Touch of Red (Tracers #12)(47)
Sean opened the passenger door for her, and she slid into the truck. He stood beside her for a moment.
“What?” she asked. “What’s that look?”
He leaned in and kissed her. It was soft and sweet, and completely opposite of their other kisses, where she’d felt like he wanted to eat her alive.
He leaned his forehead against hers. “You amaze me.”
“Why?”
“Everything.”
“Right.”
He pulled back and shook his head, as if he didn’t want to bother arguing. He eased her door shut and then went around to his side and slid behind the wheel. She watched him as he fired up the truck and smoothly backed out of the space.
He was so strong, so confident all the time. She felt strong, too, whenever she was around him. Right now, for instance. At this moment she felt full and energized—as though sharing her experience with him had taken some of its power away.
It started to rain again as they exited the parking lot, and Sean switched on the wipers.
“So, where to?” He glanced at her. “You want to go home yet?”
“That depends.” She looked at him.
“On?”
Her stomach did a nervous dance, but she ignored it. “Does your offer still stand?”
He stared straight ahead as they neared a stoplight. The truck was quiet—just the swoosh-swoosh of the wiper blades as they rolled to a halt.
He looked at her. “My offer?”
“I’d like to go to your place.”
CHAPTER 15
Saying she wanted to go home with him and actually doing it were two different things, Brooke discovered as they drove through town in silence.
He’d answered her request with a brisk nod, but now she felt unsure. All her bold, fizzy confidence seemed to have evaporated. What if she was being too pushy? Maybe he didn’t want this tonight.
She darted a glance at him, but his face was a stony mask as he navigated the late-night traffic. A muscle twitched at the side of his jaw, and she looked away as the doubts closed in on her.
He slowed and turned onto a tree-lined street. Along one side were one-story houses, fairly new construction. The other side was condominiums. Sean swung into one of the condo driveways, and Brooke glanced around at the narrow brick units that backed up to acres of woods.
“You live on the greenbelt?”
“Yep.”
He cut the engine and looked at her. She couldn’t read his expression in the dimness, and her doubts bubbled up again.
“What’s wrong?” he asked gruffly.
“I feel like I invited myself over.”
“No. I invited you.”
He unclipped his seat belt and reached for her, pulling her into a kiss, and the warm press of his mouth gave her the reassurance she wanted. She eased into him, loving his kisses, which had somehow become so addictive in only a few days. Running her fingers through his hair, she pulled him as close as they could get with the console between them. He cupped her head in his hands and changed the angle of the kiss. His mouth was hot and avid against hers, and he tasted of chocolate.
“Mmm. You taste good,” she whispered, pulling him even closer.
“Hold that thought.”
He released her and slid out of the truck, going around the front to her side as she watched him through the rain-slicked windows. He opened her door and tugged her out as she grabbed her purse.
“Watch your step.” He shut the door behind her and pulled her along the wet brick path to a front courtyard. She stood beside him, shivering in the rain as he unlocked the door. A bright floodlight lit the courtyard, but the house was dark inside as they stepped over the threshold. A beeping alarm greeted them, and he crossed the foyer to tap a code into a keypad.
Brooke glanced around as her eyes adjusted to the dimness. A Saltillo-tile foyer led into a spacious living room dominated by a big black sofa and a stone fireplace with a TV mounted above it. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the back wall, and through them she could see a lit balcony overlooking the woods. It was a real place, a grown-up place, and she felt oddly surprised by it.
“This is nice.”
“Thanks.”
“I like—”
He silenced her with a kiss. It was hungry and insistent. His strong arms came around her, and she felt herself being guided back and eased against the hard wooden door. Excitement surged through her as he kissed her and gripped her hips, pinning her body against the wood.
He pulled back a fraction. “I wanted you here last night. You have no idea how bad I wanted that.”
“Why?” she asked in a breathy voice.
“I wanted to prove that I could keep my hands off you. You said I was impatient, and I wanted to show you I could wait.”
She rolled her hips against him. “What do you want now?”
He kissed her, hard, and his hand slid under her sweatshirt. “Now”—his fingers glided over her breast, stroking her nipple through the thin tank top—“all bets are off.” His voice was rough and desperate.
She dropped her purse to the floor and pulled him in for another kiss, thrilled that he sounded so needy for her. She loved everything he was doing—the fierceness of his kiss, the warmth of his hands, both of them now, sliding under her sweatshirt. The expert stroke of his thumbs made her knees weak, and she twined her arms around his neck to keep from slipping to the floor.