The door opened and Brenda peeked out. “Dinner’s on the table.”

***

“So, Justice,” her mom said, as soon as they sat at the table, which was heaped full of roast beef with potatoes and carrots, a large salad, and her mom’s homemade bread. “What brought you to the Chicago area?”

Brenda dragged her attention away from the mouth-watering scent of the roast filling the room to listen to his response.

He shrugged. “Day job, actually. Coming here was a kind of promotion.”

“How interesting,” her mom said carefully. Asking questions of superheroes about their secret identities or day-lives as most people called them was usually a no-no. Mabel Booth was a superhero herself, and had a deep respect for keeping one’s super and normal lives separate.

“Tell us about your case, dear,” Brenda’s father said, after Justice’s silence made it apparent he wasn’t going to offer up any more information.

She poked at her potatoes with her fork and tried to think of the best way to describe Howler. “It’s nothing big, really. The villain—Howler—can knock people out with sonic waves. Makes my power useful for once.” She shrugged. “He doesn’t have super strength or anything, he’s kind of a skinny guy. Nothing to worry about.”

Justice frowned at her, but didn’t contradict her story.

“Guess it’s gotta be nice for you to get in the field for once.” Paul shoved a big bite of roast in his mouth. “Not like your power’s usually good for a whole lot except getting in some quiet time,” he said around the food.

Brenda stiffened in her seat but didn’t argue. He was right; it was good to get out in the field, frightening as it was much of the time. And she couldn’t argue with his opinion about her powers, though she was tempted to throw a chunk of roast at him for his lack of tact.

“Doesn’t take a powerful ability to be useful.” Justice’s voice was lower than usual, and when she glanced at him it surprised her to see his clenched jaw and the red color rising up his neck onto his face.

“Sure,” Paul said, apparently oblivious to the signs of Justice’s anger. “But I mean, not as if our Bren’s usually useful in a superhero capacity.”

“Paul,” her mother said, voice full of warning. But Brenda noticed that her father’s attention was all on Justice. Her father was a quiet man, not given to talking about much outside of football except on rare occasions, but he watched Justice like he’d done something very interesting.

“What? It’s not an insult; it’s just the way things are. Jeez, I didn’t say she was useless or anything. Just her power.”

“Her power saved the mayor of Chicago last night.” Justice stood up from the table and leaned over to stare at Paul while he spoke. “Her power saved an innocent elderly couple whose only crime was minding their store.” He raised a hand from the table and pointed at Brenda. “Her power is the only chance we have of catching a dangerous super villain.” He tossed his napkin next to his plate. “I’d hardly call that useless, and you should have a little more respect.”

Brenda gaped as he sat back down. Unable to take her eyes off him, she struggled to speak, to find something to say. But her mom was faster.

“He’s right, Paul,” her mom said simply. “Who’s ready for cobbler?”

Chapter Six

Silence radiated from her during the drive home, and tension twined around her crossed arms, her clenched jaw, her fixed stare out the window. Whatever her problem was, it wasn’t his fault. He defended her from that tactless jerk of a brother. She could stew about it or yell at him, but that was her call. Not his problem, not his conversation to start. But when they entered the house, his determination cracked.

“Okay, what’s your problem?” he asked when she plopped her purse on the coffee table just a little too loudly.

She turned to face him, hands on her hips. “What’s my problem? What’s your problem? I mean, I invite you to dinner with my family and you start a fight?”

“Your brother started it. I just finished it.” His voice rose, and he made his way across the room so he stood only a few feet in front of her. “How could you expect me to just sit there when he was talking about you like that?”

Face flushed, she raised her chin and glared at him. “He wasn’t talking about me, just my power. Look, I know he can be a jerk, but he’s still my brother. And he’s right, my power isn’t exactly the most useful one around.”

“Bullshit. Your power is as useful as you make it. You’ve proven that to the Superhero League this week, why can’t you believe it yourself?”

She spluttered, “I, that’s not…this Howler thing is a unique situation.”

“Well, regardless of how you view it, I’m not going to sit at a table—your parents’ or anyone else’s—and let someone degrade it—and by extension, you—without saying something.”

Her bright eyes glinted with unshed tears, seeming even darker than normal, and her brows drew together in confusion. “Why do you care?”

Simple words, but he struggled to answer her question. Why did he care so much? Why had he had to force himself not to jump across the table and knock that condescending grin off her brother’s face? He looked down at his fists clenched against his sides. Because he cared, that’s why. He gave a damn, even though it was stupid and dangerous and likely to get him hurt.

A soft touch on his shoulder brought his gaze back to her. Eyes wide with confusion and wonder stared back at him. She looked so goddamn beautiful and vulnerable, he ached to pull her into his arms. But she gripped his shoulder to balance with one hand and caressed the side of his face with the other. Rising onto her tiptoes, she drew him closer so she could kiss him.

Soft lips met his, and he wrapped his arm around her to settle his hand in the small of her back, the other he used to stroke her hip. The scent of his own shampoo surrounded him, blending with her lotion in a way that smelled better than anything. She smelled like his.

One of her hands brushed the back of his neck, and the other gripped his shoulder, like she feared falling if she let go. He deepened the kiss, lightly grazing her tongue with his, and she writhed against him.

He growled and pulled her closer, and the softness of her breasts pressed against his chest. God he wanted—needed—to see her, to touch that softness. To feel all of her under his hands, his body.

He pulled back for a moment and the sight of her knocked the air from his lungs. Lips swollen, her chest heaved as though she had to fight for air. She wanted him too, and that knowledge made him harden painfully.

She slid her hand from behind his neck to rest on his chest. “What’s wrong?”

“Not a thing in the world,” he murmured and then bent to take her mouth with his again.

***

She’d been waiting for him to kiss her again, and could admit it to herself, if not to him. And seeing him defend her had only worsened her attraction, which had made her angrier, and hotter. It was a vicious cycle. Finally, she couldn’t wait for him to make a move anymore. She had to kiss him.

Mouth hot against hers, he took her lips a second time, and she molded her body to his, feeling his heat through her clothes, and how much he wanted her pressed against her stomach. He was so hard, and she ached to touch all of him. To feel his hands all over her. To feel him inside her.

She touched the side of his face, and his skin was rough even though he’d shaved before they left for her parents’ house. Then she slid her hand through his hair to the back of his neck.

His tongue touched hers, testing. The moan escaped her before she realized it was coming, and he gripped her even more tightly to him.

The ache screaming from her chest and between her legs blossomed. But she wanted him too much. What would happen when this was all over? When he no longer needed to hide her in his home? He was a first rate superhero. She knew exactly what would happen.

But she still didn’t want him to stop.

His mouth moved from hers and she made a noise in protest. But he didn’t step away from her body, instead he traced small kisses and nibbles down her neck until he reached her collarbone. The smell of soap and fabric softener intermingled with the slight scent of sweat and an underlying smell of him. It overpowered her, took away her ability to think, to consider what they were doing and what it might mean.

His hand moved up her side, slipping under her shirt to graze her flesh with the rougher skin of his palm. But it wasn’t enough; she needed to feel more of him, to have him naked against her.

Justice tugged at the buttons on her shirt, face intent with desire. Freeing her from it at last, he made a triumphant noise. He took one of her still-confined breasts in his hand, palming her before undoing her bra clasp.

He hissed at the sight of her naked breasts. Then he took her in his hand again. Massaging. Caressing. Loving. Raw jolts thrummed from where he ran his thumb over her nipple and it hardened into a small nub. She gasped as he took her other breast into his mouth. Licking and sucking and nibbling her to the brink.

She’d imagined his mouth on her, more times than she cared to admit, but the fantasies fell far short of the reality. Every inch of her skin ached to be touched by his callused hands and soft mouth. Licked by his clever tongue.

He played with her, moving between her breasts with his hands and mouth. Each touch sent a jolt to her core. Giving them both equal attention until she cried out and squirmed in his arms. Thoughts flew from her head as he slipped her jeans off and she yanked at his shirt. He stepped back and pulled it off himself. But his eyes never left her.

He took her all in, her legs, her breasts, and her expression. The intensity in his gaze was almost frightening in its power. But it didn’t scare her. His hungry eyes made her shiver with need. To be the target of such desire was overwhelming.

He slipped out of the rest of his clothes and she only had a moment to take in his sculpted body before he picked her up. She kissed his neck and chest while he carried her, tasting just a touch of salt.