Page 7 of Avery's Hero

Fuck. This is so wrong.

A thousand disasters are about to set sail.

But I don’t stop.

Even when my tongue is deep in her mouth, and her hands are biting into my biceps, I don’t stop.

Her little moan makes me ravenous. My hunger has been growing for a year. Just like that night on the patio of the Seafarer Grill, we are consumed by something that neither of us can control.

Only this time, the consequences are going to ruin us both.

CHAPTER TWO

I’m a total mess. A trembling, hot, strung out mess in a matter of seconds. Brock’s mouth is scorching hot. Demanding. Almost brutal in his desperation. Stroke after stroke, his tongue moves against mine, setting off bursts of heat that crackle like fireworks beneath my skin.

Damnit. I had hoped my memories were wrong. But they’re not. It’s just as good as it was that night. It’s spectacular. Holy smoking undie fires.

With my back pressed against the wall, and a mountain of muscle pressed against my front, I’m transported back tothenight. The first and only time the towering firefighter kissed me.

I’ve clung to that moment every night for more than a year. Ever night, my face flamed and my core throbbed. But so many times it was a reminder of how far I was outside my comfort zone.

Brock Mitchell is a beast.

Everything about the man is intense. He’s the kind of man that takes what he wants and leaves a trail of melted lace and silk in his wake.

Which my body thinks is just divine. My brain, on the other hand, has a serious problem with that same fact.

Sure, I’ve been around plenty of intense men, but I never let them close. There’s no way I’d ever let them behind my protective shell. Hard lessons aren’t easily forgotten.

But right now, my body is winning because I’m not running away.

I’m leaning in.

God, he’s amazing with his mouth. When Brock tilts my head back and deepens the kiss, my heart pounds even harder.

How is that even possible? What’s happening inside my chest has to be unnatural.

Those hands… yowza. The way he wraps his fingers around my jaw…

When his other hand slides around to my low back, I’m instantly putty under his heated touch. I’m on fire from head to toe. It’s a wonder the wall behind me doesn’t combust.

I should run. I should protest. I should resist. But I’msonot able to do any of those things.

I want one thing. Him touching me. Even if this is the WORST idea ever. Kissing Brock is foolish. I count offthe reasons in my head. Pathetically, because, even though the list should be long, I can’t seem to make this stop.

I’m not sure if it’s for a minute or an hour, but I let him show me all the delicious things that his tongue is capable of.

I’ll admit, for a good part of that time, I’m consumed with the question—What would he be like in bed?

God. He’d be all animal and heat. Commanding words and rough hands. Bites and licks. Pleasure and pain.

I’ve never dared sleep with a man like Brock. I’ve always played it safe. Nice guys who are squarely in the confident male zone but outside the alpha zone.

The idea of tumbling into bed with Brock is terrifying and thrilling. From the moment we met, everything about him felt off-limits.

He was older. Experienced. He had more rank as a firefighter. And more than anything, he was deadly sexy in a way that I had no experience with handling. Brock is the alpha of his kingdom. And I’m sure that includes his bed too.

To say I’m tempted by the man is the understatement of the century.

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