“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 br**sts made her ni**les 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 h*ps 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 cl**ax 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.
CHAPTER TWO
Sarah was surprised. She had expected him to want to leave. She didn’t expect him to walk her back to the table and help her back into her chair. Then he sat in his and surprised her once again.
Brock moved, chair and all until he was crowding her into the corner. One arm went behind her back,
the other to the table as he leaned forward, blocking her from view of the other bar patrons. She felt enclosed, sheltered and warm as he surrounded her. At the same time she could feel excitement gathering, pooling, making her cunt slick and hot.
“How terrified are you, Sarah?” He whispered the words at her cheek now, staring into her eyes as an involuntary whimper issued from her throat.
Her ni**les hardened beneath her new dress, her br**sts swelling, straining the fragile buttons that held the bodice together. His gaze dropped to the rapid rise and fall, then returned slowly to her eyes. That single, hungry look electrified her. She wanted to beg him to kiss her, stroke her, f**k her until she couldn’t move.
“You should be outlawed,” she told him desperately as the hand that rested on the table moved to encase hers.
His long fingers caressed the sensitive skin of her wrist as the hand at her back began to rub several inches of her spine slowly. She wanted to arch against him, like a cat begging to be rubbed.
“How scared are you, Sarah?” He repeated his question, his expression intent as he watched her. “And be very certain that you tell the truth this time.”
Her chest tightened at his warning. He still wanted her. She could see it in his darkening eyes, feel it in the heat radiating off his body. Just like before. He enclosed them in his sexual need, his determination to have her. His hunger for her.
“Not scared enough,” she admitted desperately. “But scared, Brock. Real scared.”
She wouldn’t lie to him this time. Not now, not while she needed him like this. Like a hunger, an obsession that stole her breath. His hand rose to her neck, beneath the soft fall of her hair, cupping the back of her head as he urged her to look into his eyes once again.
“I won’t stop this time, Sarah,” he told her gently, but the expression on his face was savage. “Do you understand me? If I get your panties off again, I’ll f**k you, no matter how hard you cry. I won’t have the control to let you go.”
She had cried before. As he rose over her, his erection nudging the slick heat between her thighs, she had begged him to let her go as she pushed against his chest, fighting to be free. She remembered how hard he fought for control. The head of his c**k had buried inside her before he jerked away, cursing her, raging at her as she scrambled to her feet, jerked her dress on and stumbled from his room.
“I won’t beg you to stop.” That was all she could promise.
His jaw clenched, satisfaction flaring in his eyes. His hand went from the table to her thigh. She jerked in startled awareness as it moved slowly beneath her dress. A test? She swallowed hard, her chest suddenly tight, her breathing harsh as his fingers inched up her thigh. She looked into the crowd nervously, wondering who could see.