It was the please that did it. She gritted her teeth and shook off his hands. “Fine.” She squared her shoulders and threw a quick jab. He caught her fist in his hand, then let it go.
“Not good enough. Try again.”
“What the hell did you expect?” This was pissing her off. “I’m half your size. I’ve only been taking classes for a few weeks. And I don’t want to do this!” She pushed at his hard chest, but he didn’t move an inch. It only made her irritation burn brighter.
Brick obviously wasn’t happy, either. “You need to be able to protect yourself, Olivia. You’re not even close.”
She bit back her anger when she recognized his crazed expression for what it was: fear. Her hands crept up either side of his face.
He breathed in sharply, and his eyes drifted closed for a moment before he leveled his soulful gaze on her. His regard pressed against her like a physical touch. Though a real touch—one from those big hands—would be better.
“I know you live in a different world than I do. A scarier world. A violent one. But nothing is going to happen to me.” She’d already faced the reaper and won. “I joined this class to get stronger and to make my sister happy. I suck at it, which is okay. I’m not trying to become a ninja.”
Her fingertips traced his heavy jaw. “I’m a teacher. I grade papers. I go to the library. When I’m really living it up, I visit my brother or my sister at work.” She left out the part about jumping out of planes and off cliffs. “I’m safe.”
“Safe.” His lips moved, but he barely made a sound.
Her eyes locked on those lips, and her breath quickened as his tongue swept over the bottom one. Moving slowly, she inched closer until her body hovered less than an inch from his. As he exhaled, the heat of his breath washed over her, and butterflies took off in her stomach.
She swallowed against the rising thump of her heartbeat. The tips of her fingers now rested on his shoulders and her thumbs feathered across his collarbone. Want shaped an iron vise squeezing her chest.
Forcing her stare away from his pink, full lips, she took in his entire face. Her need reflected in his stark expression. Unable to wait one second more, she lifted onto her toes and sought his mouth with her own.
He froze at first, his muscles rigid. But he didn’t pull away.
She marveled at the softness of his lips, as she brushed her own across them, teasing, coaxing.
His pulse pounded beneath her hands. Was he breathing?
Was she?
Breaking contact with his mouth, she slid her cheek across his face, the stubble scraping gently against her skin. Her lips against his ear, she murmured, “Kiss me.” It came out more breath than sound, but the words electrified him like live wire.
Those big hands he’d kept at his sides now framed her face. Banked coals glowed in his eyes. He stared at her for a second—two—then pulled her forward to claim her mouth.
Her fantasies of him had nothing on the real thing. Brick kissed with more than just his lips; his whole body swept her up in passion.
The bulk of him overwhelmed her…exhilarated her. The heat and pressure at her mouth intensified with every breath, consuming her, burning her alive. He couldn’t get close enough.
Neither could she.
Her hands clutched his hips, gripping his jeans, crushing him to her. She moaned at the intensity of the contact.
When his tongue finally slipped between her lips, her knees went weak. One of his arms snaked around her back.
No way he’d let her fall.
All her senses trained on this man, on this moment, as she tried to stamp the memory into her mind forever. The trace of cinnamon on his tongue. The scent of soap and sandalwood.
Want.
Need.
Fire.
It was all perfect.
He was fucking perfect.
Her nipples grew tight against the pressure of his chest. And God, why had no one kissed her this way before? Her head swam, and she swayed on her feet, unable to breathe or think or function. She could only drown in his touch.
As he pulled away, she sucked in a deep breath and stumbled right back into his arms. Holding tight to his waist, she buried her head into his chest until the world began to right itself again.
The way his ragged breaths slowly turned heavy and even helped her find her center. His gentle strokes over her hair soothed her.
It could have been seconds, minutes, or hours.
Or forever.
She could stay in his arms forever.
“You make it impossible to walk away from you,” he murmured.
She smiled against his t-shirt. Beneath his regular scent, she caught a trace of sawdust he must have picked up at work. “You should stop trying.” Reluctantly, she pulled back, searching for the control she’d lost when his tongue tangled with hers. “I’m hungry.” The best idea occurred to her. “You ever been to the Majestic?”
Fifteen minutes later, they sat in a small booth. She had a Deluxe Burger with American cheese, and Brick got the Majestic Special.
She breathed in the comforting scents of the food and ran her hand reverently over the familiar vinyl seats. “I’ve loved this place since I was a kid.”
He took a bite of his burger and looked around the place, not quite skeptically, but clearly not seeing beneath the surface of its old-school diner charm.
But he would.
“My dad took me to lunch here for my eighth birthday.” She could still picture him as he looked then, so tall and healthy and strong. “We never told my mom he checked me out of school. He called it a father-daughter adventure.”
She gestured to the shiny red counter and the padded stools. “We sat right there, and he told me I could have anything I wanted. On the grown-up menu. I had a giant cheeseburger and a chocolate milkshake.” She’d felt so big.
Dad had shared memories about all the times his father had taken him here as a kid. The restaurant was a legacy of Turner memories. “He told the entire place it was my birthday and they all sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to me.”
He nodded, setting down his half-eaten sandwich.
“After Dad died—and later, my mom too—coming here helped heal me.” She hugged herself tightly, reliving the bear hugs her dad gave freely every day of her childhood.
“The Majestic is a hundred years old. It’s an institution.” It wasn’t going anywhere. It wasn’t changing. “I can still walk in twenty years from now and see the hanging lights or the vinyl booths. I can sit on the same stool where I sat with my dad, the table where I ate with Izzy after graduation.” She released her arms. “Or this booth, where I ate with you for the first time. It will all stay the same. Accessible forever.”
He dipped his head when she added the memory they were making now to her list of unforgettable moments. The way he’d watched her, transfixed during the story, made it clear he understood the significance.
The waitress stopped by and offered them refills.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and rearranged the ice cubes in his Coke with a straw. “I don’t understand what you’re doing here with me.”
“I enjoy being with you,” she said simply.
He said nothing, turning his attention back to his food.
She couldn’t take her eyes off Brick as he demolished his double-decker burger in a handful of efficient bites. She chewed hers slowly, savoring the juicy ground beef and the cool sweet tang of ketchup before she swallowed.
“Hey, Mister.” A little boy with curly carrot-colored hair and a striped shirt tugged on Brick’s sleeve. “Are you in WWE? You look like a Superstar.”
Brick smiled but didn’t show any teeth. “Nah, buddy. I’m not a Superstar.”
“But you’re so big.” The little boy’s eyes were wide. “I want to be big like you someday. Then nobody can ever be mean to me no more. I could beat ’em up first.”
“You’ll be big one day,” Brick assured him. “I’ll tell you how to do it if you make
me a promise.”
The child nodded.
“The secret: you gotta practice lifting milk jugs filled with water above your head over and over again. You think you can try it? Lift ’em over and over until you can’t anymore. Then do it again the next day and the next, until one day it’s not even hard anymore.”
“Milk jugs are the secret?” The little boy bounced.
“Mmm hmm. But now, here’s your part of our deal. You’ve got to promise me when you get big, you use those muscles to protect people instead of pushing them around. A deal’s a deal.”
“Hey, Dad,” the kid yelled, already running off. “We got any milk at home?”
Brick’s cheeks darkened when he caught her beaming at him. He’d probably hate the idea he came off like a big teddy bear after his exchange with the boy. She needed a distraction…to get him talking. Besides, turnabout was fair play.
“I’ve told you my story. You know about my family, my favorite burger joint, my eighth birthday. And I don’t even know your name. Doesn’t seem very fair.” She deliberately took another bite and waited for an answer.
His brow furrowed. “You know my name.”
“Your name is not Brick. No one names their baby Brick.”
“Oh.” He started tearing his napkin into thin strips. It wasn’t until he completely shredded it that he finally spoke. “Jonathan.” He cleared his throat. “My mother named me Jonathan, but nobody uses it.”
She tamped down on the satisfied smile threatening to take over her face. The last thing she wanted was to scare him off. It was a miracle she’d kept him here this long. “Speaking of calling you…” She pulled her phone out of her purse and slid it toward him. “Put your number in there.”
He looked at it like it might bite him. “You want my phone number?” he echoed.
“Yes. Unless I need to stalk you on your worksite again, the next time I want to hear your voice.”
He added his contact and slid the phone back to her. She picked it up and called him on the spot. She let it ring once, then disconnected. “Now you have mine too.” She waved the waitress over. “We’re ready for the check, please.”
Brick pulled his phone out of his back pocket and stared at the missed call, then back at her. “You want me…to call you.”
“I want you to call me.”
The waitress set the check on the table, and Liv reached for it, but Brick’s hand shot out like a viper, grabbing it first. “You never pay with me.” He stood and pulled some cash out of his wallet. “Not now. Not ever.”
He reached out his hand and helped her to her feet. She warmed at the possibility there might be a next time, but she said nothing. For once with this guy, she wasn’t going to push her luck.
Neither of them spoke on the short drive back to her place, but like before, Brick got out to walk her to her door. She didn’t give him the chance to bolt. Instead, she stepped into him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Slowly, gently, he returned her embrace.
It was heaven.
“Thank you for tonight. I needed this.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Thank you.”
Resisting the urge to go for his lips again, she pulled back. It was one thing to make the first move; it was another to make them all. Skittish or not, the ball was in his court.
She unlocked the front door, flirting gently over her shoulder. “You thanking me for making your dreams come true again?”
He tipped his head and turned back to the truck. “Dreams I didn’t even know I had.”
***
Brick
Brick fought the urge to glance back at Olivia as he walked away. He didn’t even let himself think about her during the drive home. He had to stay vigilant. Aware.
Thank God he didn’t have any jobs lined up from Sucre. He didn’t want anything to taint this perfect, precious night.
The security check at his apartment came up clean. No one had disturbed his home or his money. He took the napkin he’d swiped from the Majestic out of his pocket and placed it on his nightstand, smoothing out the wrinkles. Carefully, he removed the drawer with the false bottom and added the memento next to the toy car and his only photo of him with his grandma. It was the first thing he’d added to his small collection of treasures in years.
After setting everything back to rights, he grabbed a beer out of the fridge and sat on his old, comfortable recliner.
Now.
Now he could think about her.
When he’d seen the angry bruise bleeding through her make-up, his first thought was someone in Sucre’s crew had found her. Someone was trying to get to him through her.
And in a fraction of a second, he determined that person was going to die.
Thank God he’d been wrong. Her explanation about her sister made perfect sense, but he’d needed the ride to her house to get his shit together. Adrenaline pumping so hard doesn’t just disappear.
He needed to do something. Something to keep anyone from hurting her ever again. Hardly a day went by where he didn’t use his fists to pound the fuck out of something. He should be able to use his one fucking skill to help her, to teach her how to protect herself.
But Olivia had other ideas, didn’t she?
His breath caught at the memory of her kiss, and his dick hardened all over again. The fucking thing stood at attention from the moment she put her hands on him. It was a goddamn miracle she didn’t seem to notice.
So many times, he’d told himself to stay away from her. She wasn’t for him. The promise of her kiss was all it took to blow his resolve to shit. He could still smell the hint of her vanilla scent lingering on his clothes, on his hands, his skin. For the life of him, he couldn’t regret how anything played out tonight, even if he’d made a fool of himself trying to be a decent role model to some strange kid.
She was so soft, and the way she looked at him…no one had ever looked at him the way she did before—like he was worth something. Not the protection he could provide or the street cred he could give. Not even the connection he had to Sucre and his money and his drugs.
Just him.
Just Brick.
Jonathan.
He hadn’t thought of himself as Jonathan since he was a kid. The name, it almost hurt to own it. No one had used it in fifteen years. Not even his grandma. Only his mother, and she died a long time ago.
Olivia was an orphan too. Even if she’d lost a very different kind of family than he had, she had suffered.
He was grateful she’d had Will. It didn’t matter if the guy wanted to keep him away from her. More than anything, it proved the man cared about his sister. To make sure she had a home, to help her grow up and be successful, when he was barely more than a kid himself…plenty of adults couldn’t pull off such a thing, his own parents included.
His gaze drifted to his phone. He could call her. Hear her voice whenever he wanted to. The idea was heady.
He pictured her bright blue eyes. How they focused on his mouth. How they broadcast her desire.
His heart sped up and his cock twitched in his pants, demanding satisfaction. Why fight it? He had nowhere to be.
He stripped off his clothes and dropped them on the floor in his wake as he moved toward the bathroom. Even if he didn’t have hot water, a lukewarm shower would still do the trick. Stepping naked into the spray, his cock grew painful, as his body anticipated the relief it knew would come soon.
He lathered the soap in his hand, until he covered his palm in a thick foam. Only then did he wrap his fingers around his shaft and squeeze from base to tip.
He closed his eyes and focused on the faint remnants of vanilla he could still tease out on his skin. In his fantasy, he had her with him, her body bared, wet, and willing. Faster and faster, his hand moved. Harder and harder, he pulled, agony and ecstasy blending together as he approached his release.
Her name was on his lips, and the memory of her taste, in his mouth, as he finally came with a shuddering curse.
; After tonight, he realized he would never be satisfied until he knew how it felt to be inside her. To touch every part of her, body and soul, until she belonged to him.
Forever.
Chapter 11
Brick
Brick couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he pulled up to the Decatur site. The plumbers were working on the Burgundy Street house today, which meant he’d only be in the way there, but he could still do a lot to help the team here.
Kane raised his eyebrow as he settled in next to him in the space they would eventually turn into a garage. “Have a good night last night?”
He ignored the tease and rifled through the toolbox.
“I saw you leave with Will’s sister. I thought you said nothing was happening there, brother.”
Shit. He hadn’t considered whether Kane or Matt might have seen Olivia at the site yesterday. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her reputation or for word of their meeting to get back to her brother. “I meant it,” he sighed, “but she knows what she wants, and it’s really fucking hard to tell her no.”
Today Kane had his dark hair in a low ponytail with a black bandana tied across the top of his head. Tugging at the fabric, he considered Brick’s words. “It’s only hard to tell her no because you don’t want to. So, if she wants it and you want it, why are you fighting it? Will? Cause if you can make his sister happy, I think he could learn to live with it.”
“It’s not only about how Will feels. I wish he was just an overprotective brother who thinks I’m not good enough for his sister. The problem is, he’s right. You know the kind of shit I’m involved with. Olivia’s probably never even heard of Sucre de la Cruz, and I’m glad. I want her as far away from his cesspool of an existence as humanly possible. As long as she’s around me, she’s linked to it.”
He rubbed at his eyes. The pressure building behind them sent sharp spikes into his brain. Saying this shit aloud made it real all over again. “All it takes is one fucking junkie to find out about her, and he’ll use her to get to me or—even worse—Sucre could find out. He’d break her to remind me who’s king. She hasn’t lived like us. She’d never recover.”
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