Page 45 of Brick's Retribution

"Now it's complicated," I say.

She moves closer, close enough that I can see the gold flecks in her dark eyes. "Complicated how?"

"Imani..." I start, but she's standing right in front of me now, her hand coming up to rest on my chest.

"Tell me," she says softly.

The words get caught in my throat as her fingers trace over the fabric of my shirt.

Every nerve ending where she touches feels like it's on fire.

This is dangerous, but I can't seem to care about the risks right now.

"You make me want things I have no business wanting," I admit roughly.

Her lips curve into a small smile. "Such as?"

Instead of answering with words, I cup her face in my hands, my thumb tracing the elegant line of her cheekbone.

Her skin is soft as silk, warmed by the desert sun.

She leans into the touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

When she opens them again, the heat I see there nearly undoes me.

"Brick," she whispers, and hearing my name on her lips in that breathless tone breaks whatever restraint I was clinging to.

I lower my head slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wants to.

But she doesn't move—instead, she rises on her toes to meet me halfway.

The kiss starts soft, tentative, a question asked and answered.

But the moment her lips part under mine, something ignites between us.

My hands slide into her hair, tilting her head back as I deepen the kiss.

She tastes like danger and desire, like everything I've ever wanted and shouldn't have.

Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer as she kisses me back with a hunger that matches my own.

Years of walls and control crumble under the assault of her mouth, her body pressed against mine.

I back her against the wall, my mouth leaving hers to trail down the column of her throat.

She makes a small sound—part gasp, part moan—that goes straight to my head like the finest tequila.

"We shouldn't," she breathes, even as her head falls back to give me better access.

"I know," I murmur against her skin, tasting the salt and sweetness of her. "Tell me to stop."

Her hands slide up to grip my shoulders. "I can't."

The honesty in her voice, the admission that she's as lost in this as I am, makes me lift my head to look at her.

Her lips are swollen from our kiss, her eyes dark with desire, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

She's beautiful.

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