Free Fearless by Brynley Bush Page A

fullness of him. He repeats the cycle—circle, plunge, thrust; circle plunge thrust—until I’m certain I’m going to die if I don’t find release soon.
    â€œBeckett,” I cry. I’m desperate, helpless in my urgency.
    â€œShhh,” he soothes. “I’ve got you. Come for me baby.”
    And somehow, just like that, my body convulses around him and I scream his name. He thrusts sharply into me once more and then finds his own release, emptying himself into me as he pulls me back against his chest, our mutual orgasm shuddering through us both, binding us together.

Chapter Six
    I lean heavily against Beckett as the aftershocks of my orgasm slow and subside. I’m not sure my legs will support me. I’ve never had an orgasm like that before. With the way he can command my body and its responses, I’m starting to think he’s right— there’s something fundamental between us that would have driven us together regardless of time and space.
    â€œAre you okay?” he asks gently.
    â€œMore than okay,” I say. “Except I don’t think I can move.”
    He laughs, deep and throaty. God, I love the sound of his laugh.
    Pulling me close with an arm wrapped around my waist, Beckett turns off the water.
    â€œBut you didn’t shower,” I protest.
    â€œThat’s okay,” he says, shaking the water off his dark hair. “I want the smell of you on me as long as possible.”
    â€œOh.” Okay, that was hot.
    He opens the shower door and reaches out to grab a soft, white towel from a heated towel bar and then closes the door and begins gently toweling me off. Despite my recent orgasm, my stomach trembles as he rubs the towel in circles over it.
    He grabs another towel, wrapping it around his waist so it hangs just above his hips, and hauls me into his arms, exiting the shower.
    â€œYou can put me down,” I protest. “I’m not going to collapse.”
    â€œI’ll put you down when I want to,” he says matter-of-factly, carrying me into the bedroom where he deposits me gently on the bed. Turning, he rummages through a dresser drawer, pulling out a white t-shirt advertising a 5K benefitting cancer research.
    â€œHere. Put this on.”
    I guess it would be a little awkward to put the dress I had been wearing last night back on when he’s only wearing a towel so I accept the shirt, dropping the towel that he’d wrapped around me as I slip it over my head. I inhale deeply. It smells like fresh laundry and him. Although it hits me mid-thigh, I somehow feel naked and exposed underneath. I go into the bathroom and retrieve my thong. When I come out, he’s bare chested but wearing shorts, and my mouth waters at the sight of his hard, well-defined chest.
    He moves in front of me and kisses me, his hands reaching under the hem of the shirt to cup my bare ass.
    â€œMmmmm,” he says appreciatively. “You in my t-shirt, a thong, and nothing else. I may have to keep you like this.”
    I shudder as a little wave of desire ripples through me. The thought of hanging out with him in just a t-shirt—his t-shirt—and nothing on underneath is a huge turn on.
    â€œDo you drink coffee?” he asks.
    â€œIt’s a major food group,” I assure him, my mouth watering at the thought of a hot cup of coffee.
    I follow him into the kitchen, watching his catlike moves as he pours two steaming mugs of coffee.
    â€œHow do you take it?” he asks.
    â€œOne sugar and a splash of milk,” I say, watching as he follows my directions perfectly before handing me the cup.
    I take a sip, close my eyes, and sigh deeply. When I open them, he is studying me, his eyes hooded.
    â€œI’m not sure I like seeing that look on your face when I didn’t put it there,” he says darkly.
    The man is insatiable! “No more orgasms,” I say firmly, and this time he smiles. I let out a breath I