Page 23 of Fast Vengeance

Sick at the thought that he’d scared her, he immediately grabbed a throw blanket from the chair beside the couch and handed it to her. Tori wrapped it around her body, covering herself, and sat up, not looking at him.

“Hey.” Scooting to his knees in front of her now, he cupped her cheek, bringing her gaze to his. “You all right?”

She huffed out a frustrated breath and nodded. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

“Don’t apologize. Hell, I should be the one apologizing.”

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong.” She reached up to grasp his hand, threaded her fingers through his and pressed her cheek to their joined hands. “It all felt really good. I’m not sure what went wrong.”

What was wrong was this whole damn setup. Her forcing it before she was ready. The clock being against them. “Tell me what you need.” His voice was a deep rasp.

“I think it was the position maybe. Me on my back and you…”

Him acting like a sex-starved guy who couldn’t wait to dive between her thighs. God. This hadn’t gone at all the way he’d hoped. Worse, he’d let her down. He hated that most of all.

Chiming bells echoed through the room. Tori’s head snapped toward the kitchen. “It’s my phone alarm. I set it for ten minutes before six.”

They were out of time. God dammit, now he’d left her hanging on top of everything else. “I’m sorry.”

Her expression turned sad, tender. “No. Brock, I swear it’s not you. Trust me, you did everything right.”

If that were true, she would be coming against his tongue right now instead of wrapped up in a blanket trying to explain herself.

“It’s me,” she whispered. “Maybe I’m…broken.”

“You’re not broken,” he protested, unable to hide the heat in his tone.

“Well. I’d better get dressed.” Holding the blanket around her with one hand, she reached down to gather her clothes.

Frustrated, wishing he could do this all over again, he didn’t know what to do or say to make it better. So he handed back her panties and jeans and got up to get her a bottle of water. She met him in the kitchen, took it with a murmur of thanks and drained half the bottle.

He gently gathered her into his arms, needing to hold her. “Maybe it’s because of the time limit. Too much pressure.”

“Maybe.” She didn’t sound convinced.

Brock hugged her close and kissed her temple, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. The position had triggered something. Her on her back. A feeling of helplessness, likely.

If this was going to work for her, he needed to do something to shift the balance and give her what she needed. She had to be the one calling the shots. Next time—if there was a next time—he was going to have to go way outside of his comfort zone and hand her the reins. She would have to be on top. In control. And shit, with her the idea was insanely hot.

“Hope this hasn’t changed your mind,” she said finally.

He frowned. “About?”

“About…helping me still.”

He closed his eyes, unsure if he really deserved another shot. “You sure you want to do this again?”

“Yes.” Her phone chimed in her purse. She glanced at it. “My detail is on the way up.” She started for the door.

He stopped her, refrained from caging her against it the way he wanted and settled for grasping her hips. Those dark eyes flashed up to his, and he was relieved to see no fear there. Just a deep loneliness that he ached to erase. “Saturday night. Are you busy?”

She gave a sardonic laugh. “Uh, no.”

“Come spend it with me.” He pushed a lock of hair away from her face.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Yes. But the deal is, you have to stay the night with me.”

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