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“I need to check the basement more thoroughly,” he’d told Hamilton. Sure enough, using his trusty shovel to carefully shift through the burned and charred debris, he’d found evidence of the accelerant that started the fire.
While Les didn’t need to go sky diving, the logic of pulling her out of her own head to help her handle what had driven her to his door, and address what had been causing her problems even before that, made sense.
He had a couple ideas on how to do that. One would involve taking a comp day and reaching out to Rufus, to see if he’d be on board with what Brick had in mind. It was a lot to ask, but he expected Rufus would agree, if he knew the reason for the request.
The other idea had his cock trying to stiffen against the softness of her body. To settle it down, he reminded himself of the perils of wishful thinking.
Yes, Les wanted him. She had also come to him as a sub came to her Dom. But if he was her first, and she only had a nebulous sense of what a power exchange relationship was, he could end up being just that—the first. Not the last.
He’d prefer chewing on glass than facing that reality, but what mattered was what she needed now. Mean or nice. Gentle or demanding. Asshole or hero. He could be all of those things, when he determined a sub needed them.
And right now, she was his. He wouldn’t make the mistake he’d made a few weeks ago. Whether she officially accepted him as her Dom or it had to stick to a more informal track for now, he would hold her wishes and desires in a gentle hand, but he wouldn’t let them interfere with meeting her needs. And right now she needed something from him. Badly.
He let his eyes close and willed his body to sleep. No matter how easy it would be to let his hands wander over her, wake her, and bring her the mindlessness of sex, now was not the time. He’d waited a long time for that. He could wait a little longer.
Or so he thought.
Chapter Seven
Les started awake. She was used to grabbing quick cat naps wherever med students could find a space and break to do that. Her internal clock said this one had gone on too long, with none of the usual interruptions to wake her and get her back to work or studies.
She wasn’t at the hospital. She also wasn’t in her bedroom, her tablet tucked under her arm where she’d fallen asleep on it, the corner poking into her ribs.
She did have something insistently pressing against her, but it wasn’t her tablet.
She was wrapped in Brick’s arms, one of the most sheltering places she’d ever been. His breathing was an even flow over her brow. Her face was nestled against his chest and throat. Her hair felt itchy, reminding her she hadn’t combed and put it into a twist before bedtime, like she usually did. She’d have to wet it down again to fix it. Preferably before Brick saw it and thought he was in bed with one of those birds who poofed out their ruff to scare off predators.
A mundane thought to balance out her very not mundane reality. Being a medical professional and not a virgin, she knew men got erections in their sleep. But comparing her ex-fiancé Bart to Brick…whoa.
She adjusted, wondering if she was disoriented and one of his arms was between them, pressed at an angle across her stomach.
Nope. The room was dark, the streetlight gleam coming through the pulled curtains telling her it was still nighttime, but she could verify both of his arms were around her. One hand was against her back and shoulder, the other resting over her hip and the rise of her buttock. The third “arm” convulsed in response to her adjustment, confirming it was what she suspected.
A tingle like a bag of SweeTarts on the tongue shot through her belly and thighs.
Brick shifted, and she bit her lip as all that hardness pressed against her mound, a message her clitoris received loud and clear. At the strong ripple through it, a moan hummed in her throat.
Waiting for her attention were thoughts and images that would kill every ounce of desire, so no surprise, her body desperately overrode that part of her mind. Her brain didn’t take much convincing, a co-conspirator to the crime.
She opened her fingers on his chest to stroke through the hair and slide over the bump of a nipple, moving down to the layers of muscle over his ribs. She knew the names for all of them, and had an in-depth knowledge of what was beneath them, thanks to Rick, her assigned cadaver.
She’d keep that thought to herself. Medical students tended to view the body and its workings differently from normal humans. It didn’t change her female appreciation of what she was touching now.
Using Rick’s name helped keep him a real person in her mind. He’d donated his body to her education; he wasn’t just a bunch of parts, or an inanimate object like a microscope. But if ever proof of a soul was needed, it was evident in the comparison. Rick had long ago left the husk of his body, while Brick fully inhabited his, taking up every square inch of space with his life energy.
Energy that made her restless and ready. Her thighs were getting slippery, no underwear in the way. She wanted his hands on her under the sweatshirt. She wanted the sweatshirt gone, so she could press her breasts against his wide, bare chest, feel the rough rasp of his hair.
He had given her a place to land, and he wanted her. He was in bed with her, wasn’t he? He could have put her in his guest room.
There was no reason they shouldn’t, and every reason to reach for that pleasure. He wouldn’t deny her. What man would? I’m here, I’m willing, and there’s nothing to stop us.
“Les. What are you doing?”
Sleep deepened his voice to that husky sound. She’d reached his waist, fingers sliding along his hip and back, to the hint of a very firm ass under the waistband of his shorts.
She tipped her face to his, pushing herself forward to find his mouth. A kiss would answer the question, a kiss like the ones in his truck a few weeks ago. She wanted another.
He moved his hands to her waist. In a motion that expelled a startled gasp from her, he had her on her back. He leaned over her, his knee between her legs, pinning one thigh, that steel bar of his cock pressed against it. She could see the faint outline of his head and shoulders.
