Chapter 11 #2
“Sounds good. I’ll be in the shower.” He needed space before he did something stupid—the only thing more dangerous than kissing her was talking about their past. He made his way to the marble-covered bathroom and stared at the glassed-in shower with jets jutting out from the wall.
An image of Dani wet and naked under the spray flashed through his mind.
Great. As if he weren’t bombarded with enough lewd fantasies about her.
Tension pushed at her temples and Dani massaged the tender areas.
Food was on the way, and she’d ordered a ton of it, as promised.
Now that she was in the hotel with copious amounts of food and sleep at her fingertips, the pressure on her chest should have dissolved.
But it hadn’t. And it had nothing to do with the woman on the train and everything to do with the ripped gentle giant in the shower.
The sporadic splashes of water in the basin amped up her blood pressure.
She was losing her mind. Being chased, hunted, and wanted for an international felony had shoved her into unknown territory.
A territory that craved companionship, touch, and Brock’s devastatingly hot body.
Not to mention his warm, wet mouth on her skin.
She growled on a sigh, stripped off the white zip-up and beany, and strode to the window.
The Eiffel Tower loomed in the sky, its lights shining bright over the Seine.
She curled her fingers into the damask curtains and rested her forehead on the window, taking in the Parisian beauty.
She shouldn’t have opened her mouth about her honeymoon fantasy.
Brock wasn’t stupid. He knew he’d been the only serious man in her adult life.
She closed her eyes and forced the tears away.
So what if she mourned their dead relationship?
So what if she’d once dreamed of being here with him and their circumstances now were shockingly far from what she’d imagined.
It would make anyone have regrets. She was twenty-eight freaking years old and completely alone.
She’d been twenty-five when Brock pulled off the Domenico Vitali heist behind her back.
She’d told herself she’d get over him, that there would be other men.
That she’d find what she had with Brock with someone else. Well, that hadn’t happened.
There was only one Brock, and unfortunately, he seemed to be the only one for whom her heart danced.
His silhouette appeared in the reflection of the glass.
She started and then relaxed as the familiar chiseled jaw stopped at her shoulder.
“Hey, you okay?” His breath tickled her ear.
Its warmth penetrated her skin. His voice was as smooth as brandy.
He dragged his knuckle over the sleeve of her shirt and stopped at her hand.
His warm, damp fingers brushed hers and then fell away.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Her words came out rough and froggy with the longing she’d suffered all this time without him. All the years wasted. She cleared her throat.
“You’ve been staring out this window a lot.”
“Look at it. It’s beautiful.”
“Is that the only reason?”
She turned to face him, and the backs of her thighs brushed the window casing.
A white towel hung loosely around his hips.
Water droplets flecked his skin, and the wet hair on his head and jaw appeared several shades darker.
Her mouth went dry. She let her gaze fall to the bulge beneath the knot in the towel then slowly moved it up every inch of exquisite flesh he’d left exposed.
His hands hung at his sides open but tense.
His engorged biceps twitched and his flat, brown nipples were coiled into tight little nubs.
A deep shake started in her womb and rippled through her loins. She needed strength more than ever right now.
Good Lord, please give me the power to resist this temptation.
“I’ve been hiding my face all day. It’s nice to expose it to a window without being afraid.” The raw honesty stunned her. Was that her voice that sounded so vulnerable?
“You’ve been through hell these last few days.” His mouth quirked, and all her self-control fell away. He folded his hand around her hip and took a step closer. “Babe, I need you. And I think you need me too.”
His husky voice sent a shiver down her spine. She wet her lips and darted her gaze around the room. “Uh . . . what about—”
Knock, knock, knock
A scowl engraved Brock’s forehead, and his pulse moved against the thin skin at his temple.
“Room service. I’ll get it.”
He pressed his hand against her belly. “Stay put.” He stalked to the door, and the muscles in his back jumped with each movement. She watched as he checked the peephole and then opened the door. Man, she’d hate to be the person who cockblocked Brock.
A cart rolled in. Brock handed the server some bills and he bowed then disappeared into the hall.
“Did you tip him?” she asked, as she floated to the scent of breaded chicken, pasta, and garlic. Her stomach rumbled.
Brock’s scowl deepened. “After what he just interrupted?”
She chuckled, plucked a grape from the fruit platter, and popped it into her mouth. “I don’t think he knows what he interrupted.”
“He does now.”
“Well, we ordered the food, after all.” She gestured to the mini buffet and picked another grape from the stem.
He strode toward her and took the grape from her fingers with his mouth. His tongue licked her skin, sending a lightning bolt of pleasure through her nerve endings, before he chomped into the fruit.
“So, what’ll it be?”
Her cheeks burned, and she delicately lifted another grape. He lunged for it and she popped it into her mouth with a smile.
His hazel eyes melted and desire radiated from his body. “Think I won’t come after it? Dare me.”
She rested her hand on his chest and satisfaction warmed her. She’d missed the playful banter between them. Brushing her thumb over his nipple, she watched his pupils dilate. She let her hand drift down the center of his abdomen, marveling at the hard-earned bulking flesh.
“I don’t think I need to dare you, Brock.” Her voice lowered to a raspy drawl and her heart hammered against her breastbone. His hazel eyes flashed, and she saw raw, male hunger in them.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He brought his mouth to hers, and fire snapped through her veins.