LITMIR.BIZ

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“I’m going to go easy, but you need to tell me if anything is too much.”

      He shifted away from her for a moment and dug in the bedside drawer. His hot palms caressed her ass, easing any remaining nerves before he smoothed cool gel over the sensitive opening. She shivered, the chill of the lubricant and the sharp snap of pleasure from his touch a luscious combination.

      “You look so fucking sexy all spread and waiting for me,” he said as he eased a well-lubricated finger past the tight ring of muscle and his other hand continued to work her clit.

      “Holy shit.” Her hands gripped the sheets, the intense sensation instantly pushing her closer to orgasm. “That’s… oh, wow.”

      “Don’t come yet, love,” he said, gently pushing a second finger in, readying her. “Not until I get a chance to bury myself inside this sweet little ass.”

      She squirmed beneath his pleasurable assault, using all of her strength not to give in to the seductive call of release. “Please, Reid. Now.”

      He groaned and shifted behind her. “I don’t want to hurt you, sugar.”

      Sweat dripped down her neck. “I’ll tell you if you do, just please, I need more. I need you.”

      Swiftly, he removed his fingers, and added more lubrication to her and then to himself. As his other hand stroked her pussy, he placed the tip of his cock against her snug opening. “Okay, beautiful. Push out while I ease in. It will help.”

      She followed his directive, and the blunt head strained against the tight muscles. Oh, God. She wanted him inside her so badly, but her body seemed to be fighting against it.

      “Relax, sugar. Focus on letting me in.”

      Taking a deep breath, she tried to relax the resistant muscles and pushed back against him. With a deep groan from him and a sharp cry from her, he slipped past the resistance and sent her into a dizzying space of sensual awareness. Every molecule of her existence seemed to light up with edgy pleasure.

      His leg muscles tensed and quivered against the backs of her thighs as he held himself still inside her. “Christ, you feel good.”

      “Move,” she begged, rocking backward. “I can’t… I need…”

      He began to slowly slide back and forth against the sensitive tissues, filling her in a way she’d never imagined, chasing every hint of dark memory from her system.

      He pressed his forehead against her shoulder blade, words of adoration tumbling from his lips as he made love to her. But language had stopped making sense. All that was left was overwhelming awareness and rocketing pleasure. Salty tears and sweat touched her lips, and her nails grappled for a grip on the mattress as she raced toward oblivion. A desperate plea scraped across her vocal cords. “Reid!”

      With a growl for her to come, Reid’s pace turned urgent, and he sunk his teeth into the fleshy curve of her shoulder, putting his own brand over the one that monster had left. Her sensory system went into overload, and a scream that didn’t even sound human rattled her throat. Her orgasm exploded behind her eyelids in a thousand bits of pulsing light.

      Reid’s voice joined the primal chorus as his own climax overtook him, releasing his liquid heat deep within her. Marking her as his.

      Utterly and completely his.

      After the room turned quiet and their heartbeats slowed, Reid eased off the bed and lifted her boneless body into his arms. She knew she should probably say something. Thank you. I love you. You fucking rock. Something. But she was too drained to even part her lips. Instead, she just let her head rest against his good shoulder as he carried her in to the bathroom and set her on the bench in the shower.

      He turned on the water and climbed in with her, letting the warm water soothe their abused senses. With quiet tenderness he soaped her, washed her hair, and wiped off her tear-streaked makeup. “You okay, sugar?”

      She mustered a lazy smile. “Perfect.”

      “Yeah, you are.” He tugged on one of her wet locks.

      She laced her fingers with his and kissed his soapy knuckles. “No, this is.”

EPILOGUE

      Brynn found a parking spot across the street from the Jamison mansion and shut off the engine, her Honda as out of place in the neighborhood as she was. “Well, we’re here.”

      Reid smirked at her from the passenger seat. “Yeah, I noticed. What now?”

      “I have no idea.” She took one last lingering look at the papers on her dashboard, still not believing the words, then climbed out of the car.

      She removed her sunglasses and set them on top of her head, turning her attention to the estate. Not much had changed since she’d visited ten years ago. It was still as breathtaking as she ­remembered.

      And now it was hers—well, half hers.

      Patrick Jamison had never been a father to her and never would be. But what he did know how to do was throw money at situations to alleviate his guilt. When he’d found out about what Roslyn and Davis had done, he’d signed over the house to Brynn and Reid as an I’m sorry and had taken off to his beach condo to escape the glare of the media. So now, here she was, part owner of a house that probably cost more than she’d ever make in a lifetime of social work.

      The plantation-style home didn’t have the proverbial white-picket fence, but in all other respects, it was the kind of house Brynn had dreamed of growing up in. All her life, she’d imagined that behind those manicured gardens laid equally manicured families. Families who ate dinner together, parents who loved each other and worked at normal jobs, kids who didn’t have to wonder if their mother would make it home at night.

      She’d sworn to herself that one day, she’d create one of those perfect families, create normalcy. Ensure happiness through putting all the right puzzle pieces in place. Now she had the house to do it in. But after the events of the last few weeks, she’d realized it was all an illusion. There were no perfect families. No Leave-It-To-Beaver households. Behind the pretty columns and rosebushes of the Jamison house had lived a cheating husband and a cold-blooded killer. Deadly secrets covered with the shiny wrapping paper of wealth.

      She uncurled her fist and stared at the house key in her palm.

      The dream she’d sought all her life had been a false one. She could walk into that beautiful home, fill it with pretty things and find a polite husband who played by the rules. Meet lovely neighbors, attend their lovely parties, play with their lovely children. Be on the other side of envy for a change.

      And be completely, out-of-her-mind miserable.

      She tossed the key to Reid as he came around from the passenger side. “What the hell are we going to do with this thing?”

      Reid chuckled. “Not your style, huh?”

      She leaned against the hood of the car, eyeballing the ridiculous garden statues. “Hardly. What about you? I know you’re used to living the high life, Prince Jamison.”

      He snorted. “Believe me, I’ve seen enough of this house to last me a few lifetimes. And I don’t want all this. I’m a simple man with simple tastes.”

      She rolled her eyes. Reid was a lot of things, but simple would never make the list. “Liar.”

      “No, I’m serious.” He stopped in front of her and placed his hands on the car, caging her in. “All I need in a home is a big-screen TV, comfortable furniture, and a beautiful woman—preferably you, preferably naked—to keep me company.”

      She laughed. “Is that right? So if I suggested we sell this gaudy thing and buy a house a third its size in a neighborhood without a gate, you’d be cool with that?”

      He gave her lips a playful nip. “Have

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