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I glance down at the tennis ball, strands of dog saliva matting its yellow fibers. Using one foot, I roll it atop the other, then kick the toy in a long arch that passes through the low sun. “Nice kick, ma’am,” says Braxton.
“Played a little soccer on the compound.” I turn and look up at him. “Don’t call me ‘ma’am.’ You’ve been inside me, Braxton. We’re long past ma’am.”
“Are we? It’s what I use for women I don’t know.”
Now I’m starting to get angry. “Fuck you, and fuck the games, Braxton.”
He strides closer to me, reminding me of his immense stature. “That last member of your pack was exceptionally dangerous. You let him go. Why?”
I fall silent in his shadow. He knows, there’s no use hiding the fact. Tears prick my eyes as I struggle to bite back my emotions. “Tell me something, Braxton. Imagine for a moment your brother Max gets taken from you, tortured in ways that twists and corrupts his soul. When he escapes his captors, he’s still your brother, but now he’s also something monstrous. You glimpse Max in there, underneath the scar tissue. What would you do to save him?”
Without hesitation, Braxton answers, “Anything.”
I search his eyes and find a bud of empathy. “That’s what I thought.”
Our faces are inches from one another, a small pocket of air buzzing with tension. I don’t back down. I hold my own, returning his unblinking stare with one of my own.
“One of those people hurt Max. Killed a lot of other people. Decorated a town with their innards like they were Christmas garlands.” Disgust crosses his face. “He’s going to hurt people again.”
“I’ll be there to stop it.”
He lowers his face, his eyes filling mine. Fury and fear perform a wild dance in their blue pools. He draws a sharp breath in through flared nostrils. “You’d better be. Every person your brother kills from now on will be on you, I hope you realize that. It’s not an easy weight to bear.”
I spy a flicker of guilt. My anger softens, replaced by curiosity. I’m fairly certain he knows from experience. I want to ask, but now isn’t the time. “Does Max know what I did?”
“I think you’d know if he did.”
“What’s that mean?”
“That if Max knew you let the most powerful member of your deranged pack we’ve come across escape, you wouldn’t still be on this mission.”
I believe him. Max is a man of duty. He doesn’t take his responsibilities as an Enforcer lightly. Even when there are emotional entanglements complicating said responsibilities.
“Max doesn’t let his guard down too often. And while he might seem as gruff as ever, you’ve gotten under his skin.” Trouble returns with the ball, but we’re both too busy with this staring contest of ours to pay him any attention. I get the sense it’s not only Max whose skin I’ve crawled underneath. Of course, the feeling is mutual. “Don’t fuck my brother over, Asha,” he threatens. And it’s genuine. His voice is threaded with warning.
“I’ll try not to.”
“Do more thantry.” His lip curls. “And that includes staying away from the nerd.”
I tense, my heart racing. “We’re just working together.”
“That better be all it is,” and the possessiveness in his voice does strange things to my body.
He closes the space between us, and his lips find mine. It’s incredible how hard his lips are. How they seem to dominate me with so little effort. And how much I enjoy everything about them.
This man makes me want dirty things.
I cling to him tighter, tilting my head to give him better access. The second I part my lips, his tongue is there, and my body is aching for him. I want to forget the restaurant, forget the men waiting for us, and forget this life. I just want to lose myself in him.
And, apparently, he wants the same. He breaks our kiss, casts a look at the restaurant, and then takes my hand, dragging me to the shadows of the building. Away from the parking lot and the people. A quiet hidden spot where he helps me shed my pants, and yanks his own down.
He pulls my legs up around his back as his lips find my throat, and he sucks his way down my neck. It takes him no effort at all to start rubbing his hard length in my folds, making me wetter and wetter with each thrust. I’m barely aware when he yanks my top down, but my focus shifts to his mouth when his lips wrap around my nipple, and he starts to suck.
“Braxton,” I gasp, wrapping my hand in his hair. Guiding him and yet giving him the control to lavish with me with his tongue as he moves from one breast to another.
I’m climbing out of my skin. Wishing he’d removed his shirt so I could let my hands and eyes run over his muscular body, but only having a moment to do so when his tip presses into me. It’s a slow agony when he squeezes inside of me. Aware of how tight I am. How unaccustomed I am to a man of his size.
Yet, because he doesn’t just slam into me. Because he takes such a care, my body burns hotter, and my impatience grows. I wiggle on top of him, tearing a groan from his lips, and he bites my nipple gently in response. Something that sends a hot shiver rolling down my spine.
