After they’d arrested his father, the cartel had crumbled as confession after confession came pouring out of several of the members looking for a plea deal. It was enough to put them all behind bars, and, more importantly, away from Katherine, for the rest of her life. Only his father knew who Jason truly was, and he would rather die than ruin his reputation by turning rat.
The pain of losing his brother was a wound that cut deep with regret. He hadn’t been able to say goodbye or tell him he loved him before he passed, and though the loss remained fresh, he’d forced himself to let go of the blame he took for Oliver’s actions.
He still stayed in the shadows now, much as he had all those months ago when he’d been watching Katherine for an entirely different reason. Now, he did it because he couldn’t stay away from her, because he wanted to make sure she was okay.
And the truth was, she was more than okay. She was thriving.
With her art books tucked under her arm and wearing paint-splattered boots and a glowing smile, she called out to Steven where he sat at their usual picnic table. They would talk animatedly for over an hour before he headed off to his next class and she’d grab a coffee from Java House. It was a routine they’d fallen into over the weeks since school had started again. She always sat on the same side, tipping her head up toward the sky, and letting the sun bathe her in its light.
And every time she sat down, she felt for it. The hidden message he knew better than—but couldn’t help himself—to leave. When her fingers found the small origami, she smiled to herself and slipped it into her bag. He wasn’t able to see her often, but he liked to think that when she didn’t find it there, she was disappointed.
And God, she was so beautiful. It always surprised him how much so, and with every visit, it seemed as though she were coming alive again before his eyes. The heavy layers of grief she’d worn were peeling away, revealing the carefree side of her that shone through honestly instead of the faux confidence she’d always projected. She’d switched to the art program during the summer, and judging by the smile she wore even with the long hours spent inside working, she was finally doing what she wanted and making her own way.
She’d come so far in such a short amount of time, his brave girl.
His girl…
Maybe he didn’t deserve to think of her that way after everything he and his family had put her through, but he felt it nonetheless.
Steven was flipping through Katherine’s latest sketches, admiring every page, and occasionally pointing something out that made him laugh, which had her leaning across the table and giving him a playful smack. Their relationship seemed to have picked up like they’d never been apart at all. Steven was dating an outgoing theater major that didn’t seem threatened by their close friendship, and Katherine had given her stamp of approval. And if her visits to her father’s new house every other weekend were any indication, she’d mended that broken fence as well.
As Steven checked his watch and got up to leave, Jason’s stomach tightened.
He’d come here today with a purpose. But as he stood there, palms sweaty, he felt an unfamiliar emotion settle over him.
He was scared.
Scared of her reaction. Scared of terrifying her.
If she looked at him in fear, he’d stop it all now. But if…
And that was what kept him going. That was what had brought him here.
The “but if…”
Strengthening his resolve, he followed close behind her as they walked the path that led to Java House. When she reached for the handle, he grabbed it first.
“Let me get that for you.”
“Thank you,” she said, and as she smiled up at him, she froze, her lips parting in surprise.
And there it was.
The first look.
The honest one that would tell him whether this had been a mistake or not…
She was staring at him in wonder.
Not in horror. Not in disappointment.
In fucking wonder.
Her head was shaking back and forth slightly. “I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you again.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d want to.”
They stared at each other in silence, reacquainting themselves without any words or apologies needed. He kept his eyes on hers as she searched his. Then she studied his face and perused his body, as if learning the lines of him again.
It had been worth it. Already it had been the right decision, just to have her looking at him that way. He couldn’t ask for more. Couldn’t and wouldn’t. Unless…
“I heard you got a promotion,” she said, her gaze back on his. “Head of the agency. Not too shabby, Mr.…?”
“Jason,” he said, holding his hand out. “Jason Garrett.”
“Katherine Shaw.” She shook his hand, a small smile playing on her lips. “What brings you around these parts, Jason Garrett?”
“I heard this place makes great coffee,” he said, looking up at the sign over the door. His hand stayed wrapped around hers, and she didn’t pull away. Then his gaze traveled back down to hers. “With a pretty spectacular view.”
A radiant blush filled her cheeks, and when a cool wind blew her hair across her face, he reached out with his free hand and tucked the flyaways behind her ear. She didn’t flinch from his touch as he ran his fingers down the long strands. It was blonder since the last time he’d seen her this close, lightened by long summer days spent outside.
Long minutes passed before he let go of her and stepped back. Glancing down at the origami she held in her hand, he gave her a tentative smile. “You always keep them.”
“I do,” she said without hesitation, looking down at it. “They’re beautiful. A cat made out of a crossword page…clever.” Her emerald eyes were shining when she looked back up at him. “I especially liked the hidden messages inside.”
Ahh, so she’d opened them…and she was still standing here talking to him.
For the first time, he found himself unable to speak. This woman, this strong, extraordinary, forgiving woman, had rendered him speechless. If it was possible to erase the past, he would. And then, if she let him, he’d spend the rest of forever making it up to her.
The door to the coffee shop opened, and as several students walked out, she looked up at him, biting her bottom lip. “I’m gonna grab some coffee now.”
His heart lurched in his chest at her dismissal, an aching sadness spreading with every beat. But what had he expected? She owed him nothing. This was enough. It had to be.
“Right. Yeah, you should do that.” He nodded and tried for a smile. “It was good to see you, Katherine. You look”—he took her in one last time, committing every small detail of her to memory—“happy.”
Not wanting to waste any more of her time, he turned and walked away, but before he got too far, he heard her call out.
“Would you like to join me?”
Swallowing past the lump in his throat at her offer, he looked over his shoulder. “I’d love to.”
She reached for the door and opened it, her eyes glinting impishly.
“Age before beauty, and all that stuff,” she said.
A grin spread across his face, and he shook his head as he walked past her.
And this time, she followed him.
The End
Thank you for reading Flash Point. I hope you enjoyed it!
* Want all access to my latest book news + exclusive excerpts, teasers, & giveaways?
Click here to subscribe to my newsletter and never miss a thing!
* Reviews help other readers find books. I appreciate all reviews, whether positive or negative, one sentence or fifty.
* This book is lendable through Amazon’s lending program. Share it with a friend!
What’s Next From Brooke:
Licked
A Desperate Man, Volume 3
(Co-Authored with Ella Frank)
About the Author
You could say Brooke Blaine was a book-a-holic from the
time she knew how to read; she used to tell her mother that curling up with one at 4 a.m. before elementary school was her ‘quiet time.’ Not much has changed except for the espresso I.V. pump she now carries around and the size of her onesie pajamas.
Flash Point is her debut solo novel, and she is the co-author of the erotic serial, A Desperate Man, with Ella Frank. The latter has scarred her conservative southern family for life, bless their hearts.
If you’d like to get in touch with her, she’s easy to find - just keep an ear out for the Rick Astley ringtone that’s dominated her cell phone for ten years.
Connect with Brooke:
Website
Facebook Page
Twitter
Instagram
Pinterest
Newsletter Sign Up
Please enjoy the following excerpt from A Desperate Man, Volume 1, an erotic serial co-authored with Ella Frank…
A Desperate Man, Volume 1
Brooke Blaine & Ella Frank
Chapter One
“Come here.”
Evan James crooked his finger at the blonde currently shimmying back into her minuscule, tight, black dress. The same one she’d worn last night that had called like a siren’s song to his cock in the middle of the dimly lit club.
She looked over at him with heavy-lidded eyes and held the barely there fabric still around her waist. His eyes zoomed in on the impressive breasts overflowing out of her sheer, black bra. Covered, but not enough.
His mouth watered, and he wanted to drag her back to the bed and take hold of her ripe nipple before pulling the fabric down and out of his way to take her fully into his mouth again.
After having had her so many times in the last few hours, she’d no doubt taste of him on every inch of her soft skin. He liked that. Before, she’d tasted faintly of vanilla musk—a fragrance he wasn’t overly fond of. He’d made quick, dirty work of her though, marking and leaving his scent on her with his lips, his sex, his come, and he figured one last go-round before sending her on her way would suppress his craving for at least a couple of days.
He hoped. His appetite was voracious.
“Can’t get enough, can you?” She leaned down over the edge of the bed and placed her hands there, giving him an ample of view of what he wanted. Now.
He narrowed his eyes. “Don't play with me.”
Blondie tsked and put her knees on the mattress, crawling on all fours toward him. “Oh, baby, I told you you’d never want me to leave once you got inside.”
She was right about that much. If he could live in pussy, he would. It was his weakness, his addiction, the one thing he’d give up anything and everything for. And he nearly had.
Luckily, he still had his looks and wasn’t forced to pay her—he doubted the hundred bucks in his wallet would cover the cost of even a blow job nowadays. At least, not from someone of her caliber.
Not that she’d have ever guessed—he played his part well.
He leaned against the headboard, letting her come to him. A white sheet lay haphazardly over his hips, and as she straddled one of his thighs, she bent down and pulled it away with her teeth.
His cock rose as she freed him, her long hair lightly breezing against him, making him hard with scarcely a touch. Oh yeah. He had her.
Threading his fingers through her blond strands, he flexed his hand over the back of her head. Her mouth hovered over his length like a tease, and when his grip tightened, she gave an indecent smile and kissed the tip of his cock.
Pulling away, she looked up at him again, and he grunted, pushing his hips up toward her mouth. He needed those luscious fucking lips sliding all the way down, taking every inch he had.
She got the hint.
Wasting no more time, she grabbed the base of his shaft with one hand and his balls with the other before inhaling him back into her mouth, her tongue flush against the underside, sucking vigorously.
Goddamn but he lived for this. The tight, wet fit of a mouth around his dick followed by the clenching of a sweet, soaked pussy. There wasn’t any fucking thing better in this world, and he’d never get enough. He wanted to live there. Die there.
“Thatta girl,” he urged as she took him deeper. “So fucking sexy with that dress down around your hips…” He stopped as white heat flooded through him, and he had to push her shoulders back to keep from coming. He’d save that for her delicious cunt. “But I need you to take it off. Now.”
The tone of his voice had her unsnapping her bra and peeling her dress back off in record time.
“You want me here?” she taunted, straddling his hips without waiting for a reply, her naked lips glistening with need. “You like me on top, riding you...fucking you?”
Wrapping both small hands around him, she squeezed, slowly rotating them up his length. He watched her, his smile half-cocked, his insides on fucking fire as he tried to hold himself off, letting her tease him, stroke him.
She moved her hands to the front of his shaft and leaned back, pushing him against her. Rubbing her slick heat up and down his cock, coating him with her juices, pressing him hard against her clit as she pleasured herself with him.
God, she was a fucking sight. She was sending him over the edge. And he couldn’t take it anymore.
His back arched, and a roar ripped out of him. He grabbed her hips a little too roughly, lifting her up and pulling her down before filling her completely.
She gasped at the harsh invasion and clamped down around him, causing him to curse and force himself to take his fervor down a notch. The little temptress wasn’t making it easy for him to take it slow. He wanted to fuck her, own her, devour her, if only for the next few minutes.
He was a man crazed.
Leaning up, he grabbed her waist, staying inside her, and moved her onto her back. Her hands gripped his biceps, and he reached up to take hold of her wrists before pinning them above her head on the bed. With a daring look in her dark eyes, she tried to move, but he pushed her down harder and thrust deeper. She closed her eyes and gave a throaty moan.
He pumped himself inside her, and when her head rolled to the side, he bent down and licked a path along her neck. He’d been right—she tasted faintly sweet and salty now, like his sex.
His teeth grazed the soft spot beneath her ear before biting the skin there. She gasped again in surprise and struggled against his hold, but he kept her in place, using her body to ease the ache.
She watched him through half-closed lids, her sex clenching violently, urging him on, her sighs and moans becoming louder, her breathing quicker.
Fuck, she was the tightest thing he’d been inside in months—and he’d been inside more than he could count. She was on the brink, and it wouldn’t take much more to push her over the edge.
He leaned up, releasing her wrists, and put each long leg over his shoulders.
Holy shit. That angle squeezed him like a vise and made his breath catch.
Blondie was panting now, and he made small, quick thrusts over and over to the spot he knew would make her fucking explode. With a cry, she came, and the throbbing of her climax around his cock was all he needed to fly the fuck apart.
“Goddamn,” he growled, holding on to her thighs with a punishing grip as the orgasm ripped through him.
The restlessness he’d grown accustomed to holding inside left his body as he emptied himself inside her. The peace wouldn’t last long. But he’d revel in it for a few moments, remembering a time when this would’ve been enough.
Evan opened his eyes to look into the sated, brown ones he’d felt watching him come undone. Something in her gaze unnerved him, but as quickly as he’d thought it, it passed, and a confident expression took over.
“Hell of a send-off,” she said with a smirk.
“You were asking for it in this little black thing you call a dress,” he said, fingering the material bunched around her waist.
A small smile played on his lips as he eased himself out of her and lowered her legs to the bed.
Her hands went to her hips, rubbing the feeling back into them, and any questions that lingered vanished. She made small, pressured circles to the tops of her thighs, and as he sat there watching, still between her legs, she casually brushed her knuckles against her swollen clit.
He knew that, if she continued, he’d have to have her again.
As if she could read his mind, her movements stopped. Then she pushed up to her elbows, swung one leg up over his head to the other side, and gracefully stood. Her fingers deftly twisted her waist-length hair into a knot, revealing faint marks all over the ivory expanse of her back. His markings.
The visual mitigated part of the craving deep inside—the one that insisted he reach out and take. And take. And take. Never satisfied. Thirst never quenched.
She squeezed back into that tiny dress, running her hands across her breasts before tucking them inside, not even bothering with her bra. She held that out to him on the tip of her finger.
“A memento, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome,” she said.
He grabbed it before his brain could tell himself to fuck off. This was a woman who knew the power she could wield over a man. Over him.
Not that he’d ever let her. Or anyone.
He walked her to the door of his condo, and instead of opening it, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing her against it, gripping her firm ass in his hands, and tasting her one last time.
That wasn’t like him. To linger, to hold on to a fucking keepsake.
He’d burn that bra later—after he’d covered every inch of it with his come.
Buy A Desperate Man, Volume 1
Acknowledgements
Flash Point Page 23
