Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC 2)

Brock stared quietly for a moment as if he was letting my words sink in. “Baby, you are the most strong-willed, stubborn, brave and irritating woman I’ve ever met. You’re small but you take up an entire room. You aren’t afraid to be who you are and you’ve got this spark inside you that lights you from the inside out.” His hands grasped my neck. “No matter what happens with us that spark ain’t gonna go out. But trust me, I don’t intend on letting anything happen between us.”

I sucked in a breath, unsure of everything, and certain at the same time. I knew I loved this man who had waited around and still wanted me after everything that happened, but I still hesitated. When I first fell in love with Ian, despite my strong feelings against the sappy emotion, I was ready to jump in, to be with him. Then he broke my heart and I turned into one of those girls who I had strived to be different from. My shield that I had built growing up in a loveless family had cracked. I repaired it with time. But I knew that if something happened with Brock my shield wouldn’t just crack, it would shatter.

“Jesus Christ, you’re stubborn,” he muttered, sounding frustrated at having to wait through my inner monologue. He covered my mouth with his, kissing me like he had in the car earlier. But before he had been controlled, the flames that sparked between us contained. Now there was no control and the blaze whipped through me in a frenzy. He plundered my mouth, hands running all over me. He yanked my body against his and I moaned slightly at the feel of his hard on against my stomach. His hands squeezed and kneaded my ass. I ground my body against his, needing friction, needing to be closer. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I registered him backing us into a wall so he surrounded me, boxed me in. His mouth went to my neck.

“All I’ve been thinking about for months, fuckin’ months, is getting inside your sweet cunt again,” he growled in my ear, palming my breast. I barely restrained a moan as he tweaked my nipple. All I wanted was him inside me in that moment. “Fuck, baby, do you know how much I wish I could be in that pussy right now?” he murmured, reading my mind.

“You can,” I whispered, running my hand down to his belt.

He groaned and grabbed my wrist. “I’m hanging on by a fuckin’ thread here, baby. It’s taking all my willpower right now not to rip your clothes off and fuck you against the wall until you feel me in your throat,” he declared, voice rough.

Desire pooled in my stomach. “I wouldn’t object to that turn of events,” I whispered, struggling to undo his belt.

His hand was a vice. I pouted at him.

“I told you before, Sparky. When I fuck you it’s not going to be tender or careful. It’s going to be rough and hard and I’m going to possess every inch of you.” He swept his free hand up my waist to cup my breast roughly. I whimpered and his hand moved to cup my cheek. “But I’m not doing it while there’s any chance I could hurt you.” His voice was decisive.

“I’m fine,” I declared, yanking at his cut.

Brock shook his head. “No, baby. You’ve still got fuckin’ stitches holding your skin together and you can barely walk. You’re pale as a sheet and you’re exhausted after walking to the fuckin’ kitchen. You’re not fine.” His eyes blazed in mine. “But you will be. Then I’ll fuck you into oblivion,” he growled, lifting me in his arms.

“You’re using sex against me?” I shot at him with a scowl.

He walked us up the stairs with his eyes on me. “Baby. Fair warning, I’ll use anything against you to get you to drop the shit and make you mine. I’m happy to play dirty.” His eyebrows rose at the promise behind this.

My stomach did a dip and a thousand dirty images flew through my mind.

We made it to my bedroom, Brock depositing me carefully on the bed. I sank down in the familiar sheets. Brock started to undress, hanging his cut on a chair by my dressing table.

“You’re staying?” I asked. I hoped he was. As much as the independent woman in me hated to admit it I was terrified of being alone.

He looked at me over his shoulder. “Babe, I’m not spending another night without you for as long as I fuckin’ live,” he declared roughly.

My stomach fluttered at this but I said nothing. I scared myself with the thought that was all I wanted as well.

Brock joined me in bed, gathering me into his arms. He stroked my shoulder, eyes on me, as if he was cataloguing my every freckle. Weirdly, I wasn’t at all uncomfortable under his gaze. Partly because it was so hot it would have made my panties catch fire, if I was wearing any. And also because it was full of emotion, of tenderness. He was unguarded and had dropped all his barriers.

I ran my fingertip across his impressive pec, tracing the lines of one of his colorful tattoos. “Do you think this is going to work?” I asked quietly.

There was silence for long enough that I didn’t think he would answer me. I lifted my head to meet his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly and my stomach dropped. His hands tightened around me. “We’re going to piss each other off, fight like cats and dogs, and you’re going to act like a bitch. I’m also going to love you more than I have anyone on this fuckin’ planet, babe. I’d do anything for you, die for you in a heartbeat. I can’t predict the future but I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure my future includes you,” he finished.

Wow. That was an answer.

We sank back into comfortable silence and my stomach did backflips at his declaration. He reached over to turn the lamp off. “You need to sleep now, Sparky. It’s been a hell of a couple of days and it’s looking like I’m actually going to get some shuteye with you in my arms.”