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BB chuckled. “Yeah. My mom can get deep sometimes. It still didn’t make sense to me, but she told me something that did. She said you can’t go looking for it because it’s not something to find. It’s something that happens. It can’t be forced because if it is, it’s too weak to last. It has to be fate bringing the right two people together and time strengthening the bond. There’s no shortcut around it.”
“And you’ve never felt that connection with someone?”
“I’ve never felt that with anyone I’ve ever dated before.”
Gennessey sighed. “Do you think you ever will?”
“Hell, yeah. Without question.”
She felt a pang in her chest but pushed past it, needing to bring levity to the intense moment. “Well, I hope I get to see it. I want to meet the woman who brings down the great Brennan Beckett.”
“You will.”
Something about those two little words and the way he said them with all the confidence of a man who knows what he wants made her think there was a hidden meaning she was missing. Like he figured something out she had yet to realize. The notion was unsettling.
“I can’t figure you out,” she murmured.
“What’s there to figure out? I think I’ve been an open book when it comes to you.”
She shook her head, her hair tangling against his arm. “I can’t tell which is real. The guy who can have any woman he wants with just a flash of his dimple. Or the guy who dreams of finding his own love magic.”
“Maybe I’m the guy who knows a good thing when he finds it.”
His arm curled just enough to roll her closer to this side, and Gennessey’s breath hitched. Panic gripped her heart, forcing it to beat erratically.
She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. “I’m not her.”
“You’re not who?”
“I’m not her. I’m not the one fate connected to you.” Her words sounded frantic even as they rang false to her own ears.
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”
She knew what was happening even before he shifted his body toward her. She expected his head to lower closer to her own before it did. She sensed he would hesitate to give her time to say no or to pull away or to do anything to show this wasn’t what she wanted. She knew, before she ever made a move, that she would answer the unspoken question by placing her hand at the back of his head and pulling him down the rest of the way.
His lips brushed hers in the faintest hint of a kiss. They moved against hers in a soft caress, making her body ache. The butterfly kisses continued, one right after the other, gentle, sweet, mind blowing.
She didn’t want them to stop. Her body screamed for more. She’d been too afraid to allow herself to touch BB in this way, but now that she had and she knew the feel of his mouth against hers, the warmth of his body searing through her clothes, the strength of his arms as they held her like she was something precious, she craved much, much more.
With a nudge that held no power against the solid strength of his body, she pushed him to his back. Or rather he let her push him to his back. She rose to swing one leg over his body until she straddled him. She fit him perfectly, her thighs against his thighs, her core resting against his crotch, her hand splayed over his hard, chiseled chest.
When his hands rested at her hips, holding her in place with tender pressure, she lowered herself down until her breasts pressed against his chest. Then her lips found his, her tongue licking the seam of his lips until they parted.
God, she was an idiot!
She had feared BB wielded the power to wreck her, and this kiss told her she had been right. But she was an idiot for allowing that to keep her from kissing him. Because, oh my God! The kiss was too delectable for her to never have experienced.
His lips were the softest she’d felt in her life, and all she wanted to do was keep her mouth fused to his. Their tongues tangled, and she grew dizzy from the taste of him. He tasted of sex and masculinity — if those could describe how a person tasted — and if she could figure out how to bottle the intoxicating taste, she could make a fortune.
The kiss started easy and tender. She barely registered his hands tightening their grip on her hips. Instead, she tilted her head just a bit, but it was enough for him to do what she’d hoped he’d do. He deepened the kiss until it was hot and lustful. Her skin burned from its intensity, and she felt a delicious tingle between her legs.
Arching her hips, she brushed her core against his zipper, sucking his sharp intake of breath into her mouth. Her fingers curled into the material of his shirt, needing to hold to him to stay steady. If she slipped off of him and broke their kiss, she would regret it. She felt that certainty all the way to her bones.
Suddenly, the kiss wasn’t enough. Once she felt steadier, she slid her hands along his ribs until they could snake under his shirt. Her fingers explored the hard planes of his muscles, her fingertips burning from the contact.
He was solid and strong, and she could spend days or even weeks exploring the ridges of his stomach and chest. Her hands then slid down to the waistband of his jeans, dipping underneath it to trace the vee leading to his cock.
His hands covered hers, and she could hardly believe he moved them away. She reluctantly broke the kiss, her breathing coming in hard, sharp pants. Her eyes watched him, questioned him, but he, too, needed a moment to catch his breath.
