Asking for Trouble (Line of Duty #4)(46)

“Who tongued your * for an hour straight last night?”

“Brent,” she sobbed. “Brent.”

He let go of her hair and buried his face in her neck, voice dropping considerably. “Who do you belong to?”

His name sat right on the tip of her tongue. Her instincts told her to scream it. When she didn’t answer right away, she felt him tense on top of her. Her silence was hurting him. Hating his pain, loving the sense of rightness her heart’s answer made her feel, she threw caution to the wind and followed her instincts. “Brent.”

On top of her, his body shuddered. “Hayden,” he groaned into her neck. Then he gripped her hips and began to move once again, his powerful drives quickly casting her into oblivion. She had no time to prepare for the release that tore her apart, feelings too close to the surface to keep them separate from her physical pleasure. They overwhelmed her, threatened to sink her, but Brent’s presence, his steady voice, managed to anchor her.

As always, when he climaxed, Hayden marveled at the contrast of uncommon strength and powerlessness in him. He could do nothing but ride out the ecstasy, a slave to his body’s needs. Her body’s needs. She closed her eyes and memorized the shaking of his body, the choked noises he couldn’t contain. The way he held on to her as if she, too, had somehow become his anchor when neither of them expected it.

He lay down on the bed beside her, sweat dotting his forehead. She didn’t hesitate, but went straight into his arms, sighing when he planted a kiss on her head.

After a moment, he broke the silence. “Did that answer all of your questions?”

She smiled into his chest. “Nope. Still wondering what we’re having for breakfast.” Laughter rumbled through him, but he waited for her real answer. She took a silent breath. “Yes. Although if you want to remind me that same way whenever possible, I’d appreciate it.”

…

Brent shoved yesterday’s clothes into his overnight bag, throwing another impatient glance at the door connecting his room to Hayden’s. Christ, she’d gone to shower and change a mere half hour ago and he already missed the sight of her. He’d rushed through his shower, hoping she’d do the same so they could spend the remaining hour before checkout together, but he’d emerged from the shower to find her door locked. He knew her game now and it only excited him. It was her turn to run the show. She wanted to frustrate him, make him wait. Perhaps she’d wait until they had ten minutes to go before coming to him so he’d have to take her quickly. Frantically.

He stared hard at the door, contemplating the idea of knocking. Saying something dirty to her through the barrier, giving her no choice but to open it. She’d be soft and fragrant from her shower. Her scent still lingered in the room, but he needed it up close. He didn’t have a name for her scent. Expensive, appetizing, light, tempting.

Shit. Why don’t you just grab some hotel stationery and write a quick haiku, Romeo? Ode to Hayden’s body. While his fevered thoughts regarding her body could easily take up eight hotel notepads, he could completely double that on Hayden the sensual flirt. Hayden the rumpled jokester. Hayden the girl who carried around hidden pain, locking it up so tight she rarely allowed anyone a glimpse. She’d given him a brief glance last night on the boardwalk and now he wanted more. To learn every part of her. Find out more about what made her tick.

Furthermore, Brent wanted to show her the parts of himself he normally kept hidden under his loud, abrasive personality. The one he showed the world, but didn’t necessarily sum him up. He wanted her to see more. Wanted to show her more.

To his relief, she’d agreed in her own roundabout way to give him that chance. All right, his methods for gaining her agreement hadn’t exactly been fair, but when had they ever fought fair? He and Hayden did things their own unusual way and he wouldn’t change it for anything. They’d have bumps along the way to finding out where this relationship would go, but dammit if he didn’t look forward to arguing. And hell…making up? He got hard just thinking about it.

His cell phone rang beside him on the bed. His sister Lucy’s picture popped up on the screen and he shivered in horror at having a hard-on at the same time. He shook his head to dispel thoughts of an angry yet turned-on Hayden from his mind and answered the phone.

“Luce. What’s wrong? You need bail money again?”

“Funny. You should take your act on the road.” He couldn’t help but smile at her sarcastic response. His sister looked and acted like a sorority girl, but she was hell on wheels. Yet underneath her strawberry curls, so like their mother’s, lurked a closet brainiac. Her intelligence motivated him to work twice as many hours. What was a couple extra hours in a greasy garage when his little sister might take her college education and change the world someday? If she didn’t get herself killed skydiving or speeding on her moped first. “Besides, that one time was a misunderstanding. I didn’t know bonfires weren’t allowed on campus. There should be clearly marked signs.”

“That say what? ‘Use your common sense’?”

She snorted. “All right, I’m going to let you get away with that one. I’m too happy with you today to take issue with your stuffy tone.”

He glanced back at the connecting door. What the hell was taking Hayden so long? “Happy with me?”

“Of course! How come you didn’t tell me you were applying for tuition grants? I would have helped fill out paperwork. Who knew I was even eligible for one?”