried his fingers off and placed them
by his side, watching his face to see how he reacted.

He only closed his eyes, as if in pain, and resisted any
further advance.

Good.

Finally, on her timeline, she sank all the way down, filling
herself with him. The night around them seemed to pulse, she could feel every
little twinge of his body, every shuddered breath. The most intimate of moments
with the man she loved.

And she was not about to start crying.

It was that determination to hold back the tears that pushed
her forward to kiss him. The angle of their bodies changed, became deeper, and
she was ready to let loose. Skin stuck to skin as she pumped her hips fast,
ignoring rhythm. Ignoring anything but what felt good.

“Baby, slow down.” Brice tore his mouth away.

She couldn’t have slowed down if she wanted to. Luckily, she
didn’t. It was sporadic, at times a little awkward. And drawn out more than she
thought it would be. But before too long, she felt that slow ripple start low
in her belly and she breathed a word of warning moments before fireworks went
off behind her eyelids. Numbly, distantly, she heard Brice’s own groan of
release before his body went slack beneath her.

She twisted and repositioned, ignoring his moans, until her
head was on the center of his chest. It was soothing to listen to his heart, so
fast to begin with, slow down to a one-two rhythm.

Brice rested his chin on the crown of her head. “So are you
going to marry me?”

A flutter of excitement beat inside her chest, like
hummingbird wings. But she kept her voice cool. “I’ll think about it.”

“You’ve ruined me for any other woman, you know.” He smoothed
one hand down her back, rested it lightly under her butt. “You’ll just have to
get over it and commit.”

She yawned. “Like I said, I’ll think about it.”

His deep chuckle rumbled in her ear as she drifted to sleep.
“You do that.”

Epilogue

She woke to the building pressure of an impending orgasm.
How in the world…

“Finally.” Brice kissed the side of her neck, keeping his
voice low. “I thought you’d never wake up.”

“I’m on vacation. And it’s not even six yet,” she pointed
out, glancing at the clock on the hotel nightstand to confirm. “I don’t have to
wake up when I’m on vacation. And speaking of, what are you doing back there,
sir?”

“Having my way with you while you completely ignore me,
apparently.” He sighed with regret. “It’s truly a shame how far a guy can get
without any notice. I feel so used. Like a toy.”

“But you don’t fit in my nightstand drawer,” she said,
deadpan face in place.

Brice rolled her over with a fake growl and nipped at her
breast. That Mr. Serious could be so playful was a fantastic surprise. Over the
past year, she’d learned even more about the different facets of Brice’s
personality when he allowed himself to relax, to not be on guard. To hand over
the reins occasionally.

Not that it wasn’t still a struggle sometimes. But they fought
through it, and each time came out stronger because of it.

He slid one of her arms up over her head, let his fingers
drift until they laced with hers. As he slowly—always slowly with this
one—entered her, he gave her the most solemn face she’d seen in a long time.

“I love you.”

She squeezed his hand. “I love you too.”

“In a few hours we’re going to watch Pete and Sarah get
married.”

He angled his hips, and she closed her eyes for a moment to
savor the new pressure. “Mmm hmm. Sure are.”

He nuzzled the sweet spot below her ear, kissed her skin.
Whispered, “I want it to be us.”

God, she loved this man. For the last year, he’d asked her
every so often, nudging her toward the altar slowly but steadily. Not that she
was against marriage. But when she said I do, it was forever. And there wasn’t
a rush.

But he’d finished wearing her down. He finished a month ago,
really. But he hadn’t brought it up since then.

Another thrust brought her closer, filled her deeper.

“Marry me, Mary Ellen.”

She lifted her lids to see liquid, brown eyes staring at
her, as if he knew this was the make-it-or-break-it moment.

“Yeah. I’ll do that.”

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