Fast Burn (Body Armor #4)(55)

Appearing hurt, she paused and asked, “Do you trust me with anything else?”

He wanted to reassure her, but this was too important to leave open to interpretation. “I trust you to keep your word.”

One slim brow arched. “My word?”

“We had an agreement—and honey, we’re not in the office, and not around your employees.” Brand spared her a quick glance. “That means I’m the boss.”

Silence filled the interior of the car, then he felt her hand on his shoulder.

“Do you have some orders for me, sir?” Her fingers trailed down his arm, off his arm and onto his leg. She curved her hand over his thigh, fingertips dangerously close to his junk. “Something you’d like me to...do?”

Forgetting all about his mother, Brand accused, “Tease.”

“I enjoy teasing you.” Her nails lightly scraped over the denim at his crotch. “Don’t you enjoy it?”

“Yeah.” He enjoyed it a lot. Holding the wheel tight and keeping his gaze on the road, he said, “Maybe you should save the teasing until we’re home in bed, though.”

“It’s a long drive.” Resting her head against the seat back, her smile in place and her gaze steady on his face, she withdrew her hand. “Maybe I’ll just tell you what I’d like to do to you, instead.”

“I’m game.” Hell, he was already half-hard.

Sahara wasn’t one to do anything halfway, and the woman was far from reserved. She boldly detailed her seduction, what she’d like to do to him, how and where she’d do it, leaving out nothing.

By the time they got to the agency, Brand could barely think for wanting her. Sahara’s brand of foreplay nearly torched him.

Yet he still noticed the man standing across from the parking garage, half in the shadow of a shop overhang, his demeanor watchful—until he spotted Brand. Then he became more alert.

Briefly, their gazes held as Brand drove past, but short of stopping in the middle of the road, Brand had no choice but to turn into the garage. As he did so, he glanced into the rearview mirror—and saw no one.

“What?” Sahara asked, giving up her lurid description of where she would kiss him. She twisted to look back through the rearview window. “What’s wrong?”

“Probably nothing,” Brand said. “I saw...someone. He seemed to be watching the agency.”

Frowning, she said, “Describe him.”

“Hard to do. Tall, wearing a hoodie. He was mostly in shadow, away from the lights.”

“I don’t see anyone.”

“Yeah, he disappeared after I spotted him.” Or after he spotted us.

“The man who kidnapped me was enormous. As big as you.”

“This guy looked a little shorter. I’d say six feet tall or so.”

Sahara lost interest. “Not our guy, then.”

Brand wasn’t convinced, so he stayed aware as they entered the building, pausing to speak to the guard. Much as he’d like to get hold of the bastard who’d taken her, he’d rather not do it with Sahara present.

He’d feel better once he had her secure in the suite.

They stepped inside, and as he locked the door, Sahara was busy shedding clothes. He turned and found her stripped down to her bra and panties.

She had a thing for fine lingerie, and looked fucking gorgeous in it.

“In a rush?” Brand asked.

“After all that teasing?” She reached back to open her bra, then dropped it over a chair with her clothes. “Aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, letting his gaze move over her. With her hands up to free her hair, she looked even more slender. But she had an inner strength that left him awed.

Standing there against the door, Brand toed off his shoes, bent to remove his socks, then stripped off his shirt. Watching Sahara, he moved to the couch and sat down. “I remember every word you said, everything you promised.”

“Mmm.” She smiled as she came to stand before him. “So do I.”

“Take off your panties.”

“You’re still wearing your jeans.”

Yeah, they’d stay on a while longer—at least until he got her off. After all the verbal foreplay, he didn’t trust his control, but he could see in the flush of Sahara’s skin, the tightness of her nipples, that she needed release.

Her teasing had teased her also.

“Take them off, Sahara.”

She hesitated, but only for a second. “So I’m to be naked while you’re not? Does that mean you plan to touch me?”

“It does.”

Her smile warmed. “I can handle that.” She peeled off the tiny strip of lace she called underwear.

Brand patted his thighs. “Come here.”

When she started to sit on his lap, he stopped her, using his hands to guide her over his thighs so that she straddled him instead. With his hands on her narrow back, he bent her toward him—and latched onto her left nipple, sucking strongly.

The pleasure was so keen, she almost lurched away.

He enjoyed saying, “Stay still.”

“Brand,” she moaned.

“Shh.” He switched to the other nipple, sucking, licking, leaving it as ripe as the left. He liked the way Sahara squirmed, the little sounds she made, how her fingers clenched in his hair.