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Eve had never lied to herself, but she realized she had lied to her brother.
“My head did,” she finally whispered. “But my heart wasn’t so certain. ”
Staring up at him, Eve realized that even when Dawg had asked for her promise, she had known it was unfair. Just as she had known it would be impossible for her to keep.
Rising to her feet, she had every intention of returning to the lake house, gathering her things together, and leaving. There were too many emotions swirling inside her. Too many that she could sense were coming from Brogan, and too many of her own that she didn’t understand.
Then there was the hunger.
Through the conversation, each question and answer, there had been an unspoken hunger building, growing between them: needs she didn’t understand, hungers that raged and built until she was certain she wasn’t sensing just her own, but his as well.
“Where are you going?” he demanded as she moved past him.
“I have to leave, Brogan. ” Staring up at him, she felt torn, so torn she couldn’t make sense of it. “I need time to think. ”
“Time to think about what?” he demanded, his hands catching her hips and pulling her into him. “About us? Or about keeping a promise you should have never made to begin with?”
“Maybe I need to think about the fact that I really don’t like being controlled,” she burst out. “Not by my brother, your boss, or you. ”
She faced him, her chin lifting proudly as she tried—hell, she fought—to ignore the needs raging through her.
Hard and erect, his cock pressed into her stomach.
She was wet, slick, and hot, the weeping heat spilling to the bare folds of her pussy and dampening her panties.
“And I already warned you that was something you should have already considered. It’s too damned late to think you can just walk away, Eve,” he warned her.
“I can do whatever I want to do,” she informed him defiantly.
“Then maybe I need to remind you why you don’t want to,” he stated, his tone rasping, assuring her that the thought of her leaving was one Brogan was refusing to entertain.
“Why?” she cried out, the uncertainties assailing her driving home the fact that maybe she really didn’t know the man she had allowed herself to sleep with the night before.
No, she hadn’t known him, something protested inside her, but she knew him now. She could stare into his face, into his eyes, and she could see him now. She could see the man staring down at her and recognize the emotions swirling beneath the chilly surface of his gaze.
What she sensed there had her body instantly priming for sex. Her clit swelled; her pussy began heating, the slick dampness preparing her vagina for his invasion. She could feel the fierce determination swirling in the depths of his gaze reaching out to her. And being able to read him so well now was a little freaky.
“I can fucking feel you. ” He grimaced, his blue-gray eyes darkening, flashing with frustration. “It’s like you’re slapping me with your hurt feelings and uncertainty. Stop it!”
“Stop it?” Shooting him a withering look, she propped her hands on her hips in vexation. “Fine, Brogan, I’ll stop slapping you with the fact that everyone around me seems to be using me, for some reason, and you can stop slapping me with all that arrogance and distrust I can feel rushing from you. ” She started to turn away before turning back to him. “And while you’re at it, stop fucking me in your mind. It was bad enough before, when all I had to worry about was changing my panties because of my own dirty thoughts, but yours are just plain depraved. ” Her arms crossed beneath her breasts as she stared back at him, incensed.
His gaze became shuttered, brooding as she watched him, her heart racing with anger and excitement.
“You’ve never felt this before either, have you?” That certainty was as clear as the knowledge that the arousal hardening his body was only burning hotter inside him by the minute.
“Felt what?” Guarded, cautious, he watched her almost impassively.
“Forget it. ” Shaking her head, she refused to allow herself to be drawn into an argument he would only find ways to refute. “Just mark it down to my overactive imagination. But remember, Brogan, you’re the one who told me to stop slapping you with my emotions first. I was keeping my mouth shut about it. ”
That was what she sensed, felt. As though a part of her had opened up to him, making her completely empathic when it came to him.
And, it seemed, him to her.
“Chatham Doogan spoke to me first at the bar,” she gritted out between clenched teeth, determined to steer the conversation well away from what they were feeling. “John Walker introduced him as an old friend of his and Sierra’s. ”
“Sierra’s a distant cousin,” he admitted grudgingly.
“He asked me to dinner; I accepted. Why did the two of you pretend you didn’t know each other at the restaurant?”
