Page 90 of The Goat Next Door

“Is that so?” He pulls his finger out completely, leaving me cold, aching, and instantly desperate.

I open my eyes, batting my lashes at him, trying to hide how much I’m already craving the return of his touch. “What? Did you run out of ideas? Or are you suddenly shy?”

He leans back in, his breath hot against my inner thigh, his fingers hovering just millimeters away from my clit. “Apologize for calling me a prick.”

“Make me,” I challenge, my voice a sing-song taunt.

Brooks lets out a low laugh, and then he slides two thick fingers inside me, stretching me wide, but he stops moving entirely. He just holds them there, pinned inside. I squirm, desperate for the movement, my pussy throbbing around his fingers.

“Say it,” he orders. “Say you’re sorry, Emmy.”

I stare at him, stunned.

I swallow hard, my pulse hammering in my throat.

Why is this so hard? I’m not shy. I’m never shy. I’m the woman who speaks her mind, so why can’t I just say sorry?

When I don’t respond, he begins to slide his fingers out, just an inch.

“You’re really going to make me beg?”

“I like hearing you beg a little. Makes me feel appreciated.” He pulls his hand away entirely and stands up, adjusting his jeans. “And you don’t get to call me a prick while I’m between your legs, sweetheart.”

My heart hammers against my ribs.

I’m so close I can taste it, my clit aching, my body humming with need.

“Wait,” I plead. “Brooks, wait.”

He pauses. “Well?”

I look at him, my jaw hanging open.

Because somewhere between the gruff fire chief routine and the constant lectures about safety hazards, apparently Brooks Lawson has been hiding an entire personality.

And judging by the look on his face, he’s enjoying my surprise way too much.

I stare at him, breathless and thoroughly suspicious. “Where exactly has this version of you been hiding?”

Brooks raises an eyebrow. “What version?”

“This one,” I whisper dramatically. “The smug, bossy, deeply inappropriate one. I thought you were all rules and protocols and lecturing me about structural integrity.”

His mouth twitches.

“I am,” he says calmly.

“No, see, that’s the disturbing part. You somehow turned safety compliance into a personality trait and then blindsided me with…” I wave a hand vaguely between us. “Whatever this is.”

Brooks steps closer, slow enough that my pulse starts climbing all over again.

“Maybe you just weren’t paying attention,” he murmurs.

“Oh, I was paying attention,” I say. “You spent weeks glaring at me like I was personally violating a fire code.”

“You usually were.”

“That is not the point.”