“Then I would have come to you.” He rose from his chair, stepping close, ignoring her when she stepped back nervously. “I was tired of waiting, Sarah.”
“I was married. You didn’t even know about the divorce.” Censure edged her words, despite her determination to hold it inside.
He smiled, a small, crooked little quirk of his lips that broke her heart. That was his smile, and there was no joy in the gesture.
“It didn’t matter,” he whispered, coming around behind her, bending close so his breath feathered her ear. “I didn’t care anymore, Sarah. Need for you was killing me.”
“And you’ve had me.” She gasped as the clip holding her hair up was released, allowing the thick strands to fall to her shoulders. “Stop that, Brock.”
“I haven’t had enough, Sarah,” he growled, his hands enclosing her hips.
Sarah breathed out in a harsh motion. His hands at her waist were hard and warm. His breath at her ear sent shivers over her skin. She wanted to turn to him so desperately she could barely stop herself from doing it.
“It has to be enough.” She fought for breath, her hands clasping his. She intended on pushing him away in just a minute.
“Was it enough for you?” She felt his erection at her back as he moved against her. “Don’t you want to scream again, Sarah? Explode around me while I thrust my c**k deep in your tight little cunt. Feel me come inside you. I want to come inside you, Sarah. I want to feel you milking me, squeezing my c**k as we explode together.”
Her face flamed, her vagina ached.
“No,” she lied.
He chuckled, the sound a velvet rasp at her ear.
“Lying to me or to yourself, baby?” he asked her, gentle, soft, his voice like a caress over her body as his fingers began to smooth over her waist.
Sarah hated the light, gray-blue silk of her dress that kept his fingers from touching her skin.
“This isn’t going to work.” She gasped for breath. Damn him, why didn’t she have any resistance against him? “You know it won’t, Brock. You know why.”
“I know you won’t let me talk to you.” His teeth nipped at the skin of her neck in an erotic bite.
Sarah whimpered. It felt so good. She wanted more.
He bit her again, experimentally. A shudder wracked her body, her muscles weakened, flowing against him.
“Sarah, I want you. Bad.” He licked the small wound, whispering against her skin. “Let me inside you
again. Let me show you how much I need you.”
She could feel how much he needed her. His c**k throbbed beneath his jeans, searing into her lower back. His hands moved along her waist as he pulled her behind the high counter separating her work area from the main library.
“Brock,” she protested as he turned her in his arms, lifting her to the desk as he moved quickly between her thighs.
She stared up at him, wide-eyed, uncertain in the face of such strong sexual intent.
“You’re so beautiful.” His hands clasped her face, his head lowering, his lips sipping at hers. “You make me crazy, Sarah, remembering how hot and wet you get for me. How your screams echo around me.”
“Brock, please.” Her hands gripped his, her lips opening, seeking more of the light touches he bestowed.
“Please what, baby?” He licked her lips, making her heart stutter in excitement. “Tell me what you want.”
He pressed his h*ps against her, grinding his c**k in the vee of her thighs.
“You’re taking me over,” she cried out, her hands gripping his shirt now, fighting for strength.
“I want to take you, period,” he growled. “Right here, right now, Sarah.”
“Oh God. Someone will see.” But she couldn’t deny him as his hands pushed her skirt up her thighs, smoothing over her flesh, heating her.
His hands clenched at the bend of her legs.
“Ashamed of me, Sarah?” he asked her, his voice expressionless.
“Of you?” Surprise filled her. “Not you, Brock. Of being seen. Please, I don’t do this. I don’t want everyone seeing me.”
She felt the heat in her face, knowing gossip would go wild. Sarah Tate, seen in the arms of Brock August, which wasn’t that bad. The bad part would be if he were seen taking her.
He moved back fractionally.
“Let me take you home then. Let me make love to you, Sarah.”
He didn’t release her, didn’t give her room to think. His voice pitched low, his expression filled with male arousal, a male plea as old as time.
She wanted to. She wanted to so bad it was a physical ache centered hot and sharp between her thighs, deep inside her body.
“It will only make it worse.” She was desperate to make him see reason. “Don’t you understand, Brock? I can’t accept what you’ll want from me. I can’t do it.”
“You don’t understand, baby.” He ran his fingers over her cheek, his thumb glancing her lips. “ I just want to touch you. Hold you. That’s all I want, Sarah. Just you and me. No one else.”
“What about later?” She pushed away from him. If she didn’t get away from him, she would have no resistance left. “What will you want from me next, Brock?”
She saw what he wanted in his eyes. They darkened at the thought, flaring with a heat that nearly seared her.
“Why are you so scared?” He leaned against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched her with those hot eyes. “It seems to me you’re more scared that you’ll want it, Sarah.”
Sarah ignored the hot flare of guilt that surged through her. That wasn’t it, she assured herself. She didn’t want it. And she sure as hell knew she couldn’t handle it.
“You’re insane,” she burst out in shock. “That’s not true.”
“I want you to remember one thing, Sarah, and remember it well,” he warned her with pseudo-tenderness. “I didn’t come looking for you. You came looking for me. You gave up the right to deny that you suspected what was coming.”
“I wanted one night,” she protested. “That was all.”
“That’s bullshit.” His hand sliced through the air as he advanced on her once again. “You aren’t a one night stand, Sarah. You never were. I knew that six years ago and I knew it the other night. Don’t start pretending now.”