Valentine's Dates (5 page)

“Or we could stay here a little longer.” His hand tightened on her hip, his fingers flexing as if ready to stop her from going anywhere.

Brent’s words, the deep timbre of his voice, had her breath snagging in her throat and her pulse accelerating. His gaze bore into hers and in the fiery blue depths she saw emotions
she’d wished for a million years ago. She’d give anything to close the gap between them and press her lips to his, but fear held her back. If she was reading him wrong…

Her interpretation didn’t matter. He spelled it all out when he raised his head and took her mouth with his.

The kiss was soft – tender – and more devastating for its lack of demand. He nibbled on her lips, slid his tongue across them, and explored her mouth from corner to corner. His breath was warm, mingling with hers as he continued the gentle caresses. Vee remembered his slow, drugging kisses. Remembered the way he could drive her insane with the barest brush of his lips. She moaned, her lips opening in invitation. Only Brent had other plans.

His mouth left hers to trail along her jaw. He nuzzled the hollow beneath her ear sending a shiver down her neck and a wave of goose bumps over her skin. A needy cry slipped up her throat as her back arched, pressing her breasts into his chest. Her nipples puckered, the taut nubs aching for his touch. Brent licked at her earlobe, scraped it with his teeth, then pulled it into the smouldering heat of his mouth and suckled. Sensation exploded, shooting along an invisible line from her ear to her breasts to her sex, drawing her nerve endings tight with desire.

Her body bucked, her hips pressing into the cradle of his, grinding the hard ridge of his cock against her and delivering another burst of sensation into her core. She rocked into him to increase the pressure, to hit the spot just out of reach that her body craved. Brent moved with her, thrusting up as she pushed down, and captured her mouth with his once more. This kiss wasn’t gentle. His tongue lashed out, invading her mouth with wicked intent and demanding her surrender.

Except she didn’t want to give. She wanted to take. Needed to crawl inside him, have him crawl inside her until the raking need was sated. Groaning, she dragged her mouth from his and bit his chin. Nipping her way over his stubbled cheek she found his ear and latched on to the lobe. He moaned as he turned his lips to the slope of her neck. Losing herself in the magic of his mouth, she let go of her prize and angled her head to give his lips free rein. He nibbled and licked and sucked. Never doing one for too long, he kept her on the precipice until her blood pounded in her ears and every nerve ending screamed for more.

“More.” The cry tore from her throat, her voice scratchy and breathless.

She ripped at his shirt, tugged it up his torso until she could slide her hands beneath to touch the hot skin of his chest. Heat scorched her fingers, streaked up her arms, and flooded her body. Burning from the inside out, she ground against him, seeking the friction necessary to push her over the edge.

“Jesus. Vee.” Brent’s hands gripped her hips and lifted her away. “Stop. Shit.”

His words were growled, the tone rubbing on her sensitised nerves like razor wire. “No.” She didn’t want to stop.

“Fuck. The first time I come with you in my arms again won’t be in my fucking pants.” He sat up taking her with him. Surging to his feet, he spun her in his arms and pulled her back to his front. “If we do this now, Vee, it’ll be in my bed, not on your brother’s couch where anyone could walk in and find us.”

Vee gasped for air, her chest heaving as she struggled to clear her mind and think. They were in Wade’s house. On Wade’s couch.
Oh God
. What was she thinking? She was virtually attacking Brent in her brother’s home. Heat that had nothing to do with arousal surged into her face. Her head bowed as the realisation of what she’d been about to do set in.

“Hey, none of that.” Brent tipped her chin up, tilted her head so he could see her eyes. “I was just as involved as you, but I don’t want to make love to you on the couch. I want you spread out on my bed where I can get at every little bit of you until I’ve had my fill.”

His words curled her toes and sent a shaft of heat through her centre. “Yes.”

He chuckled. “Are you sure? I don’t want you regretting it after.”

Brent placed a finger over her lips to stop her from answering. “Be very sure. Once we take that step, there’s no going back. Everything changes.”

Vee couldn’t dispute his words, except everything had already changed. It had probably happened in the last few weeks. Since she’d moved in, their bickering and fighting had increased. And, she had to admit, most of those arguments were started by her. She tried to find fault with everything he did from doing background searches on her clients to leaving the washing machine full of wet clothes. Every chance she got, she attacked.

With blinding clarity Vee realised she’d been trying to find reasons to hate him, trying to stop herself from doing the one thing she’d promised herself she’d never do again. Only she’d never really stopped. She loved Brent. Pulling from his arms, she stepped away and turned to face him. Words failed her. How could she tell him what was in her heart when she didn’t trust him not to rip it out again?

“I can’t.”

Brent watched Vee run from the room. His groin throbbed, his cock aching for release, but unless he wanted to take matters into his own hand, he’d remain unsatisfied for now. He dragged a hand down his face and contemplated his next move. He’d only meant to kiss her, give her a hint of what he felt. Unfortunately the sparks flying between them exploded into a burning inferno that he had no hope of controlling. If she hadn’t gotten him so worked up
he’d risked coming in his pants, he would have taken her on the couch. She deserved better than that.
They
deserved better.

He picked up their cups from last night and headed for the kitchen. His plan to woo her would need rethinking. He’d be a fool to think they wouldn’t end up in the same position again. Their chemistry was too volatile. Whether they were arguing or making out, their passion threatened to consume them. Wade’s fridge didn’t hold a lot of choice, but Brent found eggs, ham, and cheese, so he could make a couple of omelettes. There were no tomatoes, so he grabbed a red capsicum instead. Piling it all on the counter he pulled out a chopping board and knife and quickly diced everything. He cracked six eggs into a bowl and whisked them while waiting for a pan to heat. When it was ready, he poured in half the eggs and dropped in half of everything else.

Brent wasn’t too proud to admit that breakfast was a peace offering. A truce of sorts. Something to bridge the gap that had widened between them. She hadn’t come down yet, but he knew she hadn’t left the house. The alarm would have signalled a breach of any door if she had. He ignored Wade’s fancy coffee machine in favour of the small coffee pot Emily preferred. Filling the water reservoir, he dumped grounds into the filter and hit the start switch. By the time it was done, he’d have the second omelette ready and he could either call Vee down or deliver breakfast to her room.

“You really are a man of many talents.”

Spinning around he found Vee sitting at the breakfast counter, chin resting in her hand. “How long have you been there?”

“A while.” She shrugged. “You were busy. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

He scanned her face, tried to decipher the message in her eyes, but she was hiding her thoughts. “I’m making breakfast.”

She smiled. “I see that.”

“I made omelettes.”

“I see that too.”

“Right.” He put the pan back on the heat and watched her from the corner of his eye as he threw in the remaining food. “I’ll just get this second one cooked and then we can eat. Do you want to have it in here or out on the terrace?”

The stool scraped on the tile floor as she stood up. “Outside. It’s lovely out there at the moment, although it’s going to be another hot one today.” She got plates out of the cupboard and put them on the counter. “Do you have to work?” she asked.

“No. You?” He hoped not.

Vee glanced his way. “No. But I need to get my phone and purse from Edward.”

Brent’s fist clenched around the spatula handle. The last thing he wanted Vee to deal with was Smithe. He’d volunteer to collect her things, but he doubted she’d let him. He wouldn’t allow her to go on her own though. “We’ll go after breakfast.”

“You don’t–”

“Not negotiable. I’m coming with you or
I
go alone.” He turned his back to her so she wouldn’t see the anger on his face and think it was aimed at her. Smithe would be lucky if Brent didn’t punch his lights out the second he opened his door.

“Okay.”

Her quick agreement had him glancing over his shoulder at her. “What, no argument?”

“No, and if it wasn’t for the fact I don’t want Edward to think I care enough about what happened to avoid him, I’d let you go without me.”

Brent didn’t know what to make of that. Other than last night and when they’d buried her parents, Vee had never let him take care of anything for her. She’d always been fiercely independent, more so after he walked away. He chose to believe it meant she trusted him. How much, he couldn’t say, but he’d take anything he could get at this stage and consider it a step forward.

He turned back to the stove. The omelette was done, maybe a little over-done, so he quickly removed the pan from the heat and slid the omelette onto one of the plates. Vee headed outside with cutlery and napkins, and while she set the table he plated the other omelette and poured the coffee. When she came back, he handed her a plate and cup.

“I thought we could take the boat out later. Maybe pack a picnic lunch,” he said as they walked outside.

“Might not be a good idea. It’s supposed to hit the high thirties before a storm front moves in around five.”

“Damn.” He’d hoped to get her to himself for a few hours without any distractions.

“We could picnic down in the cabana or by the pool instead.”

Her suggestion took him by surprise, but he wasn’t about to knock her back. “Excellent idea. It’s a date.”

“A date?” She looked at him, her plate and cup held inches from the table.

“Yep.” He quickly changed the subject. “Do you have Smithe’s address?”

“No. But I’m sure you do.” She smiled at him as she put her food down and pulled out a chair.

“Busted.” He grinned. “Although I’m sure you’ll forgive me this time.”

“I will if you explain why having lunch together is classified a date.”

“Because I asked you to lunch and you accepted.”

She laughed. “That doesn’t make it a date.”

“No. Me wanting to kiss you while we eat lunch makes it a date.” Her smile froze, her gaze snapping up to meet his. Brent decided to let her think on that for a moment and forked up a bit of food. “Better eat before it gets cold.”

Brent took his own advice and concentrated on eating and not giving in to the urge to lean over and kiss her.

Vee breathed a sigh of relief as she dropped into the front seat of Brent’s car. Retrieving her handbag had proved uneventful, much to Brent’s disgust. She’d felt the tension coiling inside him as they’d stood at the door. Ready to strike at any moment, Brent had bounced on his toes a couple of times, but once the door opened, he’d gone perfectly still, arms folded across his barrel of a chest and dark scowl on his face. She hadn’t missed the step back Edward took on seeing Brent standing beside her. Laughter spilled from her lips, filled the car, and made Brent look her way as he slid behind the wheel.

“Something funny?” he asked.

“You and your stand-over man impersonation.” She smiled. “Actually, it was Edward’s reaction that tickled my funny bone.”

Brent grinned. “He did turn a little green.”

“It was worth the inconvenience for that alone.”

“And now, to continue the entertainment portion of our day, let’s head home for our lunch date.” He started the car and put it in gear.

“What’s on the menu?” Vee buckled her seatbelt.

“Chicken Caesar salad, crusty bread rolls, and an assortment of cheese and fruit.”

“Sounds perfect for a hot day. Where are we picking that up from?”

“My place.” With practiced ease, Brent manoeuvred the car into traffic.

“Your place? You have all that in your kitchen?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. Morgan isn’t the only guy you know who likes to cook. And can.”

“Salad isn’t cooking,” she laughed.

“No, but the chargrilled chicken that goes in it is.”

“Ha, anyone can light a grill and throw some chicken on.”

“Have you eaten anything Emily’s cooked?”

“Ah, no. Wade warned me about that though.” She glanced his way. “He was quite adamant that I never take her up on an offer to cook me dinner.”

“Yeah, well, that woman can’t boil water without burning the pot.”

“She’s that bad?” Vee couldn’t imagine someone being that useless in the kitchen.

“Why do you think Wade cooks all the time?”

“I thought he was helping out with the baby because Emily is still working full-time.”

“Nope. Your brother likes to eat and if it were left to Emily, they’d be living on burned toast.”

“I guess Davie won’t be making cookies with his mum like Wade and I used to.”

“No, he’ll be making them with his dad.” Brent took his eyes off the road to glance her way. “Or his Auntie Vee.”

Vee smiled. She couldn’t wait for her nephew to be a little older, when she could make choc chip cookies with him. Or perhaps the Anzac biscuits her mother used to make.

“You should smile like that more often.”

She looked at Brent. “Like what?”

“Like you mean it, like you’re genuinely happy,” he said as he pulled into their driveway. “God, Vee. You have no idea how sorry I am.”

Vee sucked in a breath. Before she could comprehend his meaning, Brent had punched in the security code. The gates opened and he drove forward. Unsure whether he referred to their past or not, she remained silent while he pulled the car up to the house. Hopping out, she skirted the front of the car and met Brent on the gravel path. They’d barely taken two steps when she stumbled, the loose rocks shifting under her feet.