Book 2 in the Men of August series
On a hot summer night six years before, Brock August showed Sarah Tate a passion that would nearly destroy her. But fear and innocence drove her from his arms and into a marriage she neither wanted nor found happiness in. Now Sarah is free and she wants that night she lost. One night, a few stolen hours to know the heat and passion of the man she never forgot. But Brock has other plans in mind. A secret, a passion, a desire his brothers share. A desire Sarah will be unable to deny. That is, if she can escape the dark designs of the stalker intent on destroying the August men.
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1 . Excellent series
Posted May 30, 2010 by Terri , ColoradoSecond book in series was hotter than the first. Loved the chemistry between the characters and the storyline was definitely well written.
July 24, 2008
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Excerpt from Sarah's Seduction by Lora Leigh
Sarah was everything he wanted, everything he had dreamed of for over a year now. He had waited, put aside any thought of her until she turned eighteen, ignored his rising lust each time she smiled at him. Just as he now ignored the little voice in his head that said she was still too young. Much too young for what he needed from her.
But how could he resist her any longer? His body ached for her, his cock throbbed with a constant erection, his hands itched to stroke her silken skin. He was starving for the touch, the taste of her, and could no longer deny himself the pleasure he knew he would find in it.
So, he watched and he waited, planning just the right time, just the right way to draw her to him. She wanted him; he could see it in the soft golden brown eyes, the flush that mounted her cheeks when she looked at him. The way her hands trembled and her breasts rose and fell with her quickened breathing.
And he knew when she left the party after receiving his note to search the shadows of the house for him, that she needed him, too.
"Sarah?" He moved from where he hid as she stepped hesitantly toward him. "Where's your shadow?"
Mark Tate had been damned near impossible for him to get rid of.
"Mark?" She bit her lip nervously, glancing back at the corner of the house as though afraid the other man would suddenly appear. "He went off to the barn with some of his friends." She turned back to him, watching him intently in the dim light of the full moon. "He's just a friend, Brock."
Mark wanted to be more. Brock was determined he wouldn't be.
"I was afraid you wouldn't come." He moved closer to her, feeling the warmth of her body that seeped into that cold, dark place in his heart.
He watched as she swallowed tightly, her big brown eyes following him, looking up at him as he stopped within an inch of pressing against her heaving breasts.
"You asked me to come," she whispered on a sigh. "You knew I would be here."
Her admission was like a fist of desire to his loins. Brutally sharp, agonizing in its intensity.
"Will you come for me every time I ask?" He was more than aware of his play on words.
Sarah frowned, her face turned up to him, her lips tempting him. "If I can."
God, she was too innocent for him. Too soft, too vulnerable.
"You have no idea how much I want you, Sarah," he told her, fighting to keep his voice soft, tender. "How desperately I want to touch you."
She took a deep breath. Her breasts brushed against his shirt, the light material of her sundress doing nothing to hide the hard little nipples beneath it. She licked her lips nervously, and Brock was lost.
"Come upstairs with me." He lifted his hand, touching the fall of dark blonde hair that brushed her bare shoulders. "I promise not to hurt you, Sarah. Whatever you want. Just come with me."
Her hand, small and graceful, the fingers slender with delicate pink nails touched his chest. He felt that touch clear to his soul. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, hungry.
"I'm nervous," she whispered. "What if I can't--"
He would explode, but he would accept it.
"Then I won't," he promised her. "Whatever you want, Sarah."
She was scared. He could see it in her eyes. Scared, but she wanted him, wanted him just as much as he needed her.
"Just us?" She asked the question almost fearfully. "Just me and you, Brock?"
Gossip was the spice of life. Had she heard the gossip, the truth of what he was?
"Just us, Sarah." He lowered his head until his lips could brush her temple as his hand smoothed up her bare arm.
He heard her breath catch, felt her body melt against him. He clasped her other hand in his as he moved back. He drew her into the house, then up the stairs to his room. The barbeque was in full swing outside. Laughter and music drifted into the house, though it seemed distant, unreal. The only reality for Brock was Sarah as she followed him up the stairs, down the hall and into the room he had prepared for her.
Tall, thick candles graced the walnut dresser and bedside tables. Their soft light spilled over her, creating a soft glow on her creamy skin. She trembled, a blush stealing over her cheeks as she glimpsed the bed, turned down and inviting.
"Sarah," he whispered her name as she halted in the middle of the floor. "I promise. Only what you want."
She followed him, her steps careful as he moved her to the bed.
"I've never--" Her voice shook.
"And you don't have to now." His cock was raging at him; his heart was breaking for her. "I just want to hold you, kiss you."
He needed her like sunlight. God help him, she brought light to his soul when nothing else had in years. He would do anything for her, kill to have her. But he didn't think he could survive another night without holding her.
He stopped by the bed, pulling her against his body, unable to wait another minute before he touched her. His lips covered hers, catching the breathy little moan that escaped as one hand clenched in her soft hair.
Her hands were on his shoulders, her soft belly pressing against his cock, and Brock knew he was on the edge of his control. He pressed his tongue to her lips, sinking into the dark velvet of her mouth as she shuddered against him. Her nails bit into his shoulders, her tongue tangled timidly with his, drawing him deeper in the maelstrom of pleasure that touching her evoked.
Moving slowly, his lips still covering hers, Brock lowered her to the bed. He wanted her until he couldn't breathe. Her skin was soft, her moans heady as he pulled his shirt from his shoulders, tossing it to the floor. Her cry was mingled with shock and pleasure as he lowered the bodice of her dress, pressing the hard points of her nipples into the muscles of his chest.
His lips were at her neck, nibbling, licking the fragrant skin as she trembled and gasped in his arms.
"I could eat you up," he growled, kissing a soft line to the rising mounds that tempted him. "Like candy, Sarah. Like a man starved for the taste of you. Just you."
A fever of need burned inside him. Lust had never been like this. It had never stolen his control, had never wiped the pain of his memories from his mind. It had never sent his heart beating so fast it shuddered through his body. It had never made him tremble from his hunger.
His lips reached her nipples and for a moment, he could do nothing but stare at the perfection he was ready to devour. The tips were hard, dark pink, the perfect mounds swollen and flushed as they rose and fell sharply from her agitated breathing. Watching the hard little points carefully, his tongue distended and swiped over the delicate bud experimentally.
He felt the muscles of her stomach clench beneath his hand, her hips bucking sharply.
"Brock?" There was fear and desire in her voice. A husky little moan of pleasure that frayed the last threads of his determination to go slow.
His head lowered, his mouth covering her nipple as his hands worked her dress from her hips. She arched to him, her hands locking in his hair as he began to suckle the engorged nipple. She was chanting his name and he was drowning in it. God help him, she was so hot, so soft and sweet he could barely breathe for it.
He let his tongue rasp her nipple as he sucked at it. He pushed the dress from her hips, down her legs, surprise flaring in him as she kicked the material free with an impatient move of her legs.
His hand smoothed up her thigh and she stilled. Opening his eyes, he moved with greedy hunger to her other breast, his gaze locking with hers. Her golden brown eyes were wide, dazed as she watched him. His hand neared the humid heat emanating from her cloth-covered cunt as his tongue licked her unattended nipple in slow strokes, his eyes never leaving hers.
Her head jerked, her eyes darkened. His hand covered the hot mound of her cunt and she cried out brokenly. The sound went straight to his cock. Lifting his hand from between her legs, Brock quickly worked his pants open. Careful to keep her pleasure building, he nibbled at the hardened tip of her breast as he worked his pants and underwear from his body.
He was so hard he wanted to scream from the agony. When he was finally free, finally naked, his hand went back to her thighs, his fingers running over the damp silk of her panties. She jerked in his arms, twisting against him now as her own hunger began to reach a fever pitch. Her eyes closed, and Brock couldn't help but watch her. Watch her cheeks flushing, her lips opening in a strangled gasp of pleasure as he moved the crotch of her panties aside, his fingers sliding into slick, damp honey.
"Sarah." Brock panted her name as he lifted his head from her breast.
He couldn't control his desire. His need to touch her. He had to have her. He had to taste the sweet honey of her or go crazy from it. He planted soft, sweeping kisses across her chest, her neck, back to her lips. She was hungry for him, her lips opened, her hands tightened in his hair as her hips arched to his fingers.
"So sweet," he growled against her lips, then stroked them as his fingers slid into the wet velvet crease between her thighs.
She stilled, her eyes opening again, staring up at him as she whispered his name beseechingly. His fingers moved slowly through the slick crease to circle her swollen clit slowly.
"Oh God, Brock." Her thighs opened wider, her hips pushing against his hand.
"You feel so good, Sarah," he whispered, desperate, his need to ease her, to draw her to him with his tenderness rather than the wild hunger driving him insane.
He clenched his teeth as her hands left his hair, moving to his shoulders. She was watching her hands now, smoothing them over his chest. Curiosity lit her expression, amazement washed over him in waves that she would draw such joy from touching him.
"Yes, Sarah," he groaned, hearing the fierceness of his voice. "Touch me. Please God, touch me."
His fingers moved through slick honey to the tender opening of her vagina. Her hands stroked his clenched stomach as he slid his finger shallowly into the tight, hot entrance.
Sarah cried out his name, her muscles clenching on his finger as her hand encountered the thick stalk of his cock rising to meet her fingers.
"Sarah, I have to have you." He was dying for her. The need was a white-hot agony radiating through his body. "Dear God, Sarah, please--"
His hand moved from between her thighs. He wanted to draw the panties from her hips, show her caution and tenderness. The sound of fabric tearing shocked his dazed senses but did little to cool the fever raging through his blood. The widening of her eyes, the glitter of excitement in them shocked him further. His sweet, shy Sarah liked having her panties ripped from her? What else, he wondered, would she like as well?
* * * * *
Sarah cringed inwardly from the excitement that flared through her body like a burst of heat as Brock ripped the panties from her hips. His face was a portrait in sensuality, his gray-blue eyes dark and hungry, intent. She could see the need in his expression, the rapid loss of control working through his body, and it thrilled her.
Her hand clenched at his shoulder, sun bronzed and hard from the tense muscles beneath as he stared down at her. His eyes were locked with hers, watching her, intent on her. Thick, black lashes were lowered over his eyes; his black hair was mussed about his face from her fingers.
"I want you, Sarah." His voice was hard, determined. "If we're going to stop this, now is the time to do it, baby. I may not be able to later."
His voice was incredibly gentle, at odds with the hard sensuality in his expression. His hand smoothed over her shoulder, her breast. Sarah arched in his arms, hearing the involuntary whimper that issued from her throat. His hands were so warm, they felt so good.
"Brock." She arched against him, feeling the heated length of his cock against her thigh, his hand as it smoothed over her body, setting up an electrical firestorm of need that she had no defenses against.
"Sarah, I need you so bad." His face buried in her neck, his lips tasting her skin like a man more than starved. Let me have you, Sarah. Please, let me have you."
His voice was tormented, his body tense.
Sarah moved against him, unable to halt her body's response to his plea. As his lips moved over her cheek, then took hers in a kiss that destroyed any objections she may have had, she could do no more than give into him.
Her lips opened to him, her tongue twining with his as he moved against her, pressing the hard length of his shaft against her thigh as he groaned into her lips. Her hands clenched at his shoulders as his chest rasped the tender tips of her breasts her neck arching as desperate kisses ran across her jaw, her neck. He licked his way to her breasts, but didn't stop there.
His hands roamed over her body as she tossed beneath alternate stinging nips and fiercely hot licks to her flesh. Each touch sent her spiraling higher, her fears of his possession overshadowed by the electric currents of arousal pulsing through her body now.
His lips moved to her abdomen, tongue stroking, then teeth nipping as she tossed against him. His touch moved lower then, his hands spreading her thighs as he went between them.
His head was moving below her hips, his breathing a hard, rumbling groan as he moved lower, then lower.
"Brock?" Sarah stilled, forcing her eyes opened, her breath catching at the hungry look on his face.
"I'm going to eat you like candy, Sarah," he whispered, his voice deep, dark. "Just liked I've dreamed of for months now."
His head moved, lowered, his hands arching her closer as his tongue swiped through the curl shrouded, slick folds of her cunt. Sarah cried out, her fingers clenching in the blankets as he did just as he promised her. He ate her. Every inch was stroked, licked, sucked. His tongue pushed inside her pussy with a slow, even stroke, drawing yet more of the thick liquid from her pulsing center.
Sarah was insane with arousal now. She bucked against him, pleading for more, desperate to still the raging fires burning through her body. Each second she could feel her body tightening further, reaching higher. She shuddered, gasping, begging. Then his lips enclosed her swollen clit, suckling lightly as his finger sank shallowly inside the humid depths of her throbbing pussy.
Sarah felt herself exploding, coming apart. Her eyes flew open, her first sight that of the doorway at the far side of the room and Brock's twin, Sam as he turned from them. In an instant she saw his arousal, his assurance, and Sarah knew the rumors about the August men were true.
She stiffened, fear washing over her, the hot slide of depraved excitement flaring inside her.
"No," she cried out desperately as Brock rose over her, pushing between her thighs, his cock stroking over her moist cunt lips as he positioned himself.
"Sarah?" He was breathing hard, fighting for control when her hands went to his shoulders.
She was desperate to escape. She had to leave, get out of here before he possessed her forever. Because God help her, she would never find the strength to deny him anything he wanted otherwise.
"No," she cried out again, mortifying tears brimming from her eyes, fear shaking her body as the thick, bulging head lodged at the entrance of her cunt.
"God, baby. Sarah." His voice was a cry of pain, a desperate dark plea that shook her to soul. "Please, Sarah. Don't do this."
"Let me go." She couldn't control her cries, the soul shocking pain and fear that assaulted her now. "I can't. I won't, Brock. I won't do it. Please don't make me. Promise me you won't."
All he would have to do was ask her. She knew it. The flare of added arousal she had felt at the sight of Sam had shown her that.
"No, Sarah." He dropped his head, his expression tortured, tormented. "Don't do this."
She pressed at his shoulders, fighting to escape not just Brock, but also the dark needs rising inside herself. She was sobbing now, unable to stop the fear that overshadowed her arousal.
"God damn." His curse was fierce, angry as the head of his cock parted her, throbbed at her entrance. "Son of a bitch."
He jerked away from her. His curses sizzled the room, his fury was a like a beast, wild untamed.
"Go, damn you! Get the fuck out of here!" he yelled at her, his expression so angry, so dark and so filled with pain that Sarah couldn't bear the sight of it.
She jerked her dress from the floor as she jumped from the bed, stumbling in her haste, barely catching herself from falling. She struggled into it, crying, shaking as she rushed for the door.
"You'll be back, Sarah," he bit out as she rushed from the room. "I swear to God, I won't let you go."
Six years later
The bar was crowded, the music pulsing. The crush of bodies on the dance floor moved in a strange synchronization that amazed Sarah. After nearly a full hour hiding in the shadows, she was still in awe of the limber bodies on the floor. When she wasn't watching the man she had come to find, that is. She sat in the corner, nursing a warm bottle of beer, her gaze flickering from the dancers to the object of her lust who stood a good twenty feet away from her.
Tall and well muscled, he exuded testosterone. A perfect male in his prime, his muscular body shown off to perfection in the snug jeans he wore, and the gray striped, cotton dress shirt. A wide leather belt circled his slim hips and hard stomach. Propped against one of the wide, wooden posts that separated the dance floor and the table area, his casual position shouted confidence. The position he assumed was mouth-wateringly sexy. All that hard muscle lounging comfortably, arms crossed over a wide muscular chest, long, masculine legs crossed at the ankle, leading to muscled thighs that framed a more than impressive male bulge. She swallowed tightly. She knew exactly how impressive that bulge actually was.
Turning her gaze from him, Sarah remembered years ago, a stolen night, hard, hot kisses in the silence of his room, and the thick, hard erection beneath those well-worn jeans. It made her body heat alarmingly, remembering his touch. His hands, work roughened on her sensitive young breasts, between her thighs. His fingers sliding through thick moisture, his voice humming with approval as his fingers penetrated, then stopped at the evidence of her innocence.
Then his mouth. Her eyes closed as she remembered that hot, seductive mouth and the fear that washed over her as he threw her into her first and only orgasm. He had lapped at the rush of moisture, holding her hips still as his tongue dipped into her vagina, penetrating her, eating her decadently. His mouth had been hot, his tongue voracious, the sounds of his pleasure vibrating against her clit in a manner that had her crying out in bliss over and over again.
She had opened her eyes then and behind him she had seen the identical version of the man whose tongue had lapped so desperately at her flesh. Brock's twin, Sam. He had been turning away, but Sarah had seen a look, an assurance in his eyes that terrified her.
You'll be back, Sarah. I won't let you go! The memory of his last words to her six years before whispered through her mind.
She shook her head, fighting the betraying weakness that she had assailed her then as well. She took a long drink of the beer, grimacing at the warm taste. What the hell was she doing here? What made her think she was any braver now than she had been then? That she was any more accepting. What made her think he would even want to touch her now, an older version of that scared little girl, helpless in the face of her own passions and the fears that made her run? She had been eighteen, Brock had just celebrated his twenty-fifth birthday. Six years. She sighed. He was more handsome at thirty-one than he had been when he was younger. More handsome and decidedly more dangerous.
"Hello, Sarah." She froze at the sound of that dark, male voice. There was no mistaking the rough timber of it, the dark intoxication of hearing it roughen with lust.
The breath stilled in her chest, birds wings, not butterflies, beat at her stomach. She felt the wet evidence of her desire for this man pulse from between her thighs. Sarah swallowed past her nerves and allowed her eyes to rove over his masculine form. Up. Up. Past the thickened bulge, noticeably larger now, over the flat abdomen and wide chest, up to the dark, blue-gray eyes that watched her with arousal.
The muscles in her stomach bunched, tightened. Fingers of arousal danced over her breasts, teased her inner thighs. She felt her breathing deepen as lust lanced through her body. It was like a mild electrical shock being sent through her entire system.
It had been years since she had allowed herself to be anywhere near him. She had avoided any place he could be, went the other way if she saw him coming. She had avoided him for so long that it became a habit. A need. She knew if she was in his company for longer than a second, then she would be begging him to fuck her. It amazed her that he had approached her now. Amazed and terrified her.
"Hi, Brock. It's been a while." She tilted her beer in a small, courageous gesture before tipping it to her lips and taking a long drink. False courage. She needed it badly.
She wasn't normally a bold person, or a forward one. She had always been the one hugging the corners at parties, reluctant to step out. How she managed to get up enough nerve to come to the bar in the first place, she wasn't certain. It had been an impulsive move to take this one night for herself. Just one night. A night to remember, to hug close to her during the long, lonely nights to come.
"Have a cold one." He set a chilled bottle in front her, then swinging a leg over the back of the chair, sat down across from her.
The graceful male movement had her breath catching in her throat. The loose limbed straddle, the shrug of his shoulder, the wry tilt of his lips. Not quite a smile, but the hint that it could be if he could get past the shadows that lurked in his eyes.
Sarah slid the empty bottle over and picked up the cold one. She lifted it to her lips and sipped. The bitter bite wasn't pleasant, but she knew the much-needed salve to her nerves would be welcome when it hit. When breaking out of one's shell, one needed to do it right.
"Thanks." Her eyes flickered to his, then back to the bottle. He had only grown more handsome in the past six years. Where she had just grown older. His face, strong-boned and cut into firm, determined lines, showed a man who knew a little too much and had seen more than his share of pain. His dark hair was overly long, brushing the collar of his white shirt. It was black, glistening like midnight silk and tempted her hands to run through it.
"I haven't seen you in a while." Six years. The thought strained at her nerves.
The secluded corner gained them a measure of quiet from the band at the front of the room, keeping him from having to yell at her. His voice was still raised though, the husky timber stroking over her.
She looked into his eyes; saw the measuring, considering look there. He would push her. But he still wanted her. God, so much had changed in six years. Why hadn't the desire that pulsed between them dissipated as well?
She shook her head, glancing quickly at him, then back to the bottle as she shrugged, biting her lower lip enough to make it smart.
"I've been busy." Stupid was more like it.
She squelched the flare of anger. Mark, her ex-husband, had kept her home, convincing her that was where a good wife stayed. The truth was, his cheating was so extensive he had been terrified someone would finally tell her. No one had to tell her what a fool she was. She knew the first week they were married. A completely blind, misguided, stupid fool. Strangely enough, she wasn't hurt in the least, just embarrassed. Embarrassed, humiliated and totally ashamed. Three progressions that left a taste more bitter than the beer in her mouth.
"So, you aren't busy anymore?" There was a thread of amusement in his voice, a question that went beyond the words.
Her gaze met his. She read the speculation, the sexual intent they contained. She held the look for long seconds before her gaze lowered. Her fingers picked at the paper on the front of the bottle for a minute before she shook her head.
"No." She tipped the beer up for another drink, swiped at the fringe of long bangs that drifted over her forehead. "I'm not busy anymore, Brock."
What was she doing? Was she insane? The cautious, frightened part of her screamed the question. Jump up. Run away. She wasn't about to. She had deliberately come to this bar, sat here for nearly an hour, waiting. For six years the memory of one night had tormented her, the incompleteness of the act driving her mad with the need to finish it.
She licked her lips, fighting her nervousness, then tipped the beer up for another long drink. At the same moment, her eyes met his once again. She swallowed the beer hard, then took another for added courage. His eyes were hot, heavy lidded, his firm, finely molded lips just a bit full, the expression on his face intense as he concentrated on her lips. He looked sensual, hungry. She knew his sexual appetite was said to be voracious. She shivered in yearning.
She ran her tongue over her lips and wanted to whimper as she set the bottle down. His eyes followed each movement she made. When it disappeared into her mouth once again, his eyes rose slowly to meet hers. She was caught. Trapped like a deer by a bright light, helpless, bound by the sheer sexuality he exuded. It vibrated through her system, soaking into the pores of her skin until she felt sensitive, overheated.
She wanted him and he knew it. Sarah could see that knowledge in the heavy lidded, dark look he gave her. He could feel it, just as she could. Like a physical wave of energy coming off them both.
"Still scared, Sarah?" He mouthed the words more than he spoke them.
He had no idea just how scared. She trembled beneath his look, remembered the lava-hot sensations that poured through her body so many years ago. The loss of control, the desire, the need to give this man whatever he wanted, any way he wanted it.
"Terrified," she answered in the same manner.
His gaze held hers. She watched shadows shift in his eyes, emotions so fleeting she couldn't decipher them flashed through his gaze. Then resignation, acceptance settled into his expression. As though he too knew that the memories of that hot summer would never just go away. Sarah was afraid giving in would only make it worse as well.
"Dance with me." He rose to his feet, holding his hand out to her.
Sarah looked at it, so hard and broad, then into his eyes as she reached out slowly. He pulled her from her chair as a haunting ballad filled the air. The words of Gary Allen, whispering how he would prove he was the one, began. Her breath caught in her throat as Brock took her into his arms at the edge of the dance floor, pulling her tight against him.
Heat and the scent of masculine arousal enfolded her. His arms were strong, protective, causing her heart to clench painfully with the realization that one of her greatest needs over the years was being fulfilled. She was in his arms again. The remembered feeling of security, of peace and longing rushed over her in a fiery wave of sensation so intense she wanted to cry. His chest was broad, hard, but he cushioned her against it with tender hands. The remembered feel of his bare flesh caressing her breasts made her nipples harden. He had danced with her in his room that night, slowly removing her clothes as his lips possessed hers, his body weaving in hypnotic circles to the slow, sultry beat of the music outside.
His erection was like a brand on her lower stomach. His arms wrapped around her waist, leaving her to place hers at his shoulders. One big hand lifted to hold her head to his chest. His heartbeat was hard and imperative beneath her ear, his chest rising and falling with swift motions as his hands rubbed over her back, slow and easy. If he kept this up, she would be a boneless pleading idiot in minutes.
"Are you playing with me, Brock?" she whispered as he gripped her hips, moving to the music in a way that pressed his hips more firmly against her, making her breath catch in her throat, her vagina to clench, weep in urgent demand. Please God, she prayed, don't let him be playing with her, she didn't think she could stand the tormenting demand of her body much longer.
"Maybe I should be asking you that question." They turned around the dance floor, ignoring the other couples, drifting in a haze of warmth and arousal.
He bent his head, nuzzling her neck, his lips smoothing over the skin beneath her ear. She shivered, her nails biting into his shoulders as fiery sensations wracked her body. She breathed in harshly, a strangled whimper startling her when it came from her throat.
His lips were warm and rough, the moist rasp of his tongue nearly sent her into climax then and there. He licked seductively with each movement of his lips against her skin, driving her insane with the heat that spread through her veins. Her womb contracted, her heart beat hard and loud.
"Are you finished running from me, Sarah?" He nipped the lobe of her ear as though in retaliation for the lost time.
"Was I running?" she gasped. "I thought I was married."
He tensed. The corded muscles in his body tightened instantly.
"Don't remind me of that, Sarah," he warned her cautiously. "I'm trying real hard to forget it."
His fingers clenched at her hips, not painful, but forceful, grinding her body against his as the song came to its last, pulsating note. Sarah lifted her head as Brock paused, staring down at her. She was breathing hard and she knew her expression was filled with the pleading desperation raging through her body. So long. It had been so long since he had touched her, held her. She needed him, and God help her, she needed him now.
"Let's finish that beer." His hand settled on her back as he led her back to the table...