Gambled - A Titan Novella (5 page)

“Brock,” she called, keeping up with his quick pace. “Brock.”

They reached inside; air conditioning bathed across his heated skin that had nothing to do with the tropics. He turned and raked a gaze over her body. Seclusion. Needed. Now.

Nowhere met his criteria. Wasn’t there a flyer’s club? Meeting rooms? An isolated gate with rows of empty chairs was ahead. It’d be good enough until he regrouped.

They reached the semi-insulated area, and he spun around to face the vixen he didn’t know as well as he should. Brown eyes flared; flecks of copper sparkled. Her face was so familiar but suddenly so different. Long eyelashes and a tiny, heart-shaped face peered up. Lips that she licked when she was nervous, licked when she was turned on. Lips that she licked right now.

“Angel.” He inhaled through his nose, trying to slow his roll. Mauling her in an airport probably wasn’t high on her recover-rebuild list. His mind flashed back to her notes. Well, maybe it was.
I want us to be more spontaneous. I want the superhero to come home and take me. Nothing to do with being his wife. Everything to do with uncontrollable testosterone.

He treaded choppy water. One wrong move and it could all end with her jabbing her finger into his chest, reminding him how he’d let them down. “Sarah. You didn’t write down a lot about surviving an abduction. About feeling traumatized.”

“Nope. I didn’t.”

Her breasts were perked, the rise and fall of her chest mirroring his. They stood inches apart, and he came closer. Hands on her shoulders, sliding down her arms, anchoring on her waist. She didn’t flinch. No pulling away this time. “I’m going to say or do the wrong thing. Then you’ll peel out, leaving me with a hard-on in an airport. Alone.”

“I’m barely listening to you now. Don’t worry about it.”

Her honesty made him sway on his feet. “I can’t keep my hands off you.”

“Good.”

“Angel. Not what I expected.”

She nodded. “Think that’s been the problem.”

A growl rumbled in his chest. “I didn’t know there was a
problem
.”

“Fine.” Her tongue wicked over her bottom lip again. “Wrong word.”

“Tell me the right one.”

“
More
,” she whispered, smooth as silk.

Same word, better context. It made him growl, again. He didn’t ask. Wouldn’t hesitate. Not now. It’d been too long since he’d tasted her. Since he’d held her hungry little body against his.

“What changed, Sarah? You went to sleep pissed. And now…”

“And now I can’t breathe for wanting you. I woke up, and your eyes were on fire. You haven’t looked at me like that in years. All need. All want.”

Hands still around her waist, he lifted her like she was nothing, and her fingers knotted into his hair. Her lips brushed against his, smooth and luscious. He bit the bottom one, sucked it into his mouth. Released and bit again.

Her purr danced over his mouth, followed by an enslaving slash of her tongue. The harder he kissed her, the more she gripped his hair, pulling at his scalp and driving him on. Feasting. Devouring. Ravenous. Their mouths dueled, their tongues chased. She tasted of spearmint, welcoming his intensity. Primal, elemental, she floored him. Overwhelming in a way that made a furious desire drown out their surroundings.

Her hands jerked him to her
.
Hell yes, angel
. Anything she wanted. Fingernails pricked his scalp, dragging down to the back of his neck. Clawing as he kissed her.
I thought we had a spark before. She’s right. I’m wrong. We can get to more.

Hard, peaked nipples pressed into his chest. He backed to a row of chairs, falling back with her straddling his lap. He couldn’t breathe. Opened his eyes and couldn’t take them off her if he wanted. They burned copper-brown, staring deeply at him. Unblinking. Unwavering.

Her lips lingered on his. Harsh breaths tangled. Their chests galloped together, his heart slamming. They could stay in this seat, locked like this, together. Not sharing a word, not needing to, and everything would be communicated.

But still… He’d said it before, he’d say it again and again until he heard it back. “I’ve missed you.”

Sarah nodded, eyes on fire. “Hotel room?”

He hadn’t expected anything this fast. “Airport and resorts are on opposite sides of the island.” He cursed the logistics. “Two-hour drive. Dog-leg turns over potholes.” Not sexy or fast.

“Figure something out.”

Yes, ma’am.
He jumped up and set her down. Lacing her fingers into his, they took off down the corridor, his erection painfully evident and pushing into his jeans. They rounded the corner and found the driver he’d arranged for with their luggage piled on a cart, ready to go.

“Where’s your ride, man?” Brock stood an easy five inches over the uniformed chauffer and pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket. “For your troubles. I need to speak with my wife. Alone. Can you take a walk? Grab some coffee? I’ll find you once we’ve… talked.”

Without batting a questioning look, the driver directed them to go out the door and to a waiting, running Hummer. Brock took her hand and led her to the vehicle, exactly where the driver said it would be.

He pulled open the door and lifted her inside. “Up and in, angel.”

Sarah turned in the back seat, grabbing him by the shirt collar. “Spontaneous
and
public. You did read what I wrote.”

It’d been memorized, but right now he was acting on pure, instinctive need. Public, private, didn’t matter. This was them on
more
, and he liked it.

CHAPTER SIX

Sarah was tired of ignoring the little whispers in her head. The ones that fought for his attention while she tried to run away from him.

When she’d packed her belongings and moved out, the voices had said she needed to come to grips with what had happened, not run away from the man who’d do anything to save his family.

In the guest house, when he’d stalked close and she’d clawed the wall, those little voices had screamed for her to kiss him. Jump in his arms. Take and feel and do everything they’d been so good at while married.

And when Sarah had pushed herself, made herself write down everything she
really
wanted if they moved forward on their marriage reboot, the same little voices had given her a laundry list of feasts and exploits that she secretly dared to fantasize about but never shared.

Until today.

Now, Sarah and the sultry little voices in her head were in sync, and caveat one to staying married was to see if she could be all she wanted to be.

Brock possessed a hardcore edge to him. Brooding and dangerous. When he came home from Titan, she saw remnants of his darker side. She wanted to tap into that part of him. Now. Hormones spiked through her, traveling from her panted breaths to her womb.

She fisted his shirt tighter and pulled again. “I don’t want easy.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” His teeth were clenched, and he lumbered over her, closing the car door behind him.

Her thighs pushed wide open, her shorts had ridden up, pinching and pressing. The momentary pain did nothing but steel her breath, bait her for his touch. She needed this and flexed against him, trying to both alleviate and exacerbate the torturous swirls deep inside.

Her hands reached between them, found his belt clasp as he popped the button on her shorts, ratcheting her excitement up even more. They were on a mad dash. It was uncontrollable and incredible. His hands ripped up her silk shirt, pushing past the barrier of her lace bra. Never did she think they’d have sex in a car minutes after landing. But who cared? He was her husband.

Oh God.
Brock’s fingers cupped her breast. Massaging. Squeezing almost painfully tight. Pleasure and pain were what she craved. His fingers found her erect nipple and grazed over the tip. He teased and toyed while he loomed over her, rubbing his impressive length against her on the cramped confines of the back seat.

The man was huge. Smooth, beautiful steel. Perfect shaft. Perfect crown. He took her breath away after years of sucking, screwing, and dreaming about him.

He abandoned her nipple, snatching the fabric of her bra cups and dragging it below her breasts. Freed of their constraint, they reached for him and his head dipped. His mouth just as aggressive as his hand had been. He lavished her other mound. Biting, tormenting. Scratching his teeth over the fleshy weight until he found its center and drew her deep into his mouth.

Her body clenched. Senses roared to life, a tornado of climax building within her, traveling from nipple to clit. A sudden ambush of his fingers pushed past the lace of her thong and delved into her deeply. A welcome, violent intrusion.

“Yes,” fell from her lips. Her legs spread wider as he pumped his hand. His mouth abused her tit until she catapulted, screaming, moaning, crying in ecstasy.

“More.” He roared against her skin, pulled his hand free, and shucked her shorts down her legs. So fast, so abrupt the zipper scratched her thigh, and her shorts remained looped around an ankle. She pulled free the clasp of his buckle, yanked his pants down the solid slope of his ass. Hard and muscular, she dug her fingers into his flesh as he slammed into her. Pushing his cock deep inside, her body easily accepted his spear. All the way to the hilt, his sac slapped her as he entered and withdrew and pounded again.

“Fuck me, angel.”

Her eyes flew open. His face pure alpha. Smoky eyes blazing. Deep concentration straining on his face. She succumbed to the all-powerful look, melted into his complete ownership. One leg wedged against the back seat, the other wrapped around his driving thighs. She met him, matched him, stroke for stroke.

They spiraled higher together. Sweat soaked, moans grinding through kisses and bites. He gripped her ass, and deeper he drove, until she was blinded with need. Unable to see anything other than the onslaught of a terrifyingly powerful climax.

It hit her more strongly than she expected. Muscles spasming. Lungs heaving. Reaching for heaven and knowing it was in her arms. He buried deep, hot seed spilling into her. Penetrating her will. Marking her as his. This was what she wanted. More than they’d ever had. More emotion. More power. More strength. It pummeled her into a heaping, uninhibited mess as she rode her wave on his shaft, coming down in a wonderful, near-painful way.

Brock collapsed, crushing and holding her. Breathing against her, into her, for her.

Tears welled in her eyes. Unexpected. “I’ve missed you too.”

***

Eyelids sliding closed, muscles unflexing, Brock inhaled deeply. Summer and sunshine. The woman he feared he’d lost forever, the one he still had so much to learn about after so many years together, clung to him.

He sat up, righting both their clothes, and pulled her onto his lap. “You good?” Not knowing what else to say, he figured it had to sound better than
what now?

“Good.” She made a breathy, sated sound. “That was hot.”

A half grin curved up, and he gave a chuckle. “Yeah, it was, angel.”

“Different.”

He ducked his chin to press his lips on her forehead, letting them linger until she pulled away. “True.” They’d always had fireworks, but that’d just been TNT doused in gasoline.

“You think I’m crazy?” She wasn’t looking at him but out the tinted window. A cloud of uncertainty settled over her expression.

Cupping her chin, Brock drew her focus back inside. “Why would I think that?”

“Because one second, I don’t want to be married anymore. The next I’m asking for this.”

I bet she’s totally confused right now
. She probably felt erratic, bouncing from one emotion to the next. He’d practically needed a Xanax prescription after she’d walked out, but she’d been through worse, completely unprepared for it. “No, angel. Far from crazy.”

“Why not?”

Reasonable question. She could be sensitive to anything he might say and react differently than either of them wanted to. But Sarah had also been upfront about her needs, and from the admittedly small pieces he knew of traumatic stress recovery, she deserved to hear how he saw the truth, even if it was handled with kid gloves.

He needed a solid minute to recover from their back-seat escape. “Give me a second.”

He jumped out of the Hummer, found the driver, then returned. No telling how this talk would go, they might as well have it on the road where she wouldn’t leap out and run.

The Caribbean air cleared his head, centered his goals.
Rebuild our trust, reconnect our marriage
. Moments later, she was nestled back onto his lap, their luggage safely stowed, and the Hummer was looping S-turns on a pocked road.

Where to begin? “The only reason you might be crazy is for putting up with me all these years. Imposing restrictions on our family. I’ve been a dick—”

“Not a dick. I easily could’ve questioned why and how we lived.”

“But you’re not crazy. Not for lashing out at me. Blaming me.” He brushed a lock of her hair off her cheek. “Hurt like hell though.”