Sarah's Seduction (Men of August 2)

“Where is the fucking bedroom, Sarah, before I take you here in the middle of the hallway.” His voice was dark and rough, rasping with the force of his own need.

“Upstairs,” she gasped as he swung her into his arms.

He took the stairs quickly, his big body sheltering her smaller one. He glanced around the hall, then turned to the first door. He pushed it open, then stopped abruptly.

“Who the fuck is that?” His tone was only mildly curious, but the pulsing fury underneath it concerned her.

Sarah glanced in confusion at the bed, then her eyes widened in horror. He hadn’t. He wouldn’t. But he had.

Mark was entwined, in her bed, with his young lover. The room reeked of alcohol and sex. Her bedroom was in complete disarray. Clothes were thrown everywhere, the lamp had toppled to the floor and a chair lay on its side. She shook her head, unable to believe it.

“God, this could only happen to me.” She shook her head as Brock set her slowly on her feet.

Her knees were weak, so it took her a moment to steady herself, and all she could do was stare in shock at Mark and what was her name? Sarah could never remember. But there they were, nude, enfolded in each other’s arms, snoring softly.

Tears filled her eyes. Not from pain at seeing her husband, or ex-husband in her bed with his lover. But the deeply humiliating pain of knowing the man behind her was slowly, furiously aware of the situation.

Sarah fought to draw the bodice of her dress back over her body. She struggled with the small sleeves, dragging them up her arms, all the while more than aware of Brock’s tense anger.

“Where’s your clothes?” He surprised her when he went to the closet and began rummaging through it. The dresser drawers were lying on the floor, her underwear, bras and T-shirts scattered along the carpet. It would be hard to find anything salvageable in that mess.

Brock jerked several dresses from the small closet, laid them over his arms and came back to her. He took her arm and pulled her quickly from the room. Sarah followed him in a daze, nearly stumbling as he strode from the room and back downstairs.

“Your purse.” He picked the small handbag up and pushed it into her hands. “Anything else you have to take?”

She shook her head quickly, blinking up at the harsh features of his face.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked curiously as he dragged her out the front door and slammed it behind them furiously.

Brock didn’t stop, he didn’t ask permission to drag her out of her house, away from yet another of Mark’s humiliations of her. Not that it mattered as much now. They weren’t married anymore and she was more than thankful for that. Still, she couldn’t believe the lengths he had gone to this time to shame her.

“To the ranch,” he bit out. “I’ll take care of that bastard in the morning. But I’m telling you, Sarah, I’m so damned hard and hurting tonight that you may be days getting back in that house.”

He threw her dresses into the back seat of the jeep, then pushed her into the interior with hard hands.

“Buckle up, or would you prefer to stay here with hubby and company?” His eyes bore into her in the dim light of the jeep. Anger pulsed; lust arced like white hot, invisible strands of electricity between them.

She shook her head desperately, fumbled for the seat belt and snapped it in.

Her dress was still unbuttoned. As Brock started the engine, she fought to re-fasten the tiny pearl buttons that held the front of the cream-colored sundress together.

“Shit.” His expletive had her flinching as he turned in his seat and quickly fixed it for her.

Tears gathered in her eyes. Her body still hummed with desire and she was terribly afraid he was going to be disappointed in her now. No mature, sophisticated woman couldn’t button her own dress at this point.

Then Brock was tilting her face, his lips taking hers in a kiss so hot, so furious, she reeled under the invasion. Her arms went around his shoulders again, her lips opening, her tongue twining desperately with his.

“Enough,” he growled, jerking away from her. “Dammit, we’ll both be lucky if I make it out of town before I bury myself inside you.”

The jeep pulled out of the driveway with a squeal of tires. Sarah sat silently, still in shock, still pulsing with lust. He was taking her to the ranch? Dear God, was she insane? What had happened to her night of passion? Why had it suddenly gone to hell? She sighed deeply. Mark. He had ruined this night just as he had ruined every night of her life since she married him. Someone needed to shoot him and put the world out of the misery he brought to it.

CHAPTER FOUR

Brock couldn’t believe the ending to this night. He was hard, hurting, achingly aware of the quiet young woman sitting in the seat beside him, twisting her hands nervously as she sneaked long looks in his direction. He knew she was worried, confused. She didn’t understand why he was taking her back to the ranch and in the heat of the moment had agreed. He knew she now doubted that decision.

“There’s a motel up here on the right. About four or five miles,” she said hesitantly. Yep, definitely reconsidering. “You could just drop me off there.”

Oh yeah, he was really going to do that one, he thought sarcastically. He kept it to himself though. Sarah seemed to be riding the edge of panic right now, and he’d be damned if he could stand it if she started crying. The one time she had cried on him had broke what little had been left of his heart.