Page 64 of Burning Justice

“I’m not.” The more time he spent with her—in or out of bed—the more he thought it.

Her grin disappeared, and she arched a brow, her trademark reaction, he’d come to learn, when she thought someone was full of shit. “All the beautiful women that must fall at your feet…I can’t compare to them.”

“Then don’t. And for the record, I don’t compare you to them.”

“Ahhh.” She grinned again. “So you do have women falling at your feet.”

“I didn’t say that.” He tugged her hand to his lips, dropping a quick kiss on her knuckles. “Technically, they don’t fall at my feet. Trip, maybe.” She tried yanking her hand away, but he held fast. “I’m kidding. I just like to watch you get all hot and bothered.” Yeah, and when had that started? “Seriously, I don’t compare you to anyone.” Never taking his gaze from hers, Brett wet his lips, brushing them against her knuckles, then running his tongue over them. “You’re incomparable.”

Oh man. Had he really just said that?

Yep. Because she really was.

Her innate ability to understand what he’d been through… Gemma got him in a way no one else ever had. And when she’d touched his burn scars, she hadn’t been repulsed. Rather, she’d somehow managed to put herself in his shoes and feel the same emotions he’d experienced after both fires. Her ability to do that floored him.

Gemma went as still as ice. Slowly, her brows lowered, and the skin over the bridge of her nose crinkled, as if she were gauging his truthfulness. Not that he could blame her. If someone ever told him they thought he was incomparable, he’d know in a heartbeat they were handing him a line of shit. That was the thing. It hadn’t been a line at all.

“My god. You’re serious.”

He nodded. Never in his life had he joked about his feelings for a woman, and he wasn’t about to start now. Especially not with Gemma. His feelings for her were as pure as any he’d felt in his life.

“You know.” She leaned over until her face was inches from his. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you hot and bothered.”

He grinned. “That’s because I don’t get hot and bothered.”

One corner of her incredibly kissable lips quirked, then a mischievous glint came to her eyes. “That sounds like a dare if ever I heard one.”

Before he could utter a quick retort, she shimmied down his thighs and began stroking him.

Unable to peel his gaze from her hand rising slowly up, then down his shaft, repeating the process a little faster each time, Brett swallowed. “Gemma, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Because her hand felt so good, he was on the verge of erupting like Mount Vesuvius.

Rational thought fled. The only thing that could possibly have topped this was being inside her warm, wet body.

“Shhh.” When she leaned down to place a finger on his lips, her lovely breasts hung low, grazing his chest and sending shock waves to his dick, making it jump in her hand. “I want to do this. You made me feel good. Now it’s my chance to return the favor.”

“Favor?” Was that what this was about for her? Returning a favor? “You don’t owe me anything. And this isn’t about me.”

“No?” She continued stroking, making him impossibly hard. “It could be, though.” She leaned over and licked a pearlescent bead from the tip of his erection.

Brett gritted his teeth. It was either that or he really would explode and launch right off the mattress. Her pretty lips sucked on his head, and the tip of her wicked tongue flicked at him.

He was in heaven. And hell.

The combination of her full lips and tongue, sucking and licking, caressing like a warm wet massage while her hand stroked him was… God, he couldn’t find the words. But if she didn’t stop soon, he’d never make it inside of her.

In a move so fast she squealed, he flipped their positions so she was lying beneath him, laughing. “I know you like to be on top,” he said, kissing her neck just beneath the tip of her earlobe and being careful to avoid the bruised parts of her neck. “To be fair, though, you have to let me win sometimes, or my manly ego will be shattered.”

“I’ll let you have your way.” She laughed softly. “This time.”

Brett chuckled. He should have known she’d never hand over total control, and he liked that about her. Still kissing her neck, he slipped his hand into her thick hair, being careful not to pull at her sutures. He loved how the silky soft strands felt against his roughened fingers.

As he began working his way south, dropping kisses in the valley between her breasts, and lower, to her belly button, she sighed—a low, throaty sound that made him harder than steel.

Now, where were those condoms he’d seen her toss somewhere while he’d been pretending to be asleep?

Finding one of the packets at the bottom of the mattress, he tore it open and sheathed himself. He ran his hands up her outer thighs, then around to her buttocks, and pulled her to him until the tip of his dick rubbed against her wet folds. He couldn’t wait to get inside her.

Slowly, he eased into her tight, wet warmth, and as he did, she sucked in a breath. Inch by inch, he pushed deeper, uttering a growl so low, so possessively feral, it surprised even himself. He didn’t do possessive, never had. But there it was.