Taking the Heat (6 page)

“I’m not hungry.”

“I decided you are. Eat.”

Brian cursed under his breath.

“I knew what I wanted, Bri—
you.
I knew there wasn’t another man in the world for me. I didn’t want to check out the scenery or waste time that could be spent with you.”

“Then why did you leave?” Keeping one hand on the wheel, he used his teeth to rip the foil wrapping off the burrito.

“You know why.”

“And you knew what I did for a living when we started.”

“You lied to me when you joined the Marshals Service.”

“Bullshit.”

“You never said anything about volunteering for the Shadow Stalkers!” She tore a chunk out of the burrito with violent gusto.

“I was qualified.”

She chewed angrily, then washed down her food with a large swallow of coffee. “You were also qualified as a security expert.”

He put the burrito down. Starting his own firm had been a dream he’d shared with Jacob. After his best friend died, Brian felt as if the dream had died, too. He couldn’t imagine going forward with the endeavor without Jacob on board. “Things changed.”

“
You
didn’t. You’re an adrenaline junkie with a hero complex.”

“And a big dick,” he lashed out, stung. “Don’t forget that.”

Her gaze bore into him. “Truth hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Your pussy doesn’t seem to mind.”

She flipped him off and resumed eating, canting her body toward the window.

He’d wanted to at least have a dialogue about his work with the Marshals Service Special Operations Group before she tossed out her ultimatum, but she’d said the discussion should have been held
before
he volunteered for SOG and she wasn’t staying with a guy who had a death wish.

“What about
your
painful truths, Layla? Your fear of abandonment kept you from trusting me. You were always laying out ultimatums, with the proof of whether or not I loved you hanging in the balance. You were always waiting for some excuse to say I wasn’t going to stick around after all.”

“And you gave it to me, didn’t you?”

“Look for something hard enough, you find it, whether it’s really there or not.”

Shrugging, she said, “People have baggage. When you love someone, you deal with it.”

“I was dealing with yours. You’re the one who couldn’t deal with mine.”

“You know what?” Layla pivoted on the seat to face him. “I don’t know why we’re talking about this. It really boils down to the fact that our personal issues conflict. What you require to be happy is exactly what makes me unhappy and vice versa.”

“And the fact that I need you and you need me?” he challenged. “What about that?”

“What about it? In forty-eight hours or so, I’m going to disappear and you’re going to face whatever the hell you’re going to face for going rogue with a witness.” With a sigh, she faced forward again. “We’ve been trumped by fate, Bri. Consider it a blessing. God knows we’re too stupid to stay away from something that’ll never work.”

Maybe, he thought savagely. But stupid or not, he wasn’t giving her up again without a fight.

T
hey holed up for the night in Joplin, Missouri. The motel Brian chose was cheap and in need of serious updating, but Layla was so relieved to get off her ass that she didn’t care. She stumbled into the room and collapsed on the bed face-first, pointing her toes to stretch out her legs.

She heard Brian bring the suitcases in and sighed with gratitude, eager to take a hot shower.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asked, his hand wrapping around her ankle and squeezing.

“A salad with grilled chicken or fish. Nothing fried. I can’t keep eating crap while sitting on my butt all day. I’m starting to feel icky.”

“Good call. I’ll be back in a bit. You know the drill.”

“Yes. Don’t answer a knock at the door, even if it’s you.”

He closed the drapes before leaving the room and Layla crawled off the bed. She repeated her preparations from the night before, wondering as she pulled out another disposable razor if Brian was thinking at all about the box of condoms they’d left in the trash in the other motel.

Condoms were something they’d never used. She’d always been on the pill and they’d both been too addicted to the feeling of total connection to put a barrier between them, not to mention how spontaneous they were. He probably thought she was still on birth control.

She wasn’t. What was the point when she wasn’t having sex?

Remembering his assertion that he’d been celibate since they broke up, Layla felt a surge of guilt. She’d taken lovers after they’d broken up. Enough to prove what she had always suspected—no other man would ever make her feel like Brian did. She’d found men who were similarly attractive, men who had dark and ravenous appetites, men with experience and the patience to make sure she had a good time. But sex was just sex without love, no matter how good it was. She’d never gotten over the feeling that she was in bed with the wrong guy.

She took a long, leisurely shower. She shaved her legs smooth and rubbed the motel’s complimentary lotion into her skin. Anticipation thrummed through her veins, along with the steady flow of adrenaline brought on by their circumstances and the desperation of knowing they were only two days away from losing each other again.

When she left the bathroom, she found Brian sprawled on the bed in just his jeans. He’d freed the buttons on his fly and sat with his back against the headboard and his bare feet crossed at the ankles. Holding the remote in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, he was watching the news until she came out. When he looked at her, his eyes became dark and hot with want.

“Feel better?” His voice was low. Rough.

Layla soaked up the sight of him. His chest was tanned from his daily shirtless runs, the broad expanse covered in a light dusting of hair that tapered into a thin line bisecting washboard abs. His arms were a work of art, the ripped biceps flexing when he lifted the water to his lips and drank deeply. His throat worked with each swallow, making her body tighten with need. She was starved for the feel of him.

He was so damn sexy. Deliciously powerful and virile.

She nodded.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” He licked a drop of water off his lower lip.

“How bad I want your mouth on my pussy.”

His low growl made her nipples hard. He came off the bed in an agile rush of movement. “Eat your dinner while I grab a shower. Then, I’ll eat you.”

The look he gave her made her nipples hard.

His gaze lowered to her chest as he approached and stopped in front of her. “I’ve been thinking about licking your mouthwatering cunt since you stopped me last night. I fantasized about pulling over at a rest stop, dragging you into the back of the Bronco, and tonguefucking you until you screamed.”

He pushed his hand into her panties and cupped her. “Umm . . . you’re hot and juicy already.”

Her legs parted at his urging, her heart racing. He was such a highly sexual man and unashamed of his needs. His lack of inhibition turned her on and drove her crazy.

She gripped his biceps as he parted her with his fingers and stroked over her clitoris. Her knees went weak. Her breathing was shallow and fast. His fingertips circled the clenching opening of her pussy, then two long fingers pushed inside her.

“Oh God,” she whispered, welcoming his penetration with a hot rush of moisture. She returned the favor, reaching into his open fly and down the front of his boxer briefs. His cock fell heavily into her waiting palms, the plush head already slick with pre-cum.

He caught her leg with his free hand and urged it up to his waist, opening her to his touch. His fingers withdrew, then thrust deep, making her back arch on a gasp.

“How many times have we done this, baby?” he purred, pushing his cock into her grasping hands. “How many times did you need to come so badly I’d have to find the nearest corner and finger-fuck you to orgasm?”

“Not enough.”

“It’s never enough.” He pumped his hand, working her with scissoring fingers and deft twists of his wrist. His thumb found her clit and massaged it, taking her to the edge of climax. “God, you’re so beautiful. You make my chest ache.”

Layla jacked his cock with both hands, using the fast, firm grip she knew he liked.

“You’re so wet.” He groaned. “I’m dying to taste you. And you’re so close to making me come . . .”

“No.” She stilled, giving him one last firm squeeze.

“Layla!” he protested, curling his fingers to rub her G-spot.

“When you come, you come inside me.”

His green eyes narrowed dangerously a second before he bent his head and took her mouth. His kiss was softer and sweeter than she expected, lush and hot and leisurely. It was his kiss that kicked off her orgasm.

Her moan drifted into his mouth. Her pussy trembled around his fingers and her hands tightened convulsively on his cock.

He hissed, jerking in her grip. “You’re killing me.”

But he kept on thrusting gently, drawing out her climax until only sweet aftershocks remained. She leaned into him, breathing hard, relying on his support to keep her standing.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, nuzzling his cheek against the crown of her head. Releasing her leg, he caught her around the waist and drew her close.

“Shower later.”

“I have stubble, sweetheart. I need to shave.” Brian backed away. His face was flushed, his eyes feverish with lust. “I want you naked when I come out.”

She was already stripping before he stepped into the bathroom. As she heard the shower come on, Layla grabbed her salad and crawled between the cool sheets. Needing to slow her raging heartbeat, she picked up the remote from the nightstand and turned on the television. A few channel switches later, she found a showing of
Navy SEALs
.

She started watching, her thoughts drifting to why a man would choose such a life. Jacob had chosen it because of their father, who had chosen it because of his father. But Brian never really had an answer to that question. He didn’t have those family traditions. He’d been raised by a single mother, who never told him who his father was. When Layla had asked him why he’d joined the military, he’d shrugged and said, “What else was I going to do?”

But he was good at everything, from fixing transmissions to masonry to cooking. He could have done anything with his life that he wanted to.

“You’d better eat quick,” he warned, when he turned the shower off. “I’m about to pounce.”

Layla hit the mute button and feigned a loud snore.

“Ha! I know how to wake you up.”

“Bring it on.”

When he stepped out of the bathroom in all his naked glory, she felt her heart stop. Tears welled and blurred her vision. She dashed them away with impatient swipes, unwilling to lose even a second of the sight of him.

“God,” she breathed, loving him so much her chest was tight with it.

He paused near the bed, letting her look her fill. He was leaner than she’d ever seen him, which told her he was working too hard, but his body was perfect in every way regardless. There was nothing she’d change about him, nothing more she could want. She closed her to-go box and set it on the nightstand without looking away.

Brian caught the edge of the sheet and tugged it down, revealing her body in slow increments. “I feel the same way when I look at you,” he murmured. “Like I can’t catch my breath. Like I can’t blink, in case you disappear when I do.”

He
saw
her. Truly saw her and who she was, knew her and cared about her with all her history and flaws. After feeling invisible for years, hidden behind a name and life that wasn’t really hers, it meant so much to be with someone who
got
her. It meant the world to be with Brian now, during the most dangerous and stressful period of her life.

He set his palms down on the mattress, then his knees, crawling toward her in a luscious display of masculine strength and agility. His cock hung heavily between his legs, making her tummy flutter in anticipation. Her toes curled when he kissed the arch of her foot. His parted lips slid up to her ankle, his hand reaching for her other foot and squeezing.

“Brian?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Come here.”

His dark head lifted, his gaze snaring hers. “No.”

“I’m not stopping you,” she said huskily. “I just want to hold you a bit first.”

He exhaled, then climbed over her, stretching out beside her.

She rolled into him, burying her face against his chest. His skin was still damp and cool, his heartbeat sure and strong. His arm draped over her and she tilted her head back, pressing tiny kisses to his clean-shaven jaw, so damn grateful for the opportunity to hold him in her arms again.

“Layla . . .” His voice was low and hoarse, with an aching note of yearning.

Even with a raging hard-on and her willingness, he’d taken the time to shave his evening stubble so as not to scratch her. He was always thinking of her, in both big and small ways. Always ready to give her whatever she needed.

Except when it came to his job.

“Make me understand,” she whispered. “Why is it so important to you to risk your life?”

Brian stiffened, then rested his chin atop her head with a sigh. “It’s not that.”

“What is it, then?”

“I don’t know. I’ve thought it over so many times. Lying in bed without you, wondering where you were, if you were okay, wondering why the hell I didn’t just say to hell with the fucking job when you gave me the choice.” His hands stroked down the curve of her spine.

She closed her eyes and nuzzled closer. “It gives you something I can’t. Something you need.”

“I don’t need anything as much as I need you.” He pushed her to her back and loomed over her. His thigh slid between hers, his weight settling atop her in the way that always made her feel safe and cherished. “That’s what shreds me, that you’d ever believe I could love anything more than you . . . that I ever gave you a reason to think that.”