Fast Burn (Body Armor #4)(35)

He surprised her by saying, “I think so. Even though I’m sure you’ll be safe here, I know I want to stick closer to you, to see for myself that you’re okay.”

His admission gave her a small thrill. “That sounds awfully involved for someone who doesn’t want involvement.”

“Never said I didn’t want to be involved.”

“Then—”

“But there’s a small problem, honey. See, you take the whole boss gig to heart even though I don’t work for you. You need to learn to separate that once you leave the office.”

Did she do that? Yes, probably.

“You’re a boss,” he said. “But that shouldn’t define you. You’re also a sister, a friend...and a very sexy woman.”

He looked at her so intently, as if willing her to understand.

Hanging on to that sexy woman compliment, she said, “I can try to separate things.” She had promised Enoch, after all. “It’s just that I’m so good at being a boss.” And maybe not so great at the other things. “Ask anyone who works for me.”

“Maybe they say that because they do work for you. Let me remind you again: I don’t.” He slid his hand up her throat, his long fingers curling around to her nape and his thumb tilting up her chin. “I’m also good at being the boss.”

Sudden insight sent her brows up. She had no qualms challenging him. “So this is about the big macho fighter being too insecure to take orders from a woman?”

“More insults?” When she scowled, a dangerous smile curved his mouth. “I’d say it’s about you being afraid to be a woman.”

Absurd! She started to jerk away, but suddenly his other arm locked her to him. That didn’t stop her from struggling.

“Can’t bear to hear the truth, Sahara?”

Far as challenges went, he nailed it. She stopped levering away and instead thrust her face up close to his. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

He chuckled at her bravado. Actually chuckled!

Furious over his galling amusement, Sahara could think of only two ways to wipe away his humor.

Her knee could land home in a very sobering way.

The other option would be... She kissed him.

Or more like she attacked his mouth.

When he leaned back to avoid the assault, she followed, her hands now fisted tight in his shirt, high against his collarbone. She nipped his bottom lip, sucked it into her mouth, licked over it, and then, sealing her lips to his, she explored the damp heat of his mouth. She loved the slick texture of his strong white teeth, his velvet tongue, and she especially loved the low growl he gave in reaction.

Abruptly, he stopped retreating and instead adjusted his hold.

The hand around her nape tipped her head farther back so he could take the lead. His other hand scooped down to her behind and pressed her against him, their bodies perfectly aligned for a tantalizing fit.

It was a battle of wills, each of them trying to take control...until Brand backed her up so that her thighs bumped into her desk. Proving his strength, he scooped her up one-handed and sat her on the edge.

Against her lips, he said, “Open your legs.”

Never one to give in easily, she asked, “Why?”

“I want between them.”

Oookay. That sounded enticing. He still firmly clasped her nape, making it impossible for her to look away. He saw everything she felt, probably read in her eyes everything she considered. Just to throw him off, she smiled...and slid her knees apart.

“Good.” He pushed up the slim skirt she’d changed into, then widened her legs farther by stepping between them.

The denim of his jeans felt rough against her inner thighs.

So did the free hand he traveled up the inside of her knee.

The sensation of his calloused fingertips firm on her sensitive flesh, along with the probing force of his dark brown gaze, made her eyes heavy.

As if he knew it, he whispered, “Keep them open.” To ensure he had her attention, he brushed his knuckles over the crotch of her silken panties.

Like a bolt of lightning, the touch sizzled all along her nerve endings, making her gasp and bringing a flush to her skin.

“So hot,” he whispered, still idly stroking. “I’d like to make you wet, too.”

She was getting there pretty quickly already.

When Enoch’s voice came through the intercom, she jumped.

“Mr. Delamore is here, Ms. Silver.”

Brand slowly withdrew his hand and, with attention to detail, carefully straightened her hair, when she hadn’t even realized it was mussed. “Mr. Delamore?” he asked with more than idle curiosity.

“Prospective client.” Her voice trembled as surely as her limbs. Wishing it wasn’t so, she explained, “We had an appointment.”

“Tell Enoch to give you three minutes.”

Nodding, she started to stand, but Brand shook his head. “You can reach the intercom.”

Another challenge, and this one was harder to meet because she felt like warm gelatin. She reached out a hand for the intercom button, was still a few inches away and ended up leaning back on an elbow, practically sprawled on her desk—with Brand standing between her legs, his hands holding her hips.

Trying to steady her voice, she touched the button and replied, hopefully in her usual no-nonsense tone, “Apologize for the delay, but I’ll need five more minutes.”