Page 32 of Fast Vengeance

Curious, she watched as he picked up his bag and walked over to set it on the bed. Then he went over to the windows and pulled the curtains shut before coming back to unzip his bag and start laying things out on the bed.

Candles, she realized with a sappy smile. He’d brought candles.

He looked over at her, his sensuous lips curving up at the corners. “I wanted this to be special. Thought it would help set the mood better if we turned off the lights and made it more romantic in here.”

She had a feeling there was more to it than him making a romantic gesture. She suspected he’d planned this because he somehow knew she would feel more comfortable with him seeing her body by flattering candlelight rather than by something harsher.

A squeezing sensation constricted her ribcage. “I love it, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Smiling to himself, he set the candles on the night table to the left of the bed and began lighting them one by one. “Can you hit the lights?”

She reached behind her and flicked the switch. The closed curtains blocked out all the daylight, leaving the room bathed in the soft glow of the flickering candles. Not too bright. Soft. Inviting.

Intimate.

And suddenly it was all she could do not to run across the room and tackle him to the bed, the mix of joy and sadness warring inside her.

A giggle shot out of her at the mental image, surprising her so much she put a hand to her mouth. Brock looked over at her, grinned. “What?”

She shook her head, grinned back. The thought of her trying to tackle the wall of muscle standing beside the bed was ridiculous. “I don’t know. But that felt good.”

He set the lighter down, cocked his head slightly and crooked a finger at her, the motion confident. Full of authority. Sexy as hell. “Come here.”

His low voice stroked over her senses like velvet. Her heart thumped as she closed the distance between them. No anxiety now. Nothing but joy and anticipation, her body heating, softening. A smile tugged at her lips.

“God I love it when you smile,” he murmured, wrapping one solid arm around her waist to draw her close, his free hand threading through her hair.

“Been a long time since I had anything to smile about. Thank you for that.” She was happier in that moment than she had been in forever. Even though her heart was breaking at knowing she was about to lose him.

His eyes darkened, then he kissed her.

Hungry to feel him, all of him, Victoria plastered herself to the front of his body and ran her hands over his shoulders. She skimmed them across the width of his back, savoring the feel of the powerful muscles beneath the soft cotton of his shirt, the possessive way he held her. The way she felt in his arms.

Sexy. Desirable, even with her scars.

Her body pulsed, her nipples hardening and an empty ache forming between her thighs. She wanted to touch his skin. Feel it against hers. She slipped her hands beneath the hem of his shirt, raked her fingers gently down his back. Imagined doing the same when he was buried inside her.

Brock groaned into her mouth and released her to reach up and grab the back of his shirt with one fist, dragging it up and over his head. As he let it drop to the floor and lowered his arms to his sides, her breath caught at the sight of him. Every dip and hollow of his muscles were bathed in the warm yellow glow of the candlelight. Her mouth went dry. Her brain stopped functioning.

With a hungry sound she set her hands on his chest, the heat of him all but searing her palms. She pressed her mouth to his breastbone between the ridges of his pecs, let her fingers wander while she rubbed her cheek against the chest, kissed his hot skin and flicked her tongue out to taste him.

His hand tangled in her hair, fingers caressing her scalp as she nuzzled and explored, the hard bulge at the front of his jeans pressing into her abdomen. Heat gathered inside her, a steady pulse of arousal. She gripped his hard butt, lifted her head to kiss him, her tongue tangling with his.

Those big hands slid up and down her back, followed the curve of her hips before reversing. They paused on her shoulder blades. He nipped at her lower lip, sucked it, his fingertips gliding over her jaw, down her neck to the scarf.

He found the knot, deftly freed it as he nibbled and teased her lips. She was distracted by the threat of him removing the scarf, barely stemmed the urge to grab his hand, stop him.

With effort, she shut her brain off. Let her eyes drift closed and allowed herself to focus on the gentle caress of the light fabric as it whispered across her skin when he pulled it free. He made a low sound of either approval or encouragement and kissed her deeper, his tongue delving in to stroke, tease.

His head lifted. She blinked dreamily, slowly coming out of her trance to find him watching her. He took a step back, the light blue scarf still in his hands, that powerful torso and arms that would fuel her fantasies for years to come on display for her.

Holding her gaze, Brock began winding the fabric around his wrists.

At first she didn’t understand what he was doing.

She watched, stunned, as he reached past her to yank the comforter down, then got on the bed. Stretched out on his back before her, still watching her, he raised his arms over his head to grasp the headboard.

Victoria stopped breathing as she realized what he was doing, the sight of him too erotic for words.

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