Fire and Flame (16 page)

Brent ducked out of her reach. Her eyes flipped open when his fingers slipped into her waistband. He knelt at her feet. Green eyes gazed along her quivering skin. The dare in his bold expression was obvious.

Be a coward
, he said without words.
Run from
this
conflict
.

Sara held her breath. She could take hold of the doorknob directly beside her. She could run. And after he’d been with Vanessa several times, she should. But she’d only be trembling with the need he’d awoken and terribly furious with herself for missing out.

Sara exhaled the breath she’d held in a shaking gush. She pushed the elastic waistband of her knit shorts over her hips before she could change her mind. They fell to her ankles with a dull thud.

Brent drew in a ragged, startled breath. He continued to hold her gaze. The dare in them faded into something softer, something a lot like vulnerability. But Brenton Conley had never been vulnerable a day in his life.

Carefully, as if he thought he might frighten her, he lifted his hand to the front of her panties. Gently he set it on her mons, perhaps testing her willingness to go through with what they’d begun. After their aggressive start, Sara grew uncomfortable with his shift into caution. Perhaps he needed a little push.

“What’s the matter,” she whispered in a harsh tone meant to be derisive. “Afraid to dirty the princess?”

Brent’s eyes flashed evergreen at her challenge. And then he fastened his mouth to the cleft her panties covered. Sara’s breath hitched from the moist heat over her most sensitive parts. When his tongue slid wickedly along the light cotton, her temperature shot into dangerous territory. Soon she writhed beneath his mouth. Moans escaped her too fast to stifle.

Sara needed more, more he wasn’t giving her. She was nearly mindless from the throbbing. Her fingers dug into his scalp in urging motions that went ignored.

“Brent,” she begged without understanding what it would mean for them both if they went further.

Roughly he shoved the drenched cotton aside then ruthlessly slashed his tongue within her heated core. Sara slumped against the door, hardly able to hold herself upright. What should have soothed the throbbing had only increased it.

“Brent,” she heard herself whimper the roughened plea.

He let out a moan in return. Then he stood. The vulnerability she’d seen earlier was back, filling his green gaze with an aching sadness. Sara exhaled a ragged sigh.

She grabbed hold of his shoulders, hauling him closer. The slackened jaw that met her lips hinted he was startled she’d kissed him. Sara didn’t care that the smoky taste on his tongue was from her as long as he finished what had been started.

Perhaps it had bothered him. His body was stiff and unyielding for several seconds. But once Sara gently prodded him onward with a slide of her tongue through his lips, Brent’s body melted against hers. He was hard, blazing, and ready beneath his vinyl shorts. Shamelessly she rubbed against him to ease the unceasing ache. A nearly pained whimper emitted from his chest.

Sara dragged her mouth from his long enough to whisper, “Please,” before she kissed him with needy slides of her tongue meant to show him what he was supposed to be doing to her.

It took several seconds of determined kissing before Brent’s hands went to his shorts. They curled around her hips only to find she was still wearing panties. With a fumble, he tugged at the thin cotton without breaking the kiss. Soon the fabric tangled up at her knees. His palms formed around her hips once more.

With one smooth thrust, Brent buried his heat deep within hers. Sara turned her head to inhale a startled gasp of fresh air.

“Did that hurt?” he quietly asked against her cheek.

“No,” she quickly replied. “No. Don’t stop.”

Though she’d assured him it hadn’t hurt, Brent withdrew with slow care. He slid in with a leisurely motion that made them both moan. Sara dug her fingernails into his shoulders as he pulled out again. She wanted his warmth in her again, faster.

Sara hadn’t comprehended what the vanilla humans she’d been with had meant when they’d said she was so hot it was almost uncomfortable. But with Brent they were both hot. And it wasn’t the slightest bit uncomfortable. No, this was how it was supposed to be.

The more her fingernails dug, the faster Brent thrust. She worked out the pattern quickly and then used it to her advantage. Repeatedly he impaled her against the heavy wood. And repeatedly she gasped from the feel of him filling her, of the desire that washed up her insides waking her every nerve.

Her eyes rolled up into her head a final time as her body reached the fever pitch. Skin aflame, brain mindless, and muscles going slack were the precursors to the finale. One last thrust sent Sara to the peak. She felt as if she’d exploded into glorious blue fire that had surely engulfed the entire office. Brent shuddered against her, bellowing his pleasure for the entire house to hear.

Somehow, while they trembled from the lingering shocks of pleasure, they ended up on the carpet together. Sara didn’t try to move, knew she couldn’t if she’d wanted to. Brent’s body was damp and surprisingly heavy atop her. Even if he hadn’t weighed her down, her muscles were simply too weak to do anything but rest.

Nothing had ever been that good. Would it always be like that with a Fire witch? Or had part of it been because of who it had been with?

Sara turned her head away, resolving not to think about it now.

Chapter Twenty

By the Phoenix, she really
did
kiss like an angel. Those feather-soft brushes of her tongue had been Brent’s undoing. But tangled in her limbs he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

Sex with Sara McKenna had been everything he’d dreamed it would be. And more.

Goosebumps cascaded over his arms even thinking of what had happened between them. She’d been angry and demanding and needy and sexy—so sexy. Phoenix, he’d never be happy with anyone else.

This was what he’d feared would happen. There’d be no waiting until tomorrow to decide if he’d gotten her out of his system. He already knew. One night with Sara had burnt an indelible scar on his heart.

If he’d thought he could move, he would have carried her to her pristine bed where they could lay together in her beautiful scent. Hell, he wouldn’t be able to make it to
his
bed without falling. She’d taken that much out of him.

Brent nearly laughed aloud when he recalled what had started this all. She’d punched him. By the Phoenix, it had
hurt.
He’d have a black eye in the morning.

He was proud of her. Though she hadn’t used any magic, she’d given into the aggression she’d felt. His pride had little to do with her show of aggression. Pride came at the knowledge that though Sara was as volatile as any other Fire witch, she’d managed to control her emotions all these years. He respected her for it.

Now he had to teach her how to defend herself and that reacting violently in self-defense wouldn’t morally bankrupt her.

Brent gently rolled to the side. He couldn’t help but look at her. She was sprawled on the carpet with her hand resting beside her head. Her long honey mane was tousled around her beautifully flushed face with several pieces stuck to her damp cheeks and forehead. It was easy to look at her now with her eyes gently shut.

He allowed himself to gaze at what he’d never before been allowed to see. His eyes lowered beneath her neck. The sheen of sweat coated her pert little breasts. A wave of hot fire washed over him from the image of her dusky nipples thrust up for his pleasure. Shame pricked at him at the sight of the tank top bunched around her tiny waist. Sara deserved to be loved properly rather than frantically up against the door. By Phoenix, he’d taken her in her father’s office! If Fintan were alive…

What? What would Fintan have said? He’d written it into his will that they should do their duty together. But Brent was certain it wouldn’t have taken place on a cold wooden surface had his mentor been alive to arrange it.

Brent’s gaze roved lower. His breath exhaled in a silent groan when they passed over the golden crop of hair at the junction of her thighs. It was almost all he could do not to caress her.

Sara was every inch a princess. And he’d dirtied her just as she’d taunted.

****

The carpet had begun to itch Sara’s back when Brent shifted his pose beside her. Her cheeks flushed with warmth when his fingers began the delicate task of fixing her tank top. She took over the job from him because it simply felt too intimate for him to dress her.

With his hands free for other things, Brent chose to stand. Sara didn’t open her eyes to see why. The explanation soon became apparent when he tried to slip her panties over her feet. After a groan, Sara forced herself into a seated position so she could dress herself.

Brent’s shirt and hair appeared rumpled and the sheen on his skin proved he’d gotten as sweaty as she had. However, no one looking at him would have guessed what he’d recently been doing. She was glad for it.

Sara fixed her panties around her hips then tugged up her shorts while avoiding his probing gaze. She was clammy and in need of a shower. And she needed some time to herself to evaluate what had happened.

Brent startled her when he lifted her into his arms. She opened her mouth to tell him to put her down but he’d already made it to the door. Demanding he release her now would only wake the other witches in the house. Sara would be far less mortified if she could get away with no one knowing what had happened.

He took the stairs at an alarming rate. Sara found herself grabbing hold of his neck tightly to keep from being dropped. Without needing to see the doorknob, Brent easily twisted it then walked them both inside. Swift strides across the room saw him to the bed within a half a second. Carefully he set her atop the crumpled bedclothes.

And then he kissed her.

Sara’s entire body went still as his lips feathered over hers. Without a word Brent lifted himself upright, pulling his surprisingly soft lips away, and then he started for the door. She stared in shock as he left in silence.

What had she expected?

Certainly not a kiss. That complicated matters. An act that had merely satisfied a need he’d awoken now felt…serious. But how serious could it be if he’d not spoken a word? And why was she alternately annoyed he’d simply left her and afraid he would come back?

Sara was no closer to an answer when she fell asleep ten minutes later.

****

Even after several hours rest and a shower, Sara was still embarrassed to show her face downstairs. She didn’t like being someone’s conquest. Especially not when that someone lived in her home. Or when his best friends could be witnesses.

But she was hungry. It was nearly noon, far past time for her to put in an appearance before a witch was sent up the stairs to make sure she hadn’t died overnight.

Quietly she opened the door, peering down to see who was on duty. The staircase was empty. Though it seemed odd, she assumed whoever was guarding her had fallen asleep in the chair beside the stairs again.

Sara took them with soft steps, glancing aside as she neared the bottom. The chair was empty but someone was asleep on the leather sofa across the room. Colin? The pillow over the witch’s head made it difficult to tell.

Rumbling in her tummy sent her hurrying for the kitchen rather than linger to learn the identity of the snoozing witch. Someone stood against the sink holding a newspaper wide in front of their face. Thick fingers hinted it was a male. Sara’s heart skipped a beat. But the hips were too wide to be Brent. It had to be Derrick.

Murmuring a greeting, she went straight for the pantry to verify what she’d feared. There were no more boxes of cereal. She’d have to go out.

On the assumption Derrick was her babysitter this morning, she addressed him from the dining room entrance. “I have to go to the store because there’s no more cereal. Do I get to go by myself or what?”

“Or what,” he replied without pulling down the Sunday paper.

Sara inhaled an irritated breath at his rudeness. The paper rustled when she started for the stairs. Quick but heavy footsteps trailed her.

Brent must have warned them that Sara had been known to escape out the front door. And this time Derrick was actually going to play guard instead of relaxing in the kitchen.

After grabbing her purse and keys, she returned downstairs, avoiding the witch blocking the front door. She’d go out the kitchen because it would be quieter for whoever was asleep on the sofa.

As she’d feared, Derrick followed close behind. He headed her off at the driver’s door instead of going to the passenger side. He held out an empty palm.

Sara stared at him. “What?”

“Gimme the keys.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Why? It’s my car.”

The dark-haired male shrugged his broad shoulders. “Comes with the protection gig.”

“You didn’t drive Vanessa.”

Derrick gave her a sideways look that made Sara flush. She’d admitted she’d seen them arrive.

“I’m not protecting Vanessa,” Derrick replied. “Gimme the keys.”

Then he and Vanessa were dating again…while Vanessa was having sex with Brent. She’d never understand her race. Sara tossed the keys at Derrick, and then stomped around the Lexus. He had the thing on and in gear by the time she’d pulled her seatbelt over her torso.

Derrick did some vehicular acrobatics to get them out of the driveway because Perry’s car had boxed them in. It was a good thing the grass on the side lawn already featured plenty of tread marks. The handsome witch fiddled with her radio, messing with her stations. He stopped when he’d located a particularly offensive country station. His voice soon filled the cabin as he sang along complete with a ridiculous affected twang.

How had she ever managed to crush on him? If she’d done more than stare at Derrick from afar, she’d have known he was a jerk with bad taste in nearly everything.