Jill Shalvis - Flashpoint

He shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out…

“Three.” Her knees wobbled as she let out a shaky laugh. “Think we can use them all in one night?”

“I have more in my nightstand.”

“Oh,” she breathed, staring at him.

At her expression, he let out a shaky laugh. “God, Brooke. I don’t know what the hell it is about you, but you always make me…”

“What?” She needed to know. “I make you what?”

“Well, it’s a bit of a problem.” He pressed against her, and she could feel that he did have a problem. A big one.

“Oh my. I see.”

“Do you?” His voice was a rough whisper against her ear. “Any ideas?”

“Uh, well, I do have a few. You know, all in the name of assisting a friend in need.”

Against her skin, he grinned. “Is that what you’re going to do, give me some assistance?”

“I’m a giver, Zach.”

He was still laughing when he kissed her this time, and so was she, but his tongue sliding against hers had all that good humor fading away. Pulling up his shirt, Brooke put her hands on his chest, his hard, warm chest, while he lifted her, sandwiching her between his body and the door, rocking into her, and at the sensation, she thunked her head back against the wood, a needy moan escaping her lips as his mouth latched on her neck.

“Love that sound.”

So she repeated it, and with a groan, he peeled off her shirt. Beneath she wore only a camisole. He slid the straps off her shoulders, then tugged it to her belly, exposing her breasts. “Look at you,” he whispered in awe, leaning in, running his tongue over a nipple then sucking it into his mouth.

She found her fingers in his hair, and tightened her grip, arching up into his mouth. “Now, Zach. Please, now.”

Now must have worked for him. He went directly to the button on her shorts while she yanked at his jeans. Somehow, he managed to tear open one of the condoms, and then with their clothes still half on and half off, he slid into her.

Time slowed.

Or stopped.

Or something.

It just felt so right, having him inside her, filling her. It was the only thing that made sense in her unsettled life, the only thing…and she didn’t want it to end.

“Brooke.” That was all, just her name, as if he felt everything she did. Then he was kissing her, moving within her. Her vision burst into a kaleidoscope of colors, and her blood rushed through her head, roared in her ears. She barely heard herself cry out as she came, or the answering low, strained groan from him as he followed her over.

Lifting his head, he slapped a hand on the door to keep them from hitting the floor. His eyes were dark and sexily sleepy as he looked into her face.

“How was that for some letting go?” she asked, still breathless.

His eyes were still scorching. “If I were to say it wasn’t quite enough…?”

“I’d have no choice but to make use of those two other condoms you’re carrying.”

“Because you’re a giver.”

“That’s right.”

They made it to his shower, where Zach smiled down at her in a way that said he was rough and ready, all tough sinew wrapped around enough testosterone to leave her weak in the knees.

His hands were all over her, up and down her back, smoothing her wet hair from her face, skimming her breasts, her hips, her bottom, her thighs, between them…making her groan softly in his mouth, because yeah, his fingers knew her, knew exactly what to do to make her gasp. “Zach-”

“God, you’re wet.”

She managed a laugh, though it backed up in her throat when he slid a finger into her. “That’s because I’m in the shower.”

He played that finger inside her, in and then out. “This isn’t from the shower.”

Before she could respond, he dropped to his knees, pressed her back against the tiled wall and slid his hands up her thighs. “This is from me. You’re wet from me.” Using his fingers to part her, exposing exactly what he wanted, he leaned in and kissed her, then groaned in pleasure at her taste.

“Me,” he repeated thickly, with unmistakable satisfaction.

He was right. Even now, after knowing him in a way she knew few men, he could merely look at her and turn her on.

And his touch…

He wasn’t done with her, not even close. “Oh, God,” she gasped as he, with gentle, heart-stopping precision, used his tongue, his teeth, his fingers, driving her right to the very edge and holding her there until she gripped his wet hair in her hands, silently begging him to finish her off.

Which he did, and she came again. Exploded, actually. Maybe imploded. She couldn’t tell because she departed from her own mind for a few minutes, and when she’d have slipped to the tile in a boneless, orgasmic heap, he caught her. Caught her and surged to his feet, once again pressing her back to the wall, bending his dark, wet head to rasp his tongue over a nipple.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded, his voice a low, husky whisper as he lifted his head and impaled her with that dark, direct gaze. “There-God, yeah.

There…”

Her breath caught again when he rocked his hips to hers, entering her. He pushed again, going deeper this time, and her entire body welcomed him.

“Don’t,” he growled when she arched into him. “Don’t move, not yet-”

But she couldn’t help it, and he swore again as he moved, a slow thrust of those hips, gliding against her sensitized flesh, wrenching a horrifyingly needy whimper out of her as her head thunked back against the wall.

He had his arms low around her hips. One slid up her back, his fingers slipping into her hair, cushioning her head, protecting it from the tile. “God, you feel amazing.” He let out a slow, rough sound of sheer pleasure. “You’re so beautiful, so goddamned beautiful…” He thrust into her, wrenching low moans from both of their throats, which comingled in the fogged-up shower as he moved within her…

She’d already come, but she was there again, right there, primed and ready to go, his rhythm knocking her right off her axis. “Zach-”

“I know.” Again he bent his head, this time to watch the sight of himself sliding in and out of her body, the pull and tug of their glistening flesh, hers so soft and pliant and wet, his wet, too, but hard, hard everywhere-his chest, his abs, his thighs, between them-

That was it, that was all she took in before her mind went white with blinding pleasure. Vaguely, she felt him follow her over, but she was gone, simply gone.

* * *

When she could breathe once more, Brooke looked into Zach’s eyes, which were still dazed enough to stir her up again. She’d wanted to let loose and, oh boy, had she. She’d wanted a change-well, being naked with a man was a huge change. She’d wanted to belong, and she’d found that, too.

She tightened her grip on him so he couldn’t move, couldn’t break free, not yet, and he pressed his hips to hers as if he didn’t want to let go, either.

But then she realized how ridiculous that was. She didn’t cling, ever, and she was sure he didn’t, so she forced herself to relax her hold, to free him.

But he remained right where he was, muscles still quaking, eyes still a bit glazed over, just holding her, and something happened to her in that moment, something ripped deep in the region of her chest.

Oh, no. No, no, no…

She was not going to fall in love.

At least not any further than she already had…

Only she wasn’t stupid, or slow-witted. She knew the truth. Knew it was far too late. Needing to lighten the mood, she lifted her head and smiled. “Two condoms down…”

He let out a half laugh, half groan.

“Hey, if you’re too tired for that third one, I understand.”

Eyes glittering at that challenge, Zach bit her lower lip. He then proceeded to teach her a whole new kind of appreciation for her handheld showerhead-and she risked her knees to return the gesture.

By the time they hit his bed and tore open the third condom, she’d “let loose” multiple times and she was one quivering, sensitized nerve ending who could do nothing but feel.

And she felt plenty.

So damn plenty.

“Jesus,” Zach breathed shakily in her ear some time later. “That third time was…”

“Yeah.”

Turning his head, he softly kissed her throat, then her lips, coming up on an elbow to look into her face. “If we don’t have the words for it, I say we keep going.”

There were many, many reasons why she should get up and go home, but there was only one reason why she turned into his arms.

Zach woke up with a hard-on and a smile, both of which vanished when he realized he was alone.

Great. Terrific. Brooke wasn’t clingy, and he’d always liked that in a woman. Unable to pinpoint the basis for his sudden irritability, he took a shower, and just looking at the showerhead, remembering its use last night, had him smiling again.

He dressed and stopped to visit Phyllis at the hospital on the way to work. She wasn’t awake but he left her flowers and a Polaroid of Cecile sprawled on the firehouse couch, looking like the Queen of Sheba.

The picture reminded Zach that Tommy hadn’t called him regarding the photo he’d sent, and something niggled at him, just in the back of his brain, a connection that he couldn’t quite put together. It bugged the hell out of him.

At the station, he headed directly for the kitchen and caffeine. He found Cristina raiding someone’s lunch and Cecile meowing at her feet for handouts.

Cristina looked at Zach, then did a double take.

“What?” he asked, looking himself over to see if he’d put his pants on backward.

“Hey,” Dustin said, coming into the room, gesturing to the sandwich in Cristina’s hand. “That’s mine.”

Cristina took a bite, still staring at Zach. “You know what.”