“You like that, baby?” he asked, pushing in his fingers with punching force and sliding them out. Plundering forth, he wiggled and worked his fingers to provoke more of her natural nectar to seep over him.
“Take off your jeans,” she breathed, trying to see his face through the dark night consuming them. “Please.”
“I don’t need to be naked to give you what you need,” he growled and released her leg to loosen his jeans.
As his body sank down over hers, he pushed the head of his dick through her folds and she groaned while tightening her internal grip until he hissed. His dick was so constricted by the passage it occupied that for a good while, he didn’t move. He cursed at her and tried to ease away, but she whimpered and sucked him back in deep each time he retreated.
“You are hungry, baby,” he said and kissed her until she began to breathe more easily.
She couldn’t deny that she’d missed having this kind of attention from him. That he’d come here to her apartment after being away from it for so long spoke to how he felt about her, to how concerned he was for her well-being.
Looming over her, he stayed still, sliding his forearms higher until they closed on each side of her head and gave her something to rest against as he stroked her cheekbones and touched her lashes. “You know, Tuck told me not to give you shit for it, but… you took a big risk today. A big stupid risk… You could’ve been hurt. You could’ve been killed. What would you have done if they didn’t let you go?”
His thick cock stretched her pussy, she’d never felt so full and the sensation sent shallow, fizzling sparks to each intimate nerve. “I proved on Friday that I can take care of myself,” she said, working her hips to test their connection. “I’m Kindred, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, you are,” he said and when he licked her lips with the tip of his tongue, she opened to try to accept him inside. But he didn’t kiss her again, he elevated his pelvis until he was almost free, then pushed into her, keeping his eyes fixed on hers as he fucked her. “You’re a hot, hungry little thing. You can’t even breathe right. I ram my cock inside you and it becomes your whole world, doesn’t it, baby? Do you want more?” She nodded and heaved in an irregular breath. “Say it.”
“I… I want more,” she said, moving in reaction to his quickening.
The heat and tingling pleasure that encircled the shaft he was using to gratify her began to speed up until the friction burned so hot that it spread past her hips, through her belly, and up to her overworked heart.
His skin beneath her hands grew damp and aided her in stroking his chest and his shoulders. The beat of urgency was heralded by the slap of flesh on flesh as they pulled away and joined the impending explosion of ecstasy promised by their physical fusion.
“B… Brodie!” The taste of his name on her lips was enough to unify all the factors that flooded her brain with the elements of orgasm. As she milked the load from his balls into her cervix, he swore through his gritted teeth.
His body fell in a boneless heap, half on top of hers. When he yanked her over to press their clammy bodies together, she closed her eyes and timed the rhythm of his pulse to try to marry her breathing to the thumps.
He hadn’t taken off his jeans. Some things would probably never change. But that reassuring thought helped her slip into slumber, because her love for him, her dedication to this man, that was something else that would never change.
NINE
Brodie was up before her and had brewed coffee that she gratefully drank after getting out of her shower the next morning. As was always the case when she woke up with Brodie in her apartment, she was running late.
She’d forgotten to grab her cell phone, so she ran back up to retrieve it from her apartment while Brodie went downstairs to pull out his bike. She put the phone in the inside pocket of her jacket and stepped onto the concrete of the service area at the back of her building at the same second Brodie’s motorcycle roared to life.
The sound stopped her in her tracks. When she looked up and saw him there on it, waiting for her, a grin burst to her expression. Rushing over to him, she took his face in both hands and kissed him so thoroughly, he must have thought they were heading up the stairs to the bedroom instead of out.
Squeezing herself close, her arms were wrapped so tightly around his neck that she held her own elbows. Still smiling, she didn’t ever want to let go. “I think I just had a micro-orgasm when I came through that door. My guy is so hot.” She spoke on his lips and he leaned in to kiss her again, signaling he was pleased or amused by her boast. Parting her lips with his tongue, he thrust an arm around her and jerked her body against his.
“Let’s go back to base. Forget about work, baby, come on. Let’s go home and get naked.”
Much as she appreciated his flirting with a smile, he had nothing to prove. “I’m already yours, beau. Always.”
The come on was his way of teasing and his willingness to get playful with her was another sign of his improvement. Seeing him outside, in the light of day, when he’d kept himself secluded for so long, thrilled her because it suggested progress. He was processing his grief and starting to move on.
Him in his leather jacket and jeans on the back of the bike might have had something to do with her exuberance as well. She had her man back, and when he gave her a nudge to the back and handed her a helmet from the handlebars, she turned her eyes to the heavens before she pulled it on.
If Art was looking down on them, she knew he’d used some of his magic to pull Brodie out of his funk. Tossing her leg over the bike, she wrapped both arms around him and squeezed tight when he revved the engine, not because she was scared, but because she was exhilarated. He raced away from her building at a speed she’d missed.
Being on the bike with him amplified her optimism. Sharing the night together exhibited the return of his strength. The Sutcliffe situation had distracted him from his grief and maybe shown him he needed to get back to living his life, rather than languishing in his depression.
The ride to CI took little time. With the speed of the journey, she could tell that Brodie had found some of his spirit again. He loved his bike and the freedom it gave him. This trip was a reminder of all the things he’d deprived himself of since Art died.
He drove them to the executive parking entrance of the CI complex and stopped the bike. Holding onto him for balance, she reached over to the numeric keypad to input the security code to gain entry. As she keyed it in and they sat on the idling bike waiting for the door to rise, she felt Brodie tense until he became rigid. Coming here, where there was a chance he could come face to face with Grant, was a massive step for him and one she hadn’t expected him to take so soon.
When the door was up he revved the bike hard, then navigated them to the executive parking area and pulled the bike into a space that was meant for her. She did still have her own spot, regardless of the fact that she had returned the car Grant had tried to give her, meaning she had no vehicle to fill this premium void.
Brodie turned off the engine, but he didn’t dismount the bike after he helped her climb off. She pulled off her helmet at the same time he did, and he took it from her to let her toss her jet-black hair forward and shake her fingers through it. She’d tie it back when she got upstairs, but for the moment, she liked her hair being as wild as her man.
When Brodie still didn’t make a move to take the keys from the ignition or get off the bike, she tilted her head. “You’re not coming in?”
With a stern expression, he checked out her figure. “What’s the code for the gate?”
“Three-six-two-one-six-zero,” she said. His lips moved in repetition of the digits without uttering a sound. He hadn’t addressed her question, and she was worried he might be shutting down again. “Brodie?”
He didn’t loosen or make eye contact, but he did grab her hip to tug her near to him. “I’ll come back at lunchtime. I want to check something out and then we’ve got to talk.”
It was something
of a response to what she’d asked, but she needed more than that to alleviate her worries about possible regression. If she could keep him operational, then he would have less of an opportunity to disappear back into his despair. “You could come up now,” she said, trying to remain positive. “Do your research in my office?”
Part of her was afraid that if he went back to the manor now, he would never come out again and this progress would be lost. It would be like it never happened if he retreated into himself and backslid into seclusion. Coming to her apartment had shown a return to being driven, and he was right, they had barely touched on the Sutcliffe situation and she had questions.
He scowled. “No, I’m not sitting up there all day.”
“Why not?”
Much as she wanted to encourage his endeavors away from the manor, she could understand his reluctance to enter the actual CI building. He probably hadn’t been in it since his parents were alive. Even if he had snuck in at some time, he wouldn’t want to be seen hanging around now being babysat by his woman.
But when his fierce eyes met hers, there was no apprehension in them, only anger. “Because if I come face to face with him, I’ll beat him until he’s bleeding from every fucking orifice and then I’ll shoot him in the head.”
Well that was a reason and with a head bob, she acknowledged that. He didn’t have to verbalize that he was talking about his brother, that much was clear by the strength of his reaction. The last time the brothers had been in the same space, Brodie tried to choke the life out of Grant. It was true that Brodie blamed himself for not preventing Art’s death, but he blamed his elder brother for putting them all in that position in the first place.
“You blame him?” she asked.
“For Friday night? I blame him for making you step up because he was too much of a pussy to do it. He should never have let anyone touch you.”
The venom wasn’t because of Art, at least, not all of it. His anger was rooted in Grant’s cowardice and his inaction. She’d gone to that bar with Grant and he’d done nothing to stop her assault. Stroking his face, she tried to soothe him, but was overwhelmed with gratitude that this ferocious man was frothing because someone dared to do her harm.
“Beau—“
“Don’t get me wrong, I blame myself too, and I’m gonna… I’ll figure something out to make it right. I’ve put the feelers out, we’re gonna find out who those bastards were and what they wanted.”
Tuck had to have told him about Grant’s claim of a correlation between Purdy’s and Sutcliffe, but she didn’t know how much detail he had. “It was more than money,” she said. “I mean, they robbed everyone, sure, and they spoke about a ransom. But Sutcliffe is coming for us, beau.” Fear made her tighten her grip on his jacket. She didn’t want to let him go. Brodie had killed Tim, putting him more at risk than anyone else. “I guess I shouldn’t have killed Elvis so quick. I should’ve given him a chance to tip his hand.”
If the night had played out as the masked gang wanted, the Kindred might have more information, giving her yet another reason to feel guilty over what she’d done.
“You’re standing here today because you took action. You don’t give a guy time to talk when he’s threatening you. You did good. Aim and squeeze, same as I taught you. You’re a good girl,” he said, and leaned closer. “Gimme some sugar.”
Brodie was more like himself now than he had been even last night. Back to his cunning, ruthless self, he told it like it was. Conceding, she met his mouth and pulled herself in close so she could feel the width of his thigh against her.
“You’ll come back for lunch?” she asked. Now that he had the code, he could come and go as he pleased. Though he hadn’t needed the access code when he rescued her in this space, now she understood that Tuck would have been in his ear helping him to circumvent the system.
Curving an arm around her, he squeezed her ass. “By then I’ll have something to report,” he said, brushing his mouth over hers.
This was too arousing, being with him, connecting with her love, after torturous months of distance ebbing and flowing. He was touching her and talking to her in such an intimate way that she didn’t want to shatter this moment by walking away. He’d saved her life in this space on the same night they’d shared their first kiss. To her, it was fitting that their reconnection had brought them here.
“After work, will you come back to my apartment with me?” she whispered, kissing him twice, each a short but glorious joining.
Returning her kiss, he tightened his grip on her ass to haul her higher and closer until she relied on him for her balance. “Only if it’s to pack up your things and head back to the manor,” he said. “We’re having company tonight.”
That took her aback. “Company,” she said. This was something he’d never said to her even when Art was around. Brodie was one of the most anti-social people on the planet. “You hate people.”
“Not half as much as Zave does,” he said and smacked her ass. “Now get upstairs before I change my mind and drag you back to my cave.”
It was a good thing that she trusted him as much as she did. Turning to walk away, she twisted to make eyes at him. He pulled on his helmet as he turned the key and revved the bike several times causing her to emphasize the sashay of her hips, provoking him to do it again. This was all foreplay, not that they needed further stimulation in the bedroom, but if it was a sign of what was to come for them then things were on the up.
At work, it took an hour to orient herself that morning. Happy thoughts of her night with Brodie and his reversion to being keen and responsive warred with what she’d seen at Sutcliffe’s camp and the possibilities that brought. Grant had wanted to come back to her apartment after their trip, he’d wanted to talk, and she’d told him that she had to think.
Before she walked into his office, she wanted to try to put her sense back into its place. Except he had appointments all afternoon, so she knew that she could only put it off for so long. She had to talk to him before lunchtime.
Giving in to the inevitable, she went through to his office. She closed the door and sat down at his desk, remaining quiet while he finished the piece of work in front of him. When his typing stopped and he closed the lid of his laptop, they made eye contact, but neither seemed sure of where to start.
“How are you today?” he asked and she nodded. It was a cliché place to start, but it was more than she’d offered as an icebreaker. “I know that we have a lot to talk about. Are you sure that you want to do this now? We could go to lunch later, get out of the building and—“
“I have plans for lunch,” she said and he nodded. They could continue with the small talk for the rest of the day. Eventually someone would interrupt them, so she got right to the point before that could happen. Turning toward his desk, she rested both hands flat on the table. “Your housekeeper was killed as was a CI VP. You were present for the attack in Purdy’s. I know that you’re going to tell me Sutcliffe is a righteous and reasoned man, but he’s already taken so much from you. How can you still believe that?”
Although he was frowning, she read in the way his form loosened that he was pleased to be talking about this important matter. But his lips pursed and he took a breath that he exhaled through his nose before making an admission. “I can’t discuss this with you,” Grant said. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”
This was progress. At least he was being honest. “Ok,” she said, opening her fingers to stretch them over the wood. They’d gone to Sutcliffe’s place together, he’d wanted to talk last night and now, for no obvious reason, he was shutting down. If he’d made the decision to cut her out then that would be an interesting development and one she’d test. “I’ll just go home and discuss it with my assassin boyfriend, who has something of a volatile temper.”
“No,” he said, lunging over the desk to catch her wrist despite the fact that she hadn’t moved. “You do that and he won’t miss a second time.”
In the warehouse, Br
odie could have killed Grant, but he chose not to. After losing Art, and with how fickle Brodie had been, Zara couldn’t be sure he would be so merciful if he got the chance of a shot at Grant again and Grant had just proved that he felt the same way.
Having Brodie back boosted her confidence. “You can choose not to trust me and not to talk to me. Just remember, I’m the more merciful of your options. But even if you shut me out, Raven will still be effective at getting answers from you. Maybe more so than I will be… if you’re not forthcoming, I mean.”
Shaking his head in a shallow arc, his brow furrowed. “You’ve changed,” Grant said. “He changed you.”
He gave no indication as to whether he viewed this as a positive or a negative transformation, though she’d guess he meant the latter. But the idea that the man she loved had a tangible impact on her character cheered her. It certainly didn’t make her want to recoil or retreat in shame.
Pride in her man and her relationship was heightened because of the last few hours she’d spent with him. She had to remember her original Kindred remit and tempting Grant to talk was a key objective. “Raven is unique and I am lucky to have caught his attention. But just because I love him, doesn’t mean I can’t help you.”
He was quick to retort, which suggested he was emotional about this situation. “But it does mean I can’t trust you,” he said and let her go to sit back. “When we were in that warehouse, when you were standing between us… I hadn’t seen him in fifteen years.”
They were back to talking about her and Brodie, Grant had a hard-on for this conversation. For three months, he’d said nothing about her relationship with his brother. Recently, she couldn’t shut him up about it. Still, if he was having issues with trusting her, she had to appear to be honest and open with him, like she still trusted him.
She nodded. “I know. He told me.” Grant paused in his contemplation to display his surprise. Zara folded her arms and sat back as she arched a brow. “Sometimes he grunts out a few facts between erections.”
Swallow (Kindred Book 2) Page 11
