Page 9 of The Firebrand
Then he growled.
Holy shit.
Everything about him warned her to run. Her feet, however, stayed planted.
Her fingers betrayed her. They cupped his neck to play in his black hair, slid up to trace a scar that slashed through his brow, and drifted downward to glide along granite cheekbones. One finger mapped his full lips, sculpted from ice but hot enough to melt bones.
Talk about mixed metaphors.
The fierce stranger stood still, allowing her to explore. Then he tensed. When his stony blue eyes flashed an alert, Braelyn snapped back her hand.
But he caught her wrist in a lightning-fast action, grabbed the other, and held both above her. Trapped between the wall and his unyielding body, she lifted her chin to stare at his parted lips.
Another growl.
Braelyn’s lashes fluttered Scarlett O’Hara style. “Are you going to kiss me again?”
“Is that what you want?” His deep voice dripped over her flesh like warm, gooey honey.
“Yes.”
So close that his hot breath whispered across her cheek, his lips traveled down her neck, leaving a trail of fire. An aphrodisiac against her skin, his stubble-rough jaw and sharp nipping teeth spread chills from her toe ring to the top of her spiky hair.
He released her hands but clamped onto her hips, hauling her closer.
Braelyn meant to push the lethal man away from her. Instead, she rose on tiptoe, cradled his head, and brought him in for the promised kiss.
Hell. I’m dying anyway.
Her mouth covered his. Fireworks on the Fourth of July. Tchaikovsky’s1812 Overture. The Las Vegas Riviera Hotel implosion.Braelyn responded to the combustible, demanding kiss by throwing both arms around his neck.
She rubbed her aching breasts against his chest, friction from the sheathed weapons hardening her nipples into buds. When she gasped, his tongue plunged into her mouth, where he seduced her with a mimicry of a sexual act so intimate that her eager response was shocking. She opened wider, relishing his repeated thrusts, demanding he go deeper.
He was hungry, dominating, feral. While he explored, setting an erotic rhythm, her body ached for more. With shameless moans, she massaged his swollen cock with her belly, his hips getting into the action as they gyrated back and forth.
When his hand cupped her ass, Braelyn uttered a breathy whisper. “Yes.”
He lifted her into place.
As the stranger’s arousal ground against Braelyn’s fiery core, wetness gathered between her thighs. They were going to fuck right here in a public alley. In another second, her sweats would be around her ankles.
Braelyn wasn’t prudish, but sex with a man should at least follow a date and conversation. This guy had not only foregone wining and dining her but had also not exchanged any tidbits about his personal life.
Wait a minute. Get a grip!
Braelyn broke from the passionate kiss, panting. “What the hell?” As she sucked in rapid, jagged gulps, she shoved both hands against the hypnotic stranger’s chest. “This is not happening.”
Not budging, he clutched her tight against his hard need. His answer was a deadly but seductive smile as he repeated her words. “This is not happening?” Lips to her ear, his breath hot, he whispered, “Don’t challenge me, female. If I want this to happen, it will happen.”
She froze.
He tightened his bruising grip as if to prove his point. But slowly he relaxed his hold, letting her slide down his leg, taunting her aroused sex.
Lightheaded, Braelyn wobbled when her feet struck the ground. But when a hand clasped her elbow, she shook it off.
Without uttering a word, he rested his palm on her temple again. She felt pressure, as if an insidious vine wrapped around her brain. With little effort, she weed-wacked it.
“Knock it off! Are you checking my temperature? Or are you some pervert who wanders alleys, kissing strangers and feeling their foreheads? I’m out of here.” Braelyn wiggled away from his feverish body.
