Bullets & Bonfires

Without answering, she leans over and picks it up off the end table and hands it to me.

“No more calls. But I found a bunch of emails from Chris.”

“Fuck.” Did that asshole already violate the restraining order? “From when?”

“Looked like he’s been sending them since I left, but I didn’t see them until this morning when I went through my email.”

“You didn’t delete them, did you?”

“No, Sheriff Serious.” She picks her head up and I feel the weight of her gaze over my skin. “Can we not talk about that right now? Can we just be Bree and Liam? Friends binge-watching some kick-ass television tonight?”

Nothing has ever sounded better.

“You’ve got it.”

She places a kiss quick on my cheek and settles back into my hold.

Against my better judgment, I curl my arm around her, my hand resting on her hip.

Christ, she must have on another pair of those micro-shorts she seems to own in abundance, because I’m acutely aware that my fingertips brush bare skin.

On screen, agent number two is busy getting busy and things start to get uncomfortable behind my fly.

I clear my throat and glance away from the screen. “Uh, I guess this is on cable?”

Her head moves up and down against my chest as she nods. The sweet friction combined with her fresh clean scent tickling my nose doesn’t help the situation below my belt. Should I grab one of the blankets and throw it over my lap?

Fuck, I’m so hot, beads of sweat break out along my hairline. How can she stand all these blankets in this heat? Why isn’t the AC on?

Her fingers splay over my chest, her touch searing me through my cotton T-shirt. “Your heart’s pounding. Are you okay?”

On the surface, her question is all innocent concern. The way she peers up at me, though, is anything but innocent.

This is getting a little too intense.

My hand gently squeezes her hip before I unwrap my arm from around her body. I attempt to push myself off the couch, but her hand still resting on my chest stops me.

“Bree,” I warn.

No. Oh, shit. If she drops her gaze, she’ll definitely know where all my blood went. She pulls her hand away only to do something even worse. Pressing one knee into the couch cushion, she flings her other leg over me, straddling my lap.

Bad idea. Fuck me. Bad idea.

My body recoils as far back into the couch as the cushions allow. Unruffled by my reaction, she settles her hands over my shoulders, staring into my eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she asks. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“I really did miss you tonight.”

Her low voice, her searing eyes, the weight of her in my lap—all of it hypnotizes me, leaving me powerless to do the right thing.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

She cocks her head to the side. Another gesture meant to be innocent that isn’t. “What are we doing?”

Over her shoulder, the couple onscreen are still fucking frantically. The woman’s happily bouncing away on top of the guy. Lusty moans and orgasmic shrieks from the surround-sound speakers fill the air.

Desire slams into me swift and furious.

Fuck me, but I want to carry her into the bedroom and copy every single position on the screen right this second.

“Do you want to watch something else?” she asks in a light, teasing tone.

No, I want to do everything they’re doing and then some. But it’d be a huge mistake.

“I think we should.”

With the room still bathed in shadows, I don’t see her hand approaching until her fingers trace the line of my jaw. At first my body flinches away from her touch.

“Brianna, don’t.” The warning comes out with zero authority.

Then I give in and close my eyes.

She shifts in my lap. Nope. No. Can’t think about all of her heat pressing against me. Even so, I slide down a little, placing my hands on her hips to keep her steady.

“Why?”

“We can’t.”

“Why?” she insists.

Can’t she understand I’m trying to do the right thing here?

“Vince is my best friend and you’re his little sister.” My gaze roams over her face, stopping at her plump lips that I really want to taste again.

She tilts her head. “I’m an adult. What does my brother have to do with anything?”

Nope. She doesn’t get it at all. Or if she does, she’s not buying it. “Bro code, Bree. Guys don’t mess with their friend’s sisters.” Jesus Christ, that has to be the lamest thing that’s ever come out of my mouth. Right about now I could use a punch from Keegan to shut me up.

She squints and laughs at the same time. “Did you really just say bro code?”

Any other time, I’d love Brianna calling bullshit on me.

Not tonight.

“Do you like Vince?”

I shake my head in confusion. “Of course.”

“If you had a sister, would you let him date her?”

“That’s not the point.” The words come out sharp. I so desperately need to gain control of this situation. My hands move to her thighs in an attempt to remove her from my lap.

Her smooth skin distracts me and instead of pushing her off my lap, I run my hands up her legs, under her shorts and grip the globes of her ass.

Not a single scrap of underwear obstructs my exploration. Soft, silky, hot skin glides under my fingertips.

Her head lolls back, her heavy-lidded stare the sexiest damn thing.

Any words I planned to say leave my brain in a puff of smoke.

“Jesus, the things I want to do to you aren’t right,” I murmur. The words rush out before I consider their implication.

Her head snaps back up, her eyes stinging me with sharp curiosity.

“Tell me anyway,” she insists.

My hands knead her ass harder, forcing her against the hard ridge of my erection. A low groan slips from her throat and she swivels her hips just enough to make me lose my damn mind.

She swoops in, brushing her lips against my ear. “Do you want to spank me, Liam?”

“Fuck!” I jerk back as if she’d slapped me.

She nods in a maddening way. Both teasing and knowing. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Stop. I couldn’t. With you. Not after.” Christ, she’s fried my brain, and I can’t get any words out.

“You can admit it, Liam.”

My dirty mind conjures up a whole list of things I want to do to her. This conversation needs to end. I’m confused, pissed off, and so goddamn aroused I’m dangerously close to losing it and fucking her on Vince’s living room floor.

Grasping at something to stop this insanity, I blurt out what’s been bothering me since she came home and I realized how much I still want her. “You’re not thinking clearly. Even if I—you’re not ready to be in another relationship.”

She sucks in a deep breath, her blue eyes simmering with anger.

Well, that worked.

With deft movements, she plucks one of my hands off her thigh, guiding it to the V between her legs.

My brain says No. Pull back. But I can’t. No fucking way. I have to explore.

She presses my hand up against her hot center. The sensations take a second to infiltrate my foggy brain. Her shorts are wet.

My nostrils flare, and I sit up straighter, pressing my hand against her harder. Her nipples tease me through the flimsy material of her top. Does she ever wear a damn bra?

Heat pours from her. Those tiny shorts would be so easy to shove to the side. I press my thumb against her, seeking. I trace her slit through the damp material with several firm strokes. She leans back, bracing her hands on my knees, arching her back.

So beautiful. Perfect in every way.

She lets out a soft moan.

Her body trembles.

I’m completely powerless to

stop even though the timing is so, so wrong.

Suddenly, she snaps her head forward, almost colliding with mine.

Pressing her fists into my thighs for leverage, she jumps out of my lap with the grace and quickness of a cat.

“Do you have any idea how insulting that is?”

My brain scrambles to sort out her words while my body struggles with the loss of her heat.

“Does that feel like I’m not ready?” she snaps.

No. She felt fucking amazing and I want to shove my face between her thighs and taste her next.

Before I can squeeze out an answer, she turns and stalks off to the bedroom.

Follow her.

She’s pissed. I should let her cool off. Hell, I need to cool off. I handled that like a complete asshole.

Kimber lifts her head and chuffs as if to say she has a stronger word than asshole in mind for me.

After a few minutes, I’m no calmer.

Bree’s end of the house is quiet. I duck into the bathroom. Like a creep, I listen against the door that opens into the bedroom.

Nothing.

I contemplate going in and apologizing, but I know if I step foot in that room we’re going to finish what we started on the couch.