Page 97 of Defenders of Jawhara

He stared at her. With her feet pulled up and her legs bare, she looked more like the kid he’d rescued in that parking lot five years ago. He shook his head. “I don’t want you to ever be sorry you knew me.”

“What if I end up being sorry that I never did know you? It’s been five years, Brock. I’m not that kid anymore.”

He glanced at her, his heart thudding. He couldn’t have heard her right.

She wet her lips. “Maybe we need to stop acting. Do you know I dream about that night we met sometimes? Only, in my dreams, you don’t take me to Slade. You take me back to your place. I dream about you touching me…about your hand between my legs. I get myself off, but it’s you touching me. Did you know that?”

He gave a groan, but he didn’t move away from her. He couldn’t. He’d had the same dreams—erotic fantasies about her and him in a dingy motel room, on the hood of his car, in the back of his car. He’d wanted to strip her naked that night, and he still wanted it. Well, they were adults. She knew what she was doing. With his stare locked on hers, he asked, “Want some company tonight?”

“Are you going to regret this, Brock? ’Cause I’m not going to. Not ever. But if you think this is something you can’t handle—”

Leaning forward, he shut her up with a kiss.

* * *

Keira didn’t need any other answer from him. It felt wonderful to have his mouth on hers, his lips hot and wet. His arms came around her and she gave a soft whimper. She didn’t want to break whatever spell had them both entranced.

He pulled back to rip off his shirt. Rising up onto her knees, she traced a path up his neck and along his jawline with her lips. He turned his head and came back to her. She put her hands on his skin—and traced the small lines of a white scar.

Pressing her back, he pushed a hand up under her dress. She wiggled until she was lying down. The folder she’d been looking at crinkled. She grabbed it, stuffed it under the pillow. “You’re wearing too much,” she told him.

“You’re one to talk,” he said, his voice a rumble.

He pushed away from her, yanking off his pants. She slipped out of her dress and underwear, tossing both over the side of the bed. He came back to her, naked, his body hard and bronzed. She leaned back on her forearms and spread her legs for him as he grasped his erection, giving it a squeeze. She’d been wet and ready for him, but seeing him now, she was wet and aching. She could smell her arousal and she could see his as he brushed aside a droplet of precum.

He joined her on the bed, caging her with his body and then dropping his head to take her lips in another kiss. He shifted his mouth to her breast. She gasped and said, “No second thoughts?”

Lifting his head, he smiled. “Seconds and thirds.” His voice had deepened, and it set her insides vibrating. She’d come to love how authoritative his voice could sound, and tonight was no different.

She brushed a hand through his hair—it felt like silk. “I like it longer.”

Turning his head, he nipped her palm. “And I love what you’ve done with yours. You were beautiful as a brunette, but now, you positively shine.”

Looking into his face, she saw the raw desire kindle in his eyes. Her stomach flipped.

Brock flipped them so that she straddled him. “What are you thinking so hard about?” He ran the back of his fingers down the line of her throat to her breasts. He didn’t stop there, but kept going, brushing his fingers over the slight curve of her stomach and beyond.

Keira asked on a moan as she arched into his touch, “What happens in the morning?”

“We wake up and do our job. Tonight—tonight, I want you. And I can’t walk away, Keira. Not even if this burns us.”

“Oh, I’m burning. Shut up and put out the fire, Brock.”

She dug her fingers into the sculpted muscles of his shoulders. He closed his eyes and moaned. Pushing herself up, she held herself over him.

He caught her hips. “How long has it been for you?”

Keira knew exactly what he was asking and didn’t pretend to misunderstand. She shrugged. “Too long. But you’re not just anyone, Brock. I’m on birth control and I’m clean.”

“I don’t want to hurt you; I never want to hurt you.”

“Sometimes it can’t be helped,” Keira said and lowered herself onto him. She leaned forward, her hair draping around them. Their scent mixed—his musky aroma, her arousal, and the scent of lavender from the sheets. She captured his lips in a kiss. Soft lips, she thought, hard muscles. He was so hard—so big. He filled her up, stretched her.

Raising her hips, she moved backward to feel his hardness brush against her. She groaned as pleasure swamped her. He steadied her hips. Opening her eyes, she plunged down on him again.

Brock spread his arms wide. “Do what you want with me.”

“Oh, I plan to, sailor.” She set up a rocking motion. Head thrown back, she closed her eyes. His hips started to buck under her. Sweat slicked her skin, dripping down her spine. He lifted his head and grabbed her hips. Flipping them over, he pressed her into the mattress, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He set up a pounding rhythm, and she opened to him, pleading with him to go faster and harder.

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