Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother novel Chapter 291

Falling for my boyfriend’s Navy brother

Chapter 291

She’s straddling me now.

Her knees tucked tight against the sides of my thighs, her hands braced against my chest, her hair slipping forward in

loose waves that brush over my jaw like they have a goddamn mind of their own. I haven’t even touched her yet and I’m

already losing my mind.

I slide my palms up her thighs, slow and firm, until I’m gripping her hips. She fits here. In my lap, in my arms, in every

part of my fucked–up, wrecked heart.

She raises a brow. “This is not a good idea.”

“No,” I murmur, dragging my hand around the back of her neck, threading my fingers into her hair. “It’s a great one.”

And then I kiss her.

Hard.

Messy.

Hungry.

She melts into it like she’s been waiting all damn day, one hand tangling in my shirt, the other sliding up my chest like

she’s trying to memorize the shape of me. I grip her tighter, anchoring her to me, not letting her go anywhere. Not yet.

Her hips shift slightly, just a small adjustment – but it’s enough. Enough for my brain to short–circuit when I feel the heat of her press right down against me. Through the fabric of my jeans, I can feel her. Warm. Soft. Needy.

“Penny,” I breathe, dragging my lips along the curve of her jaw. “Tell me to stop.”

She doesn’t. Just shakes her head a little, her breath stuttering as she rolls her hips once more, slower this time. I grunt,

my grip on her hips tightening.

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” I whisper.

“I haven’t even done anything yet,” she says, breathless.

Exactly. She hasn’t. And I’m already this far gone.

My hand slides under the hem of her shirt, palm flattening over the warm skin of her lower back. She arches into me,

it’s a miracle I don’t combust on the spot.

and

1/3

Chapter 291

“You don’t know what you do to me,” I mutter, dragging my mouth down her neck, letting my teeth scrape lightly at the

spot just below her ear.

She gasps. And when I feel her fingers fist in the fabric of my shirt, I push up into her, just enough to make her whimper.

I groan. “You keep making that sound and I’m not going to be responsible for what happens next.”

“Try me,” she whispers.

Dangerous words. Reckless.

God, I missed this fire in her.

I grip her waist, shifting slightly so I can press my back deeper into the seat and give her more leverage. Her breath

catches again, and I tilt her face toward mine, our foreheads nearly touching.

“Let me touch you,” I whisper.

“You already are,” she breathes.

I shake my head. “Really touch you. Let me make you feel good, right here. Right now.”

Her lashes flutter, cheeks flushed, breath hot against mine.

A beat.

Then a nod.

That’s all I need.

My hand slides up under her shirt again, this time dragging higher. I don’t rush. I don’t need to. She’s trembling against

me, her hips rolling in these subtle, needy little circles, and I can feel the heat soaking through the thin layers between us.

When my fingers brush over the soft lace of her bra, I hear the hitch in her breath

–

see the way her eyes flutter shut.

“Lift your arms, baby.”

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