Let It Go (29 page)

“I want to…trust you…trust myself. It’s all happening so fast.” She reaches out, her arms begging to encircle his shoulders, only to pull them back to her waist. “I figured when I finalized everything, my divorce, I’d take some time by myself. Work through things before I jumped right into another relationship.”

“You think I might be a rebound?” Brody probes, concerned and growing insecure himself.

Savannah shakes her head, releasing an exhausting breath. “You’re not rebound material,” she says through a painful smile.

“Well then, what’s the problem?” He smiles back reassuringly, his sweet face level and beseeching of hers.

“It took you three years to get over everything from your divorce. If you had met me directly after, would you have taken the chance?” Savannah puts him in her position.

“I wish I would’ve met you before my first marriage,” Brody affirms. “Maybe it could have saved us both some lost time. Savannah, I’ve said it before, ‘What happened, happened and it couldn’t have happened any other way.’” Again, he quotes Morpheus from one of his favorite films,
The Matrix.
“You and I have come to this moment for a reason. How else can you explain the fact that we’ve both been through it before, and we’re here, now, with one another?”

“I know,” she whispers. Hanging her head to her chin, she focuses on her wringing hands.

“Do you?” Brody asks. Taking her hand in his, he holds it over her heart. “What’s it say? How do you feel, when you’re with me?”

Savannah aches under his touch, her eyes closing momentarily only to open, finding his deep and needy staring back at her. “Thought you were Mr. Logical…with your checklist,” she whispers through a tender smile.

“There’s a time and a place for everything, baby. I have all the logic I need when I’m driving down the road thinking about you and me and how it all plays out,” he clarifies. “Now is not the time for logic. Tell me how you
feel,
Savannah,” he pleads, his hands rubbing at the denim fabric covering her thighs.

She closes her eyes, unable to testify with his, intense and intoxicating, looking back at her. Giving in to his sweltering presence, she begins, “I feel warm and safe.” Her lashes press tighter together. “Wanted, sheltered…um…light…you know, kind of like floating on a cloud.” She pauses, searching for words to express a most content feeling. “I don’t think I’m explaining it very well. I feel…like it wouldn’t matter if the whole world stopped.”

“Right as rain,” Brody identifies, his deep syrupy voice drowning her fears.

“Yeah,” she emits a pleasurable whisper, her eyes finally meeting his.

Brody pulls her to him, his forehead resting on hers. His hands take turns stroking her hair and the sides of her face. “I’ve heard people talk about it. This feeling.” He kisses her forehead. “I asked my mama, after my divorce, ‘How will I know when I’m ready again? When the right one comes along?’” He kisses her left cheek. “Asked my daddy the same question. Probably the only time they ever agreed.” Brody chuckles, kissing her right cheek, his fingers provocatively trailing over her skin. “‘You’ll just know, Son. It’ll be effortless. Just feels right,’ they said.” He kisses her chin, milling his way to her lips, hovering there. “It’s never felt so right.”

“Uh-huh,” she whispers, her bottom lip growing wet with moisture at the anticipation of its contact with his.

“You’re the one I’ve been waiting for, Sweet Savannah,” his low, libidinous tone is followed up with a soft, lingering kiss. Indulging in the fullness of her lips, the tip of his tongue is playful in its exploration of her mouth, teasing and building with mounting pressure. The exchange of wet and warmth where they touch at odds with the chill and emptiness of the air between, together they work to fully seal the union, saturating each other with their whiskey-tinged taste.

Coming up for air, Savannah releases him of his t-shirt in search of a repeat from their prior football follies. Her eyes roam his chiseled torso much the same as they did when he solidified himself as a member of the
skins
. Her hands splay across his chest, her thumbs coming together and sinking into the deep defining cleft that separates his pectorals. As her fingers continue to roam south, her thumbs centered and exploring the
happy trail
of taut flesh leading to his navel, her green eyes glance up, the image of his rugged personable face as satisfying at what lies beneath her touch. “You’re simply the most beautiful thing,” she says.

Brody looks at her slightly taken aback, having been referred to by a lot of complimentary adjectives,
beautiful
never the operative masculine word. Considering the endearing and salacious way in which she looks at him, he is ultimately satisfied with the expression. “Lift your arms,” he purrs.

His hands firmly grazing her skin at every contact as he pulls her t-shirt from her body, taking note of the softness of her skin juxtaposed to the tone beneath. Releasing her bra from her back with one skillful flex of his fingers, the straps fall from her arms. The cool air in the room coupled with the presence of Brody’s gandering steel blues deftly brings her flesh to a point at the center of her full breasts. Unable to resist feeling her skin to skin, Brody hugs her chest and stomach tightly to his, reveling in the peaks and valleys of her form.

The stickiness of their sun-kissed, football-playing hide ever-present adheres them. “Think I have time for a quick shower?” Savannah purrs, her lips thick with the taste of his salty skin.

“Let’s do,” he says. Standing with her fixed around his waist, he maneuvers to the bathroom, fastidiously relieving her and himself of any remaining clothes. The ceiling lights dim, he starts a warm, steady stream from the overhead rainfall shower spout.

“Nice view,” Savannah giggles, stepping into the mirror-lined roomy shower.

“‘The better to see you with, my dear,’” Brody playfully rips off The Big Bad Wolf, pulling Savannah under the falling water as it cascades over their entangled bodies. Her kiss, the wettest he has tasted, gentle water adding a completely new dimension to the meeting of their mouths. “Did you have fun this afternoon?” Brody makes conversation as his hands lather shampoo through her dirty blonde mane.

“Loved every minute of it.” She smiles, taking his lead, her hands massaging the bubbly agent through his thick, dark hair.

“Ah, that feels good.” He groans at her fingertips, kneading tiny circles against his scalp. “Think you could get used to that? Spending time with me and my family?” He carefully tips her head back allowing the water to rinse the lather from her long locks, the weight momentarily pulling the curls straight.

“Without a doubt. Think I could get used to this, too.” She sighs, charmed at being bathed.

“You could pack up your house. Move on in. Make this a nightly ritual,” he entices with a handsome grin. “Stay forever.” His smile disappears, replaced with sincere ambition.

“Now, don’t go letting the moment lead your mouth to writing checks your fine ass can’t cash.” Savannah plays off his sentiment, her hands, timely in their fondling execution, roam ever so slowly over the muscled dimples of his lower back, settling on his firm, round attribute.

“You think I’m bluffing,” Brody challenges. Grabbing up a bottle of body wash, he drizzles it from her neck to her navel, lathering it over her body with his hands, taking great care with the luscious bounty sitting atop her ribcage. Savannah gives into a gratified moan, escalating to an aroused, kittenish purr as he plucks her nipples to a stiff point. Settling on his knees, his hands work circles around her taut abdomen. “I can’t wait to get you pregnant,” he continues with his talk of a future.

The comment slightly intimidating but mostly intriguing, Savannah retreats to whimsical fare, “We sure do get enough practice.” She returns his attention, her hands roaming in their sudsy cleansing of his back.

“How many kids do you want?” Brody looks up at her, the ends of his eyelashes accentuated by drops of water.

“Two is a manageable number,” she says softly, stroking his incomparably bewitching face. “So long as they get your lashes.”

“And your lips,” he says, rising to meet them. “So you’ve been thinking about it? You, me, kids?” he inquires between water-drenched kisses.

“More than thinking,” she lets out between breaths. “I made a checklist.” She giggles, poking fun at his pastime, however fully serious in her intent.

“How am I measuring up?” He stands much like a superhero, puffing out his chest, the playful action flexing his overpowering frame.

“I’d say things are shaping
up
just fine,” she spars back, her hand trailing down to his thighs, gently giving a soapy shine to an overly attentive
Thor
.

Taking his cue, Brody pulls them under the water, efficiently rinsing their simmering frames. Draping Savannah’s arms about his shoulders, he supports her weight,
Thor
diligent in his pursuit of his most prized dwelling. “Ah,” Brody groans with the entry. Even though the water washing over his back is warm and refreshing, it fails in its heat and spine-tingling exhilaration when compared to her innermost kingdom.

Savannah fights for air taking him in, finally exhaling once he is fully immersed. “Ah Gawd,” she whispers, her teeth biting down on his shoulder. Catching their entwined image in the mirror behind her, she discovers a new turn-on. The balmy vision something out of a movie as the muscles in his back and legs support her weight, propelling the gentle pumping action of his hips.

Pressing her back against the reflective shower wall, Brody maintains his smooth, velvety cadence. Both of them watch the union of their forms in the steamy illustrative surface, further driving their desire. “I could never get tired of this. You. Seeing you like this,” he talks, watching her in the mirror, her drenched body moving measure for measure with his. “You’re so
fucking
beautiful,” he whispers, his tone somewhere between hurt and hunger. “It feels so
fucking
right,” again, he muffles the adjective, unable to censure it completely.

Finally looking away from the mirror, his face hovers about hers, forehead to forehead, nose to nose, chin to chin, their mouths wet and wanting, the distance between painful. “I’m sorry I can’t find a more appropriate way to say it. What you do to me,” he laments, his steel blues pleading with her dark greens for understanding and mutuality.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Savannah whispers through an escaping moan, his rhythm growing heady. “I can feel it,” she speaks of the passion with which he makes love to her, knowing his actions speak more than any words ever could. Her hands and her body clench even firmer around him at every juncture, symbolism that she, too, could never get close enough to him.

Their chests clash, rising and falling laboriously, the water baptizing their exterior as they tend to the interior. “I just want to stay inside you forever, Sweet Savannah.”

With each powerful lingering stroke, Brody maintains his mouth directly over hers, no kisses exchanged, simply there and present adding to the tension, exchanging in guttural moans and sighs. His eyes keep hers prisoner, reading each layer of emotion, pleasure, allegiance and desperate need.

“Brody,” she whispers. Nearing her release, her eyelashes meet together.

His hand at the side of her face and wound in her hair grows firm until he peers into the irises of her dark greens once again. “Don’t shut me out. Keep ’em open, baby,” he coaxes, knowing fully well they’re about to have a breakthrough.

Savannah relinquishes the power of her uncomfortable truth locking her gaze with his, now not only seduced by his body but the warm and inviting windows to his soul. “I…” Savannah whispers through a moan, her body growing tense steals her words from her.

“You what?” he prods, bearing down on her, his steel blues pressed and pleading.

“Brody,” she battles the tender emotion, the words bubbling to the surface. Digging her nails into his back, her core contracts and releases around him, effectively milking his seed from his body.

“Aw God,” Brody groans, the precursor to his signature carnal growl. His legs growing shaky with the release, he leans tighter against her to the mirror. Her body fully relaxing and molding to his, both of them spent, the once titillating shower now completely serene. Brody traces her parted lips with the tip of his thumb, his fingers massaging the flesh at her jawline and neck. “I need to hear you say it,” his deep throaty whisper emerges.

Savannah’s eyes soften, perfectly glazed over. “I
fucking
love you,” she purrs, paying homage to his choice adjective, indicative of the profound sensation. The three little words simply not enough, require a certain magnitude.

“Ah,” a long drawn out sigh escapes him. “There it is.” His forehead rests gently against hers, his head shaking slightly, that handsome grin appearing.

Savannah puts her hand over his opening mouth. “Don’t say it, just because I did,” she lets him off the hook. “Maybe it was the heat of the moment. I
lust
you. I
love
you.” She shrugs her shoulders with a giggle comparing the two oft-confused variables. “I just felt like saying it, so I did. Wait until next time, you feel like saying it,” she backpedals.

Understanding her apprehension, a despondent Brody swallows his reciprocal sentiment. Turning off the waterfall above, he steps out of the shower, setting Savannah on the bathroom counter and covering her tranquil frame with an oversized cozy towel. Wrapping one around his waist, his strong arms firmly planted on each side of her hips, he can’t
let it go.
“You know this goes a lot deeper than lust…sex, right?”

“I know.” She strokes her hand along his ruggedly squared jaw. “I’m just trying to get a handle on everything. Make sure the feelings are real. Day by day.” She yawns, the anesthetic effect of a perfectly blissful orgasm setting in.

“Let’s get you to bed.” Brody says.

“You’re such a good man,” Savannah reflects on his attentiveness, suddenly feeling a bit unworthy.