Free Healing Beau (The Brothers of Beauford Bend Book 6) by Alicia Hunter Pace Page A

You still deserve not to hurt. You still deserve to have joy. And I’ve not seen any of that in you lately. If I could see some real happiness in your eyes, it would be the best Christmas present ever.”
    “Would it?” His expression turned intense, but a little smile played with his mouth. “Would that really be a good Christmas present?”
    She didn’t see it coming, didn’t feel it coming, had no idea where it came from.
    But all of a sudden, she was in Beau’s arms and his mouth was on hers, exactly like she’d dreamed a million times.
    No. It was better than she’d dreamed. In her dreams, she hadn’t known he would smell like cedar and taste like nutmeg, hadn’t known he’d tease her lips open and draw her tongue into his mouth.
    She would have imagined that in such a moment, her knees would go weak and she would become pasty, passive, putty at his mercy. But no. A volcano erupted within her, sending energy-charged lava to all parts of her body, vitalizing her and making her a match for this man. When that energy settled and concentrated between her thighs, she became aware of his erection pressing there, making a promise to fulfill a wish she’d had all her life.
    It wasn’t a promise she was going to let slip away. She would probably never have another chance.
    Should she tell him? Tell him she was a virgin? She’d tried to take care of that pesky little problem—had even come close a couple of times—but, at the last minute, had never been able to close the deal because Beau’s face would invade and take her out of the moment. No. She wouldn’t tell him. He might stop, would probably go running for Beauford Bend at the thought of a twenty-eight-year-old who hadn’t been able to do this one, basic thing. Anyway, he’d know soon enough, probably. At least that’s what she’d heard. But by then it would be too late. She would have already had her moment.
    He didn’t break the kiss, but continued to caress her tongue with his, as his penis rose harder and larger against her. Then he placed a hand on her hip and ran it up her side underneath her sweater. The delicious feel of his cold hand on her warm body turned her skin to gooseflesh and gave the raging blaze between her legs new power and a life of its own.
    She wished he’d press harder there.
    But wait. She’d been wishing all her life for him to do so many things—wishing and waiting. She was done with that; it was time for action. She grabbed his bottom with both hands, slammed him into her, and began to blatantly slide her pelvis against his rock hard penis. Up and down, back and forth, harder each time. He broke the kiss and cried out with maybe surprise, maybe pleasure, hopefully both.
    He seized her bottom, pulled her in closer, and said again her ear, “I want you, Christian. I want you so damned bad. I thought I was going to bend you over and take you right there on that couch in front of the Christmas tree, Santa Claus, and my family.”
     
He wanted her.
    Then he took charge. He buried his face in her neck, unzipped her pants, and reached inside her panties.
    “Wet. You’re so wet.” His voice was raspy. “Come on.” As he took her hand, he looked deep in her eyes. She saw something there she’d never seen in any man’s eyes, yet she recognized it for what it was—intense, pure desire and need.
    It felt good to be needed, better to be desired.
    Christian expected him to lead her to her bedroom, but instead he took her to his—the same room that had been hers before her mother moved to Florida. That seemed so right. He wanted her, so he was taking her to the place that was his, but it was the same room where she had ached for him for so many years.
    Now she knew a different kind of ache.
    It was almost as if Beau knew she would be embarrassed if she were the only one naked in the room. After one last kiss, he threw the covers back and eased her down on the bed. “Lie there. I want to undress you myself.”
    And then the