Two

      Brooks’s touch was like a jolt of electricity running the course of her body. One touch, one simple finger to her cheek, one slight meshing of his whiskey-flavored lips with hers, was giving her amnesia about the other men in her life. Men who’d trampled on her heart. Men like Trace, who’d taken from her and hadn’t given back. Trace, the man she’d waited for all these months. She squeezed that notion from her mind.

      Her time to wait was over.

      Brooks’s giving and patient mouth didn’t demand. Instead, he encouraged her to partake and enjoy. She liked that about this man. He wasn’t a player of women. No, her gladiator and presumptive keeper of her virtue was a man of honor. He didn’t take. He gave. And that’s exactly why she’d decided to come to his room tonight.

      She placed her trust in him.

      He wasn’t asking her to bare her soul. But she would bare her body. For him.

      Her fingers nimbly played with the tiny white buttons on her blouse until the material slipped from her shoulders, trapping her arms. Cool night air grazed her exposed skin.

      Brooks’s sharp intake of breath reached her ears. “You’re unbelievably beautiful.”

      He worked the sleeves of her blouse down her arms until they gathered at her wrists. He held her there, mercilessly tugging her closer until her bra brushed his torso. “Yeah, I like you in red.” He stroked her hair and then snapped the silky strap of her bra.

      “It’s my color,” she whispered, and he smiled.

      “I won’t disagree.”

      He nipped at her lips then, several times, until his mouth claimed hers again. The kiss swept her into another world, where the only thing that mattered, all that she felt, was the pleasure he was giving. His tongue plunged in and met hers in a sparring match that ignited a fiery inferno within her. Whimpering, she ached for his touch. Finally his fingers dipped inside her bra to caress her nipples. Everything unfolded from there—the pleasure too great, the sighs too loud, the hunger too strong.

      He worked magic with his mouth while his hands found the fastener of her bra. Within seconds, and none too soon, she was free of her blouse and restraints. Her breasts spilled out into his awaiting hands, and the small ache at her core began to pulse as he touched, fondled and caressed her. She was pinned to the spot, unwilling to move, unwilling to take a step, his invisible hold on her body too strong. Her nipples stood erect and tightened to pebble hardness. Aching for more, she leaned way back and was granted the very tip of his tongue dampening her with moisture.

      “Oh, so good, Brooks.”

      His outstretched palms bracing the small of her back, he answered only with a low guttural groan.

      And once he was through ravaging her, he brought her up to eye level, drinking her in from top to bottom. Shaking his head, he fixed his gaze on the full measure of her breasts. She had a large bust for a petite woman and this time she didn’t mind having a man’s eyes transfixed on her. “I can’t believe you,” he muttered. “You’re not real.”

      The compliment went straight to her head.

      Brooks was a city dude, a man who didn’t fit in her world, yet here she was, nearly naked with him and enjoying every sensual second of it.

      “I’m very real,” she breathed, closing the gap between them and lacing her arms around his neck. His erection stood like a stout monument, and there was no missing it. “And I want more.”

      “Whatever the lady wants,” he said, running his hands up and down the sides of her body, his fingertips grazing the sides of her breasts. Another round of heat pinged her as anticipation grew.

      He turned her around, came up behind her and slowly grazed the waistband of her jeans with his hands. His powerful arms locked her in, and his mouth was doing a number on her throat while his long fingers nudged her sweet spot. She murmured her approval, and lights flashed before her eyes. He stroked between her thighs, and a cry ripped from her throat. And then he was pulling the zipper of her jeans down, slowly, torturously, his erection behind her, a thrilling reminder of what was to come.

      “Kick off your boots,” he whispered in her ear.

      Goose bumps erupted on her arms.

      Her legs were a mass of jelly.

      She kicked her boots off obediently, and then his index fingers were inside her waistband, gently lowering the jeans down her legs. She stepped out of them easily. “Red lace panties,” he murmured appreciatively. He cupped one cheek, fitting her left buttock in his palm. He stroked her, smoothing his hand up and over, up and over. “Oh, man,” he muttered, the heat of his body bathing her.

      From where she stood with her back against his chest, she felt his body shudder. Quickly she turned around. The room was dimly lit with a sole lamp, and they were cast in shadow, but there was enough light to see a deep, burning hunger in his eyes.

      “Lie down on the bed,” he told her.

      Her heart was pounding like a drum, beating hard, beating fast. He was a man who took control. She wasn’t one to obey so easily, but there was a look in his eyes telling her to trust him. She did as she was told and lay on the queen bed, naked but for the panties she wore.

      His gaze roamed over her body, slowly, the gleam in his eyes filled with promise.

      “Galahad?”

      “Hmm?”

      “Having second thoughts?”

      He laughed at her, giving his head a shake. “Are you kidding me? You have no idea...”

      “What?”

      “...how turned on I am. I’m trying to keep from jumping your bones, Ruby.”

      She glanced at the flagpole erection bulging in his pants. “What if I want you to jump my bones? Isn’t that why we’re here?”

      He squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah, but... I want this night to last.”

      She rolled to the side and leaned on her elbow. His eyes sought the spill of her hair touching her breasts. “Come to bed, Brooks. I’m a big girl. I can take whatever you have in mind.”

      “Doubtful, honey. What I’m thinking...”

      She grabbed his hand and tugged. He landed on his butt in an upright position on the bed. “Do it, Brooks. But first take off your clothes.”

      He grinned. “How did I get so lucky?”

      “Judging by the cut of your cloth, you were probably born lucky.” She was guessing.

      He grunted. And that was all the reply he gave her.

      Sitting up on her knees, she helped him lift his shirt over his head and pull off his boots between kisses. Her hands sought his chest, all powerful and rippled with muscle, smooth and hard, like the planes of a solid board. She reveled in touching him, her fingertips toying with his flattened nipples.

      That move landed her on her back, her arms locked by one strong hand above her head. “Two can tease,” he said.

      And then he was pulling her panties down and touching her where she’d prayed he’d touch. Her body instantly responded, and soft moans rose from her throat. She undulated with each stroke of his hand, each caress of a fingertip. He kept her pinned down, covering her with his body, the soft flesh of his palm applying pressure