Flashpoint Read online

  And instead of her coming to her senses, he lost his.

  9

  AT ZACH’S RESPONSE to her kiss—a thrillingly low, rough sound from deep in his throat—Brooke melted and kissed him again, and then again…

  “Brooke.”

  Lifting her head, she looked into his eyes.

  His breathing had gone uneven, and against her body she could feel his, solid and warm and…hard.

  Very hard.

  She put her hand to his chest and felt the solid thudding of his heart. “Don’t change your mind.”

  “No.” Eyes hot, a low laugh escaped Zach. “No. But we could go to my place, or—”

  “No.” She wanted another kiss. She loved the way he tasted, the way he smelled, so innately male she could hardly stand it. How long since she’d felt this way? Too long, that’s all she knew. “Right here. It’ll help me relax, Zach. I really need to relax.”

  Laughing silkily, he slid his hands to her waist, squeezed, then let them glide up her ribs, stopping just before her breasts. Her aching breasts. “Anything to help,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her again.

  That worked. So worked. He wanted her. She could feel it in the tension in his broad shoulders, in the taut muscles of his back. Knowing it gave her a heady rush of power, and she demanded more, pressing closer.

  His hands slid down her back, pulling her onto his lap, making her momentarily lose concentration as she tried to remember—did she have on pretty panties?—but then she couldn’t think at all because his hands were skimming beneath her dress and were on those panties, and he let out another of those sexy rough sounds…

  Oh yeah, letting loose worked. She should have tried it a long time ago. Already it was beating back the inexplicable loneliness she hadn’t been able to put a name to. With Zach, she never felt alone; it was part of his appeal. He fascinated her. He had from the start. He was such a presence, so virile, so physical—especially right this minute.

  “Brooke?”

  He wore his intense firefighter face, or maybe that was just his intensity, period, but mixed in with it was need and desire, stark, glorious desire—for her. “Yes?”

  His eyes were on hers as his hands continued to mess with her mind. “What are you wearing beneath this dress?”

  “Not much.”

  The sound he made gave her another heady rush, and she gripped the hem of his T-shirt. Helping her, he tugged it over his head, then pulled her back in. The full physical contact made her hum, and then his fingers played with the tie at the back of her neck, the only thing holding up her dress, and the breath evaporated in her lungs.

  “Your skin is so soft.” He was touching as much of it as he could, running his hands up and down her sides, her arms, her back, under her dress, pressing his face to her throat. “And you smell so damn good…”

  He smelled good, too. So good she leaned in and put her mouth to his shoulder, opening it on him because she needed a taste, just a little teeny tiny taste—

  He sucked in a breath when she bit him.

  “Sorry,” she managed behind a horrified laugh when he lifted his head. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it, I just had to—”

  The words backed up in her throat as the front of her dress slipped to her waist. He immediately filled his hands with her breasts. “Sorry,” he murmured, repeating her words. “I couldn’t help it, I just had to.”

  She would have laughed again but his thumbs slowly rasped over her nipples, and any laughter vanished. Unbelievable. She was closer to an orgasm than she’d been during the last time she’d actually had sex. “Zach…”

  “Relaxing yet?” His voice was low, silky.

  “T-trying.”

  “Good. You keep trying.” Bending her back over his arm, he dragged hot, wet, openmouthed kisses down her throat and across a breast, and sucked her into his mouth.

  At the feel of his tongue stroking her nipple, she gasped, and then again when he settled her so that his erection pressed against the core of her.

  He felt hard, very hard. And big. She looked into his glittering eyes, gulping as his hands slid down her thighs, then up the backs of them to play with the edging of her panties.

  Oh, God. This was happening. They were doing this. She untied his board shorts.

  He hooked his thumbs in the sides of her panties.

  She tugged his shorts down, freeing the essentials.

  He repeated the favor with her panties and slipped his hardness between her legs, using the rough pad of one finger to stroke her.

  She quivered. “Zach—”

  He did it again, adding a second finger, and she tightened her legs on his hand so he couldn’t stop, because if he did she was going to die.

  “I won’t stop,” he promised, reading her mind, playing in the slippery heat he’d generated, a heat she’d forgotten existed.

  “Condom,” she managed.

  He went utterly still, then pressed his forehead to hers. “Christ. I don’t—Brooke. I didn’t think about—”

  “I have one.”

  His gaze, so steamy hot it singed everything it touched, met hers.

  “In my purse. It’s been there for a while…” She fumbled for the zippered compartment. “I wish I had two—”

  His laugh was soft and sexy as he took it from her fingers. “This’ll work for now.”

  Biting her lower lip, she nodded, touching his chest, his flat abs, and then lower still, where his shorts were opened.

  He stopped breathing.

  So did she.

  Bold in a way she hardly recognized, she wrapped her fingers around him. Loving the way that made him let out a rough oath, she slowly stroked. Swearing again, he slid the skirt of her dress up to her waist, baring her to the night and his searing gaze.

  “Um…”

  “Relaxed yet?”

  “Not quite, no.” Her dress was now bunched across her belly, leaving her hanging out in the wind. Literally. Relaxed? Try wound up tighter than a coil.

  “Lie back, Brooke.”

  Doing so would pretty much spread her out like a feast. “Yeah, but—”

  He merely laid her back himself. Towering over her, he slid a leg between hers and glided his hands down her arms to join his fingers with hers. “How about now? Relaxed now?” he murmured, pulling their entwined hands up, over her head.

  Was he kidding? She was so far from relaxed she couldn’t even remember the meaning of the word. He was holding her down in the dark, only the moonlight slashing across his face, making him look like a complete stranger. But instead of the logical response of panic, she arched up against him, wanting more.

  He gave it to her. Lowering his mouth to within a fraction of hers, he nipped at her lower lip, then danced his tongue to hers, long and sure and deep, and she gave back everything she got.

  She was a different woman with him, someone who let herself live and love. And she wanted to be loved, more than she’d imagined. Closing her eyes, she rocked into him, moving impatiently against him, her fingers digging into the muscles of his back. “Zach, please.”

  “I plan to. I plan to please you until you—”

  “Relax?”

  “Come.” He slid down her body, kissing her stomach, her ribs. “And then again.” Making himself at home between her thighs, he smiled wickedly. “And again.”

  Oh, God. If he kept at it, she was going to go off in approximately two minutes—

  He gave a slow, sure stroke of his tongue and she revised her estimation to two seconds. His hands skimmed up her legs to her inner thighs, holding her right where he wanted her, and then he added a finger to the mix and she couldn’t have stopped from exploding to save her life. It hit her like a freight train, and he made her ride it out to the very end, slowly bringing her down…

  After a moment, or maybe a year, she came back to her senses and realized she lay there on the rock, staring up at the stars, her hands fisted in Zach’s hair, holding him to her in a way that would have horrif