Superb and Sexy (Sky High Air #3)(21)

She was going to melt into a boneless puddle of longing right here on the floor. “Don’t.” She said this in a pathetically low, whispery voice, not knowing exactly what she was saying don’t to.

Don’t stop touching me…

Don’t stop any of it…

His fingers continued to work on her, slipping beneath her shirt to touch bare skin now as his jaw slowly rubbed alongside of hers. “Are you going to pretend to be her?”

“No. Brody, stop—”

But he didn’t. Somehow, he knew exactly what muscles were sore, and what to touch, and how to leave her a bowl of jelly. It had to stop. “I mean it.”

But he kept doing.

All of it.

“But you’re going to somehow risk yourself to save her, is that it?”

Close. Too close, and frustrated, hot, God, so hot, she simply reacted. Whipping around, she hooked her leg behind his knee and dropped him to the floor, which he hit with a heavy thud.

Sprawled on his back, he stared up at her. “What was that?”

Not proud of the move, she backed up a step. “I said don’t.”

Wincing, he sat up and rubbed a spot low on his back. “Ouch.”

Okay, so now she’d used her unfair advantage of martial arts against a man who’d done nothing but drive her crazy.

And turn her on. Let’s not forget that part. Guilt-ridden, she bent over him and offered her hand. “I’m sorry—hey—”

That’s all she got out before he grabbed her hand and tugged hard so that she fell right over the top of him. Or would have, but he caught her and rolled.

The next thing she knew, her knife had flown across the room, and she was flat on her back on the floor where he’d just been, held there by well over six feet of frustrated, temperamental, leanly muscled male.

She struggled, oh, how she struggled, but it was all in vain. He deflected every move she made as if he knew martial arts as well as she.

That only infuriated her all the more, and she fought with everything she had, but he held her down effortlessly, subduing her without hurting her, a consideration she hadn’t given him.

“Damn it!” Furious, she tried to knee him, tried anything, everything, but nothing worked.

Finally, he looked at her, expression unreadable. “Give up?” His voice suggested he was bored.

Bored while she’d used every bit of energy she had, and then some. His every move had been precise, calculated, and efficient.

Controlled.

She was good, she’d made sure of it, but he was better. In fact, he’d wiped the floor with her. And now he wanted her to give up.

Never. She blew a strand of hair out of her face and glared at him. “You know how to fight.”

“Yeah. So?”

“So…” She didn’t know really, except that he definitely had his own secrets.

Which didn’t matter because she was going to kick his ass and be done with this. She rolled, but before she could twist free, he flipped her over so that she was face to the carpet.

Then, in further insult, he gathered both her hands in his. Her good arm he yanked up over her head, the other arm he kept at her side, her wrist manacled by his long, work-roughened fingers.

Because apparently, even while being a pissed-off, nosy bastard, he was still caring and thoughtful.

Craning her head to the side, she managed to glare up at him. “Damn it!”

He simply made himself comfortable on top of her. “You’ve already said that,” he noted. “Now…” He shot her a grim smile. “How about we finish our chat?”





Chapter 9


M addie decided not to answer on the grounds that after she killed Brody dead as a doornail, she didn’t want to have to admit in a court of law that the murder had been premeditated.

He was still holding her so that she couldn’t get free, his big, warm body to hers. He was good. How the hell had he gotten so good?

And why?

At work, he and Shayne and Noah joked around a lot, wrestling occasionally, tackling each other over a candy bar or a CD or something equally stupidly male, but on the whole, they were a fairly laid-back, easygoing group.

And yet he’d fought her like a consummate pro. Even more startling, he’d subdued her without hurting her. “You’re crazy.”

“Probably.”

“Seriously.” She was still struggling to get the upper hand and still failing miserably. “Certifiable.”

“No arguments here, babe.”

She opened her mouth to blast him again, but he merely shifted. His thigh, the one holding hers open, glided against the core of her, and just like that, a switch flicked on in her brain, and she went from violent to something just as devastating.

No. More devastating.

Lust.

The sensations bombarded her body, wave after wave of them—the feel of his heated, strong arms on the outside of hers, the way he held her hands in a grip that was presumptuous, bordering on dominating and aggressive, and yet…and yet she couldn’t hold on to her anger to go with those things.

Just lust.

And then there was the humdinger—either he had something in his pocket, or he’d enjoyed that little tussle.

A lot.

Oh, God.

He was hard. And big. And the knowledge created even more embarrassing reactions…