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“When I was in school, I could look at a picture of the human nervous system, or the formula for the Schrödinger Equation, or the chemical structure of Marcellomycin, and it just stayed there in my head. I could call it up whenever I wanted and, sometimes, it was just there when I had no interest in calling it up.”
He nodded and crossed the rest of the space between us, perching on the bed next to me. His thigh wasn’t touching mine, but I could feel the heat that radiated from it like a warm caress.
“It’s the same.” I shrugged. “They’re just… there. I see a picture,” I said, nodding to the screen, “or I see someone who’s been hurt, and I can’t get them out of my head. I can’t shut it off.”
“And what happens when this is done?” he asked. “When we’ve taken down Domínguez and there’s no new pictures.”
I scoffed. “There are always more pictures,” I said, shaking my head.
The day I’d gotten into the car next to Gabe, it had felt like an adventure. He’d agreed to take me along—more or less willingly—to torture some sicko for information about a forced-prostitution ring, and my brain had lit up.Yes,it had cried.This matters. This means something.And maybe most importantly,this is freaking exciting.
But it wasn’t exciting anymore. Not that what we did had changed, but it had become more real with every passing day. Real people being kidnapped, tortured, and murdered. Real sickos who didn’t give a flying fuck about the torment they inflicted. Just really fucking real.
Brute sighed and put a hand over mine. Not even the tips of my fingers peeked out from beneath his broad hand.
“I’m starting to wonder if you’re a little less crazy than I thought, darling.”
I laughed. “Oh no, I’m crazy. There’s no doubt about it. Maybe even certifiable,” I said, waggling my eyebrows and shaking off the way his big hand felt oddly comforting. “Comfort” was not on the table here.
Lucky for me, the moment I stood up, the edge of my towel got snagged beneath Brute’s thigh and the corner I’d had tucked between my breasts let go.
The towel fell.
Brute stared.
And suddenly, I had a feeling this night was about to get good.
Chapter Eleven
Greta
I probably should have been blushing ten shades of pink. I probably should have yanked the towel off the bed, wrapped it around me, and maybe darted off to the ensuite in abject embarrassment.
But I wasn’t. And I didn’t. Because I was notthatgirl.
I stared back at Brute as his heated gaze traveled over every inch of my naked body, lingering on the jewelry through my nipples and belly button, then pausing again on the clit ring.
Maybe it was the jewelry that did it, but I could practically feel his resolve melting away. And by the time he stood up, it was gone.
There wasn’t an ounce of uncertainty in his eyes as I reached up and slipped his cut off his shoulders. And considerate woman that I was, I laid it carefully on the other side of the bed since I knew biker men had a thing about their cuts.
“Still think this is a bad idea?” I asked.
He nodded. “Possibly the worst ever, darling,” he said, but he didn’t stop me when I grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it up over his head.
“Oh, dear god, look at you,” I said, glancing over the shoulders, pecs, and abs that were jacked to high heaven. Hell, his bicep had to be close to the size of my thigh. Freaking perfect.
He chuckled. “I’d rather look at you, darling,” he said, looking over me once more, his gaze so hot I was pretty sure he left scorch marks in his wake.
He licked his lips, and I think the image of that tongue on me just about gave me a mini-orgasm.
“Bad fucking idea,” he muttered right before he slid his hands beneath my ass, and he lifted me up like I weighed about as much as a feather.
My pussy pressed against his ripped abdomen, but dear god, I wished he’d slide me just a little lower. I wanted to feel the hard length of him against me. I wanted to know if his cock was every bit as impressive as the rest of his magnificent body.
Instead, he spun us around and dropped me down on the bed, leaning over me.
He reached between us, cupping my breasts. They felt heavy and my taut nipples ached. The lightly abrasive feel of his skin against mine shot lightning bolts of heat straight to my clit, making it pulse while my pussy clenched around nothingness.
