As the Dawn Breaks (17 page)

“Bry, Br…sweethe, I—”

“J,” I grunt, “English, baby.”

“I’m gonna…so close, Bryce!” she screams, her pitch deepening to a low, constant hum rumbling from her chest as she starts to quiver, coming on me…
for
me.

“Got you, babe.” I firm my hold on her hips and thrust manically, up into the snug clutch of her heat like a man crazed. My eyes roll back in my head as I join her in an explosive, harmonious release.

Adrift in peace that only she provides—sated, sweaty, and…happy—I hold her to me with relentless force, never wanting to let go. Her mouth puckers and blows out tiny puffs of air on my skin as she sleeps, but I battle against the same, wanting to bask in this afterglow of true contentment as long as possible.

She rustles, opening drowsy eyes that smile when they find mine. “I need to get up.”

“Why?” I squeeze her tighter.

She giggles and kisses my lips softly. “I live here, so I’m not escaping, frowny-face. I need to use the bathroom.” She wrestles out from underneath my hold, stretching her arm to the chair beside the bed. Sitting up on the edge, she slips on a satin robe before standing.

“Why are you covering up that body, babe? I was already hard waiting to watch you go,” I tease…except not at all teasing.

“What?” She glances over her shoulder with a sassy grin. “You don’t like it?” She looks at her silky attire and runs her hands over the robe enticingly. “I’ll have you know, I’ve been told pink is
my color
.” Her mouth turns down subtly the second the words escape; a faraway sadness ghosting across her eyes for a fleeting second before she quickly dismisses the thought away and fakes a smile.

A surge of nausea consumes me, a shiver elicited with the chill that creeps up my spine, the unfair devil of irony dousing me in frigid shame and guilt.

It’s her—
my
Jocelyn—was Devon’s…fascination, his ‘I hope she feels the same.’

I just made love to the woman my little brother never even got a chance to ask on a date.

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