Tempted By Her Rescuer: Brotherhood Protectors World

by Christine Glover

  “This has to go,” he said, wrenching his mouth from hers to drag her tunic top over her head. “And this.” The bra landed somewhere south on the floor as he released her breasts.

  More need flowed, making her wetter. Her scent filled the air, mingled with his clean, masculine aroma.

  His irises gleamed hot as he traced his fingers over her exposed breasts, circling closer to her nipples. She inhaled a sharp breath, raising them while caressing his torso, running her hands an inner feminine thrill thrummed along her nerves.

  He dropped his gaze to her lips, then back up. Renewed heat flashed, pulsed and flared between them.

  God. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had looked at her that way. She popped the buttons on his shirt, pushed it off his shoulders, and over his arms.

  They stood body-to-body, skin-to-skin and the sensation dizzied her, making her knees buckle.

  But he didn’t let her fall, anchoring her with one strong arm while cupping one of her breasts, tweaking her sensitized nipple. She fisted her hands in his hair as lust arrowed through her, sent tremors into every erogenous zone.

  Reagan ached for him, longing for more. “Brent, I want…”

  “Me too.” He caught her mouth again, sucking her lower lip into his, then releasing it with a pop. “So goddamn much.”

  The ridge of his hard cock pressed against her, proving his point. “Then what are we waiting for?” She reached for his waistband, tugged at the belt buckle to loosen it.

  “Hold on,” he said, stilling her hand.

  “I plan on holding you if you’ll let me.”

  He gave her a lopsided smile. “Boots first.”

  A giggle escaped. “Right.” She pushed his chest until he sat on the sofa behind him, then kneeled to take them off. “There. Pants. Now.” Reagan glanced at the man dwarfing the couch as she stood to wiggle out of her leggings and oh-so boring panties.

  He joined her, moving so fast, her vision blurred momentarily. Before she could refocus, Brent wrapped his arms around her waist to draw her close, the hair on his muscular chest teasing the tips of her nipples.

  She circled his neck, and he lowered her to the plush cushions, his full, generous mouth locked onto hers while those hands… oh those hands… they were on her, exploring her like a man possessed.

  Hungry for every touch, every caress, she spread her legs, need pooling between them to give him easier access. Tongues tangling, fighting, sliding together, she devoured him over and over.

  Brent kneaded her breasts, playing with her nipples one by one, dizzying her, driving her higher. The tension coiling low tightened, tugged, pumped hard.

  She hitched her hips, moaned into his mouth. His cock jumped against her leg. So close. So so close. Reagan slipped her hand down, clasped the length, stroked the velvety flesh over granite.

  He pumped into her palm while cruising his hand to the apex between her thighs, moving his long fingers over her folds, probing them to drive one into her.

  She gasped. Spread wider for him to meet the driving force, wanting to take him deeper, deeper still.

  He swept her juices out and over her pulsating clit, circling the bundle of nerves. Stars burst behind her eyes and she cried his name, the sensations powering through her, intense need fired into her nerves, bringing her higher.

  Reagan struggled to hang on, lost her grip on her control as her orgasm built. She wrenched her mouth from his. “Brent. I can’t… it’s too, too-”

  “You can. Come for me, Reagan.”

  He took her mouth again, sucked in her cries, swallowed them as they ripped from her throat. And never let up, increased his pressure, the intensity of his fingers plunging in and out of her making her head spin.

  And when he circled her clit faster, stronger, in tandem along with his relentless driving fingers, her orgasm surged through her.

  She held onto him, her cries echoing in her ears. “Don’t let go, please don’t let me go.”

  “I’ve got you,” Brent promised, his dick growing harder as she flowed around him, her orgasm a rush of liquid and spasms.

  He heard more than the need in Reagan’s words. He heard the wanting. The yearning. Christ. He couldn’t release her and yet…

  She slid her hand down his back, over his ass and raised her hips. “Brent, that was, you were… but I hope that’s not all you’ve got planned for dessert.”

  “Hell no.” He shoved the next thought of his head as his cock throbbed, lengthening with all his blood rushing low. “Just give me a second.” Somehow, in all the frenzy of stripping, he’d remembered to place his protection on the side table next to the couch.

  “Thank God.”

  Brent laughed. “I figured I’d gamble on a yes tonight.” He reached for the foil packet and within moments sheathed himself.

  She hitched her hips higher to give him easier access to her sweet, hot pussy. The pungent scent of her arousal mingled with wood smoke, teasing him, dizzying him.

  Holding her gaze, the cobalt blue irises both sensual and so goddamn trusting. A band tightened around his chest, making it hard to take in air, to breathe. He wanted to deserve what reflected in those gorgeous, sexy eyes.

  “Brent,” she whispered, her fingers ghosting over his brow, cheek, mouth.

  “I got you,” he said again, then took her lips once more and guided his cock between her slick folds.

  She opened for him, once more cupping his ass, insistent, demanding more.

  He drove into her in one smooth stroke, her pussy walls clenching around him, bringing him all the way to the hilt. God. Yes. This woman. This was where he belonged.

  Tight, sweet, wet. Perfect.

  He withdrew, drove in again, plunging deeper, faster. Christ, she met him stroke for stroke, her skin slick, slapping against him.

  Over and over, he fucked her. Hard. Gave her what she’d demanded. Branding her. Claiming her though he didn’t have the right.

  His balls tightened, the full force of his ejaculation building with every stroke.

  She gasped in his mouth, arched her neck, raising herself, thrusting her full breasts into his torso, the nipples budded into taut berries. He raced one hand over them, caressed the engorged tips, playing with them.

  She bucked beneath him, wrenched her mouth from his. “God. Yes. Don’t stop.”

  His cock fucking filled with more blood, got harder than he’d thought possible, and he slammed into her, bringing her to the edge again. “Come with me. Do it,” he demanded.

  “I will. Holy…”

  Her juices flowed over him, hot and creamy. He drove into her one more time, his release shuddering through him until he’d spilled every last drop of himself.

  Collapsing, slick with sweat, he took her mouth again, kissing her as if she were an anchor, a lifeline.

  Chapter 6

  Brent rolled over, taking the sheets with him, only to feel a sharp poke in his shoulder. “What?” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “Anyone tell you you’re a bed hog?” Reagan asked from the edge of the mattress as she scooted toward him and stole back her share of the covers. “Though I suppose I can forgive you considering how well you used it last night.”

  “Sorry.” He brought her into his arms, snuggling her. “What time is it?” Shadows, dark corners and only one dim light illuminated the room.

  “Time for me to get cracking,” she said. “Makeup and hair people will have to get a bonus for making me look like I actually got some rest last night. Not that I’m complaining.”

  He checked his cell phone. Not even seven in the morning. “You start this early?”

  “I’m usually up by now, sometimes earlier,” she said. “Restaurant hours never stop, not even when I’m officially off the clock.”

  “Ah, point made.” He stroked her arm, trailing his fingers down her silky skin. Skin he’d tasted and touched and explored in multiple ways. And he’d grown addicted to the feel of her, of them togeth
er. “Tell you what. How about I make you breakfast while you get ready?”

  “You any good in the kitchen?” she asked dubiously.

  “I make a mean omelet and coffee’s coffee.”

  “Then you’ve got a deal.” She kissed his cheek and scrambled out of bed. She paused at the bathroom door and shot him a sultry look. “I promise not to use up all the hot water.”

  “We could shower together.”

  “So not going to happen. It’ll already take a miracle to get me ready for the show.”

  “I think you look perfect right now.”

  “That’s just because you’re a sex addict.”

  “Go. Take your shower before I prove you right.”

  As she walked inside, her movements slow and languid, a wave of nostalgia washed through him. How easily they’d slipped into a normal, couple-like routine. Something he hadn’t realized he’d missed until he’d accepted this assignment. Just the simplicity of being with someone, enjoying everyday life.

  And then the truth he’d denied, shoved into the back of his brain because he’d just wanted her so goddamn much slammed into his gut. If she ever discovered why he’d shown up at Eagle Point, he figured she might not forgive him for concealing the truth. But so far, her brother’s over-protectiveness had been misplaced. And she’d never hired him, so technically, he could be off the hook.

  Yeah. Keep telling yourself that big guy. You should have come clean before you had sex with her, but you didn’t want to lose out on the chance on really getting to know her… fuck.

  His ass was toast if she learned the original reason for his so-called vacation in Montana.

  Naked, he crawled out of bed, made his way to the living room to retrieve his clothes, drew on the bottoms and shirt, leaving it unbuttoned. Then he checked his Glock and magazine of bullets which he’d stashed in his jacket’s inner pocket. His cell phone now tucked in his pant pocket, he made his way back to the luxury cabin’s small, modern kitchen.

  Within minutes, he’d started the coffee and whipped eggs into a frothy mixture while butter melted in the frying pan. Popping whole grain bread into the toaster, he mentally rehashed the events that had led him to this moment.

  He liked Reagan. He wanted her. He acted on the heat, the craving.

  A heavy feeling dropped into his gut like a rock. Fuck. He’d broken every personal code he had for keeping his hands off his agency’s clients with a dumbass rationalization to justify acting on his desire. Not only that, but as far as she was concerned, she’d had sex with a businessman from San Francisco. Doubtful she’d like his actual profession, one that put him in harm’s way on a regular basis.

  Not after she’d lost the love of her life to a horrific car accident.

  But, he reasoned with himself, she’d never have to know how he earned a living. They’d made no promises. This was a holiday fling. Period.

  The rock weighing down his stomach splintered into pieces, pummeled him from the inside like gun shot. Yeah. He wasn’t just omitting the truth from her. He was deluding himself. He’d slept with her because he wanted way more than a fling, but now he couldn’t figure out how to move forward with the reality of his situation wedging a barrier between them.

  He poured the egg mix into the pan, then hunted for cheese in the fridge. Sure enough, she had plenty.

  “Smells delicious,” Reagan said, sliding her arms around his waist and resting her head on the space between his shoulders. “Thanks for making me breakfast.”

  She smelled fresh, clean with a hint of the vanilla that seemed to follow her everywhere. “Only fair,” he said easily, though his heart drummed faster, a tympani of want warring with guilt.

  “Still, a girl could get used to having a sexy man in her kitchen on a regular basis.”

  His back muscles tightened, pain lanced up his spine with the speed of a lightning bolt. Whatever they’d said to each other about temporary flings or holiday romances had morphed into something different in so many ways. He didn’t know how he could take that change and run with it later. Plus, her history reared in his brain. How could he ask her to take a risk on him given his real career?

  “I’ll get the plates and cutlery,” she said, releasing him and moving to the cupboard.

  She sounded as stiff as his back and neck muscles. He ignored the instant urge to turn around and hug her, reassure her. Better to have her think he was an asshole. Right? No. He didn’t want to hurt her because… fuck… he was so royally hosed.

  He folded omelet, sliced in two with the spatula. “You’ve got a full schedule this week.” Brent placed the omelet halves onto both plates, grabbed the toast and plopped them on.

  The silence in the room hung between them like a heavy curtain, blocking them from really seeing each other. Fine. He’d go back to his cabin, keep up appearances, pull away before he did permanent harm to her, and him too.

  His cell phone buzzed in his pocket, he dug it out, read the text. A stinging sensation prickled into his fingertips and arced into his temples. The fucking accident might not have been a simple skid over ice. The examiner had to run further analysis. And until those suspicions were confirmed, Brent’s assignment officially went from doing a favor for an overprotective brother to making sure his sexy, currently pissed-off client, didn’t get into the line of fire.

  “Any chance we’ll get to see each other today?” Not that he’d let her out of his sight, but he’d planned to watch over her from a discreet distance. No way he wanted to tip her off now.

  She carried the plates to the small table. “Sure,” Reagan said, avoiding his gaze. “That’d be nice, but don’t feel like you have to see me out of some duty. You’re on vacation.”

  Fuck, he’d blown this entire situation to hell and back again. “Thought you’d be part of that now.” He brought the coffee he’d poured and set a cup in front of where she now sat. “We had fun. And neither of us are in it for the long haul, but why not keep having fun?” He lifted his eyebrows, tilted his head toward her while flashing his best one hundred watt smile.

  She sliced into her omelet carefully. Way too carefully. Yep. Definitely upset.

  “You know, Brent, I didn’t mean anything by what I said earlier. But you sure had a strong reaction,” she said, now holding his gaze with hers. “While I’m not interested in long term anythings, I don’t like feeling like I’m just an easy lay. So maybe you should take your offer somewhere else.”

  Reagan bit into the omelet, the flavor like sawdust to her, waited for Brent to reply while she chewed slowly. He’d gone from flirty, easy and relaxed this morning to freaking stiff as a plank. Hell, he’d acted like she’d asked him to walk an actual plank after what she’d said earlier.

  Where had the guy she’d had wild sex with all night long gone?

  His whiskey eyes didn’t shift, refusing to budge from hers, unwavering. But the subtle shift of his knife in his hand and the muscle jumping in his strong jaw revealed a different story.

  She recognized the tension all too well. After all, she had a brother and his friends, including Scott, had certain tells whenever they tried to skirt around the truth or cover something up.

  His Adams apple bobbed up and down as Brent lowered his knife to the plate and leaned back, the movement rocking his chair ever so slightly. “You’re right,” he said after another tense beat of silence. “You deserve better from me.”

  A flush of adrenaline tingled through her body, heating her cheeks. She’d expected him to disagree with her, deny her reaction. Maybe even mansplain his way out of her accusation. She should be relieved, her secret still safely buried, but somehow she wanted him to be that man and his words stung. She hid her confusion, the emotional tumult rolling through her with a calm façade she didn’t feel. “True. I do.” Reagan cut her omelet again, still holding his whiskey-colored eyes with hers. “So why’d you act like I’d sentenced you to a lifetime with a ball and chain earlier?”

  “I got my signals crossed and took what
you said way too seriously.” Brent reached over, covered her free hand with his. “Could you cut me a break and give me a chance to make it up to you?”

  An electrical charge sparked into her skin, traveled into all her naughty lady bits. She shivered despite the room’s warmth. One touch and he’d managed to get past her guard. “I enjoyed our date and last night was great,” she said, jerking her hand free, then pushing away from the table. She couldn’t let him see or know her instant reaction.

  “But?”

  Reagan stood and picked up her dish, clinking the cutlery onto the plate. “But I need to focus on my job right now.” She squared her shoulders and pivoted on her heel, then made her way back to the small kitchen. “Don’t bother helping with the cleanup. Just let yourself out.” She needed him to leave before she did something stupid like cry in front of him. She didn’t want a long term commitment, but she’d liked him. And he’d acted like he felt the same way.

  She scraped the uneaten omelet into the trashcan, dumped her plate into the sink and turned around to see Brent standing too.

  “I really am sorry.” He buttoned his shirt while he spoke. “More than you can possibly know.”

  Why did he sound so, so… sad? And why did his plain spoken words sound true like he really cared more than he wanted to admit? She shook off the thoughts, not wanting to go there mentally. “So am I,” she said resolutely, desperate to hide the whirlwind of confusing emotions pummeling behind her sternum. “I hope the rest of your vacation is fun.”

  He rubbed the space between his brows, shook his head. “Doubtful now,” he said before he made his way to the entryway and grabbed his coat. “Be sure to lock up after I leave.”

  The door closed behind him with a soft snick.

  She slumped against the counter, the pushed away and followed his advice to slide the deadbolt in place. Then, after loading her dishwasher, she shoved on her winter gear and geared herself up for what she’d come to Eagle Point Ranch to do.