Page 21 of Fast Vengeance

It made her braver. She couldn’t catch her breath, aware of the ache gathering between her thighs. Amazed that she could feel this way again after everything she’d been through. But only because it was Brock’s hands on her. His mouth on hers.

“God, you feel good,” he murmured, one hand at the back of her head, holding her still for the kiss she had no desire to pull away from. The other smoothed up her spine and down again before dipping low to wrap around her hip and pull her center tighter to his erection. Wanting more, she set her hands on his shoulders and scrambled up to straddle his thighs.

Heat coiled deep inside her the moment her denim-covered core made contact with the hard bulge in his jeans. She moaned into his mouth, letting him know she was into this, how good he was making her feel. This was what she’d needed, been hoping for. To forget everything else for a little while and simply lose herself in him.

Those big hands curved around her hips. Squeezed gently as his tongue teased hers. Testing. Asking.

Yes. More.

“So soft.” He kissed the edge of her mouth, working his way across her jaw. She gasped and closed her eyes, let her head fall to the side as his mouth nibbled to the sensitive spot beneath her ear, down her neck to the top of the turtleneck collar.

But when he reached up to pull it down, she froze, her eyes popping open, the spell she’d been under shattering like a crystal vase dropped onto a tile floor.

Out of nowhere, shame and embarrassment swamped her. She grabbed his hand to still it, ducked her chin and shook her head, a tight motion of denial. Her scars were so ugly. Humiliating. A constant reminder of what had been done to her that she would carry with her for the rest of her life.

Brock stayed exactly where he was but didn’t push her hand away, the warmth of his breath on her neck sending a wash of goosebumps over her skin. “I’ve already seen them,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to hide from me.”

Something hard and angry formed in the center of her chest. Bitterness. He had seen them, on the night she’d been rescued. But that was different. They’d been strangers then. They were far more than that now. It was bright in here, the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the window to her right. Exposing her scars to him now during this kind of intimacy—especially this scar—was distressing.

“I hate them,” she whispered back, her pulse hammering in her throat, unsure if she meant the scars themselves or the men who had locked that fucking metal collar around her neck.

She still woke up sometimes with the feel of it there, squeezing, choking her. Holding her prisoner by the chain anchored to the floor in that decaying shed while they’d done whatever they’d wanted to her on that filthy bare mattress.

She shuddered and ducked her head into his neck, clenched her eyes shut as she fought to banish the memories.

“Hey.” Brock splayed his hands across the middle of her back and pressed her close once more, angling his chin to murmur against her temple. “They don’t define you. You’re beautiful and strong and brave. Let me show you. Let me make you feel good.”

Victoria kept her eyes shut and sucked in a steadying breath, belatedly realized that she was digging her fingers into his shoulders. With effort she relaxed them, focused on his scent, the way he was holding her. Brock had seen terrible things over the course of his career. He knew about her scars and still wanted her anyway. If she stopped this now, she was admitting defeat and letting those bastards take something else from her. Letting them win.

No. No more.

Though she was afraid of continuing, she was more afraid of letting him go. Of losing this chance with someone who valued and respected her. Someone who would protect her and keep her safe.

Screwing up her courage, she allowed herself to be even more vulnerable and whispered, “Help me through this.”

SHE WAS COMPLETELY rigid in his arms as she said it.

Brock stilled, suddenly feeling out of his depth with her and this entire situation. The possessive, protective parts of him howled in outrage and agony at the way she’d been hurt. At not being able to help her let go.

He’d never felt like this about anyone before and he wanted to help give her confidence back, give her pleasure to hopefully begin replacing all the pain. A good memory to take with her into her new life. Far away from him.

The thought of never seeing her again sent an arrow of something uncomfortably close to panic through him, increasing the need to strip her right here and now, cover her and slide deep inside her warmth, claim her in a way no one else ever had or ever would again.

But that would scare the ever-loving shit out of her.

With a mental groan he fought back the hunger and possessiveness raging inside him. Maybe it was better that she not realize how into her he was. He’d meant everything he’d just said. He really did see her as all those things.

She was beautiful to him. He was in awe of her surviving what she had, and still having the strength to help the investigators secure the verdict that ensured Ruiz would die in prison.

Fuck, he wanted her so badly, wanted to erase everything in her head with pleasure. What the hell was he supposed to do? He should stop this, but the rawness of her plea ripped him up inside.

Before he could say anything else, she took him off guard by sitting up and crushing her lips to his. He groaned when she slid her tongue inside to curl around his, sucking on it for a moment before she straightened to stare into his eyes. Her breathing was erratic, a slight flush on her golden skin, her dark eyes blazing with a mixture of desire and determination that made his heart squeeze. But what she wanted was clear.

Okay, angel. He would take it from here.

“Lie down,” he managed, stealing one last kiss before wrapping his arms around her back and turning her to lay her lengthwise on the black tufted leather couch.

With one hand he grasped the back of it and pushed down until it was flat, doubling the surface area. Tori lay there watching him, her body language relaxed but her eyes telling a different story.

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