Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC #2)(47)

I shattered at his words combined with the small eruption of pain that came from his hand in my hair. I felt him jerk inside me as my muscles milked his release.

I collapsed on the bed as he gently pulled out of me, feeling delicate but sated. Brock pulled me up gently, gathering me in his arms. We lay like that for a second, breathing heavily. Brock kissed me on the head.

“Go clean up, baby, then we’ll sleep,” he commanded softly. I was too mellow from my orgasms to argue. I just nodded meekly, wandered to the bathroom, did as he said and curled up with him in bed. With his strong arms around me I relaxed.

“You’re still in trouble tomorrow,” I murmured sleepily.

Brock’s arms tightened. “Baby, I’m in trouble for the rest of my life.”

The words didn’t sink in as I fell asleep.

I woke up with only a slight hangover but feeling happy and warm. Warm because of the familiar muscled tattooed arms around me. Happy because of the familiar muscled tattooed arms around me. I felt tender between my legs, a reminder of the mind blowing sex from the night before. I snuggled into the iron clad chest I was currently using as a pillow, my leg thrown over his thighs. Then the events pre-sex rushed into my mind. I stiffened.

“Fuck,” a gravelly voice muttered.

The arms around me tightened and I was pulled up Brock’s body. Before I could utter a word he pressed his mouth against mine. Groggy from sleep, and still not able to get sufficiently pissed, I relaxed into the kiss, letting it set me on fire.

The moment his mouth released mine my temper came back. “What was that?” I snipped.

“I wanted to kiss you before we started arguing,” Brock declared, arms still around me.

I struggled out of his embrace and clambered off the bed. I was aware of my nakedness as I searched the messy room for my seriously under packed bag. I spotted it in the corner, picking it up.

Thank god Brock’s room had an attached bathroom. I would have climbed out the window rather than face the prospect of communal showers. I would need a penicillin shot after using his facilities as it was.

“No screaming or swearing this morning, Sparky?” Brock teased. “Maybe I f*cked the angry out of you. I didn’t think that would be possible.”

I glared over my shoulder at him. “I’m not speaking to you.”

I tried my hardest to peel my eyes away quickly from the vision of him in bed but I couldn’t. I would have to be a robot, or my mother to not appreciate what my eyes were feasting on. He was lying in bed, the sheet at his waist covering his impressive manhood. Luckily his six pack was on display, complete with that delicious V. His muscled arms were clasped behind his head, his hair messy and unbound. His blue eyes were devouring me, a hungry look not matching his teasing tone. I gulped as I saw his hard on tenting the sheet at his waist.

I snapped my eyes away before I forgot every reason why I was angry and rushed into the bathroom. I hopped in the thankfully clean shower and let the hot water melt away some tension. It didn’t work with the sexual tension. I was considering taking care of that myself when the shower curtain opened and Brock’s huge body took up the rest of the stall.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

Brock frowned at me. “We’re not arguing yet.”

His mouth descended on mine and he proceeded to take care of the tension. Twice.

After reluctantly getting out of the shower and doing the best I could with the limited provisions I had I was ready to face the day. No way I was hanging around here, potentially getting Stockholm Syndrome. I was tagging along with Gwen to the store.

Brock’s eyes roamed appreciably over my outfit as I walked out of the bathroom. I was wearing a skintight khaki sleeveless turtleneck jersey dress with tan heels and my hair tumbled in messy waves.

“As much as I love how f*ckin’ sexy you look in that outfit, babe, I’m afraid I’m not gonna let you out of this room looking like that. I can’t have you hanging around the clubhouse all day teasing the men and giving them a serious case of blue balls,” he said with a smirk.

I fastened a gold watch on. “I’m not sticking around here—I might catch an STD. I’m going into the store with Gwen,” I informed him. Maybe the bitchy comment wasn’t necessary but I was still pissed at the whole getting dragged here thing.

Brock’s eyes narrowed and he stood.

“You’re not going to the store. You’re not leaving this compound,” he bit out.

I regarded him for a second, cocking my head. “I’m sorry, did you mistake me for someone that you can order around? Because last time I checked this isn’t Saudi Arabia, which means a man does not dictate what a woman can and cannot do,” I said calmly. “On that note, a man certainly does not command another man to practically drag a woman from her home to deposit her in a biker clubhouse then detain her in his room.”

Brock raised an eyebrow, his jaw hard. “Well, that woman didn’t mind it when I was f*ckin’ her,” he said.

I didn’t know what to say to that so I picked up my phone to text Gwen.

Brock strode forward to snatch it out of my hands. Luckily I had already sent it. Ha ha.

“Hey!” I exclaimed, reaching for the phone. “Give that back!”

Brock crossed his arms. “I said you’re not going anywhere. It’s not safe.”