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He was making up for lost time, and he’d be damned if he would let Brogan Campbell or Timothy Cranston fuck that up.
* * *
She should have known he would show up at some point.
On second thought, she had known he would show up. She’d actually expected to see him when she’d arrived home.
Stepping from the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel, she closed the door slowly and stared across the room to where he was sprawled in the easy chair sitting next to the patio door.
As she leaned back against the door, he rose slowly to his feet, the blue-gray of his gaze gleaming in the low light burning next to the chair.
He’d obviously had a shower himself. The jeans he’d worn earlier that night had been exchanged for a lighter pair, the white shirt for a short-sleeved lightweight denim, though the boots were absent entirely, his feet bare. And he still looked far too sexy and far too dressed.
And she was far too underdressed in the large towel she’d wrapped around her body. A body that was becoming far too sensitive as the adrenaline still simmering in her system began to come to a rapid boil.
“Why are you here?” she whispered, fighting the pulsing arousal she had yet to cool.
“I wanted to make certain you were okay. ” Rising to his feet—her heart began to race furiously—he stalked slowly toward her.
“I’m fine; you can leave now. ” She really needed him to leave now. Now, before she made the ultimate mistake of jumping his bones.
His lips tilted in a beginning curve of a smile.
“Are you scared, little rabbit?” The amused rasp of his voice sent heat racing through her lower stomach to clench deep inside her womb.
As he came closer, Eve found her grip tightening the towel where it was tucked above her breasts, gripping it with desperate fingers. The heat afflicting her womb flushed her face before racing through her body as the velvet slide of her juices eased from her pussy.
Hell, this wasn’t fair—to want him like this, to ache for a man so much, and to have his touch denied her.
He paused in front of her, his hand lifted, the back of his fingers glancing across the tenderness of her cheek.
“It makes me sick, knowing your pretty face has been bruised because of me. Sandi would have never targeted you if she hadn’t been aware of my interest. ” His eyes moved over her face, intent, filled with purpose and regret. “I promise you, though, I’ll make sure you never have to worry about Sandi or anyone she knows, ever again. ”
Shrugging nervously, her breasts rising and falling as she fought to breathe, Eve shook her head slightly. “She just thought she could clear the playing field,” she whispered.
“Bullshit,” he growled, anger licking at his gaze. “She belongs to Donny, and no matter the rumors about their relationship, there are some rules in the touring club, just because so many couples are so often in such close quarters. One of those rules makes her off-limits to any member of the club as long as she and Donny are together, and she knows it. The rumors of her and Donny taking lovers outside their relationship has never been true that I’m aware of anyway. Besides, she’s not the type of woman who draws me, Eve. ”
Nervous energy had her mouth drying out, her lips aching for moisture—for his kiss—her tongue peeking out to moisten them. Her breasts felt too tight and swollen, her breath catching as Brogan’s gaze latched onto the parting of her lips as she fought to draw in air.
“So what type woman does draw you?” she found the breath to ask.
“You draw me, Eve,” he answered immediately, his voice low, deep, as dark as sin and sex itself. “More than you know. More than I should have ever allowed. ”
His hand turned, cupped her cheek, then pushed his fingers into the hair at her temple, easing back until he could clench the heavy thick strands at the back of her head. The other hand gripped her hip, holding her still as Eve’s fingers clenched at the towel with a death grip.
Because she knew what was coming.
Staring up at him, she had plenty of time to say no.
“I promised,” she breathed out on a sob instead, torn between this man and a hunger she couldn’t deny, and the brother who had saved her and her family’s lives. “I promised, Brogan. ”
Her breathing stalled.
Icy fingers of sensation, internal ghostly caresses feathered over her body, preparing her for his touch.
“What did you promise?” The cropped length of his beard brushed against her cheek, the feel of the closely clipped growth of his mustache rasping against the lobe of her ear as his lips caressed the upper curve. “Did you promise not to be a woman? Not to be hungry for my touch, Eve?”
He brushed a kiss against her ear, moved lower until his lips caressed beneath her jaw, smoothing against skin so sensitive that the feel of his kiss sent tiny explosions of heightened pleasure rushing through her body.
