Page 4 of Brick (Chosen Few #5)

Her fingers stilled on a handful of fries. Her big blue eyes lifted to his—and hell, she had the most gorgeous irises. Deep, vibrant blue outlined with navy. Her thick, dark eyelashes moved down and then up slowly, allowing him to picture her sleepy-eyed in bed.

She tossed the fries in her mouth, then wiped her hands on the napkin and dropped it on the plate. “Breakfast won’t work. But maybe we can continue this at your hotel?”

If his elbows weren’t on the table, he’d have fallen off his damn stool. Salt from the French fries hit the back of his throat and he coughed awkwardly, then reached for his glass again.

She waited. Her stare filled with uncertainty. “Sorry. We can just part ways—”

“No.” His voice croaked from the coughing fit that wanted to erupt from his chest. He grabbed her hand and cleared his throat. “No,” he said, more convincingly. “I enjoy talking with you. And Natasha,” he said, sweeping his thumb over her knuckles. “Just talking is fine with me.”

Her small pink tongue edged over her bottom lip. “I’d like that.”

***

“This one up ahead,” Brick said, his long, brawny finger pointing toward a hotel.

She parked in the lot—no way she’d use valet.

Not when she needed to get to her car easily.

What the hell had she been thinking inviting herself to his hotel room?

In the bar, their easy chatting and his outlandish flirting had been fun and easygoing.

Brick had a strange way of settling her nerves.

And he also kindled a heat in her body that she’d thought had been long since snuffed out.

Okay, so she was tempted to see how far things could go with this hot soldier. She needed to feel good for once. Wanted.

But leaving the dim lighting and noise of the bar and entering the frigid air had sobered her already alcohol-free brain. She was here now, though. Hopefully he wasn’t a serial killer.

At this point, did it matter? The man she’d fled was surely far worse than this grinning giant next to her. She reached for the keys in the ignition and his hand landed on her forearm, stopping her.

“You don’t have to come up.” His gentle tone made some of the tension leave her shoulders. “Really. We had a nice dinner, and I’d like to see you again. That doesn’t mean—”

“I want to.” Because god help her, she did. From the moment he’d given her that handsome, lazy smile on the ice, she’d been a goner. She’d enjoyed the dinner, the flirting. And now... she wanted more.

She’d never felt interesting before. But the way Brick spoke to her made her feel as if she didn’t have to try to be anyone else.

Which was the biggest joke because that was exactly what she was doing.

Pretending to be Natasha Smith. Self-disgust filled her.

It wasn’t fair. She’d finally met someone kind and funny, someone safe, and she couldn’t even tell him her real name.

With this man, she didn’t have to walk on eggshells—she could be playful and funny without worry he’d lash out.

But for reasons that had nothing to do with him, she had to use an alias.

His fingers brushed her cheek, gently moving her hair away from her jaw. His knuckles grazed her skin, and she leaned into him. God, his touch was so kind. Not a hint of bite or expectation.

He leaned in as well, his lips hovering close to hers.

Her eyelids fluttered, and desire warmed her panties.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, soft and breathless.

She nodded.

His mouth touched hers, firm yet featherlike. His heady, masculine scent floated to her nostrils. Leather and spice, a dangerously seductive aroma.

She brought her hand to his neck and pulled him closer over the console. The wall of his chest brushed her breasts, making her ache to rip off her shirt and bring them skin to skin.

His lips parted and his wet tongue glided over hers. She groaned, deepening the kiss. His hand came to rest at her waist.

God, she wanted him.

Brick had the odd effect of making her feel safe. Which was outrageous considering he was a stranger. He hadn’t pried, he hadn’t pushed... yet when she’d mentioned her ex, his face had darkened with an unspoken language.

Protectiveness.

Part of her wanted to bare it all. To tell him the sordid details of her life story, but not only would that send him for the hills, she simply didn’t have the time nor energy. No, this time with Brick was sacred. She wouldn’t tarnish it.

She pulled away, panting. “Can we go up to your room now?” Good lord, was that her voice that sounded so desperate?

Inches away, Brick’s chest rose and fell.

“I’m ready when you are. But if there’s someone you want to text or call to let them know where you are and who you’re with, I’m fine with that.

Because as happy as I am that you want to hang out with me longer, I hope to hell you’d be careful with a stranger. ”

She rolled her lips together, once again struck by his thoughtfulness. Then her cheeks burned. Now she really feared he thought her desperate—he was the one slowing her down and making sure she made wise decisions. “I mean... I was supposed to text my sister anyway,” she managed.

He chuckled. “Take your time.”

She reached for her purse on the passenger seat, a tentative smile on her face. “Not that I think you’re a serial killer or anything,” she added.

“I’m not. But stranger things have happened.”

She texted Ellie to let her know she’d met someone for dinner and was visiting his hotel, then provided the address.

All the while, her hands shook with need.

A deep pulse, low in her belly, filled her with expectation.

It’d been so long since a man had shown her so much kindness—the less he pushed her, the more she pulled.

Ellie immediately replied, but she ignored it. “She’s not going to let me live this down,” she said with a chuckle.

Brick laughed and got out. She followed and met him in front of the car.

“Tell me more about your sister,” he said, as they walked to the hotel lobby. Although he sounded genuine, she suspected he was trying to prevent awkward silence from wedging itself between them.

She shrugged. “Ellie and I are really close.” She shot him a withering look. “So if you kill me, she’ll hunt you down.”

He lifted his hands. “Hey, I offered breakfast at the airport. If either of us is a serial killer, it’s you. You strong-armed me to take you to my hotel.”

She rolled her eyes. “The one time in my life I come on strong and it just happens to be with the dude who’ll throw it back at me.”

He winked. “I take it back. Come on as strong as you like, darling.”

Heat crawled up her neck, warming her cheeks.

They walked through the lobby and reached the elevators.

In moments, they landed on the eighth floor and the doors whooshed open.

He led her to room814, took out a key card, and flashed it in front of the sensor.

The lock beeped and turned green and he pushed open the door.

A neat and tidy space met her. The large king bed took up most of the room, and the window overlooked downtown.

“Can I take your coat?” His hands came to her shoulders and lightly touched the material.

She nodded.

His fingers brushed down her arms as he helped her shrug out of the jacket, which he hung in the closet next to his. “Do you want anything? Coffee? Tea?”

The fact he didn’t offer booze made any doubt left inside her shrivel right up. She moved closer to him, bringing her front to his.

Brick stiffened, then his hands went to her back. One large palm splayed over the curve in her spine.

“Is that what you brought me here for? Tea?” she asked, as she let her body mold against the strong contours of his.

He reached up to thread a hand through her hair. The feel of his rough callouses against her scalp sent tiny shockwaves over her nerve endings.

His lips curved into a sinful smile. “Honey, my flight doesn’t leave for another ten hours. I can spare time for a cup of tea if you need it.”

She rose onto her tiptoes until their lips almost touched. “I need more than tea, Brick Slater.”

The hand at her back delved down to catch her ass, pulling her groin against his. Like two puzzle pieces snapping into place, their hips and mouths connected. She closed her eyes. Sparks shot behind her lids.

Her mouth filled with his taste, warm and manly. His fingers moved expertly over her jeans covering her thighs. He turned and pressed her back against the wall. His palms settled at her sides, just beneath the hem of her shirt.

He paused. Slight tremors racked his shoulders, as though he was holding back. The breadth of his hands around her waist made her feel tiny. And for some reason that was ubersexy.

“Can we take this off?” he asked, nudging her shirt up a fraction.

Anticipation drew the moisture away from her mouth.

She lifted her arms. He pulled the shirt over her head with ease and dropped it to the floor.

She stood in front of him in her blush-colored bra.

The cool air of the hotel room washed over her skin, making goosebumps pucker on her arms. Her nipples pressed against the thin material, brazenly saying hi and wanting his attention.

He dragged two of his fingertips over the lip of her bra. “You’re gorgeous,” he breathed, his voice strained.

Her belly tightened. Call her a sucker, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d received a half-decent compliment.

Energy rippled between them. She tugged at his T-shirt. “Your turn.”

He grinned, and the lopsided smirk made her loins dance. He crossed his arms, caught the material at his hips, and dragged it over his head, giving her a delicious view of all that tanned, hard muscle in action.

“Mmm.” She couldn’t have stopped the low sound of appreciation if she’d tried. She ran her fingers over the crevices of his abdomen.

He leaned forward, pinning one of his hands on the wall near her head and the other near her waist, neither touching her—which was a damn shame.