His large hand drifted down, along the side of her neck. Heat radiated from his broad palm and long fingers. Her pulse kicked as he cupped her nape, his thumb caressing the sensitive skin below her ear.
He brought her toward him then, tilting her face up to meet his. He kissed her, slow and deep. The unhurried melding of his mouth against hers sent a current of liquid heat arrowing through her veins. The fire pooled in the center of her, the raw core filling with bright, fierce longing.
"If this isn't what you want," he murmured against her lips, "then all you have to do is tell me. At any time, I'll stop--"
"No." She shook her head as she reached up to touch his strong jaw. "I do want this. I want you--so much right now, it's scaring me half to death."
His smile spread lazily, those sensual lips parting to reveal the white flash of his teeth--and the growing length of his fangs. Jenna stared at his mouth, knowing that basic human survival instincts should be throwing off all sorts of alarms, warning her that getting too close to those sharp canines could be deadly.
But she felt no fear. Rather, her mind recognized his transformation with an inexplicable sense of acceptance. Excitement, even, as the absorbing brown of his eyes began to glitter with fiery amber light.
Above the crewneck collar of his gray T-shirt and beneath the short sleeves that clung to the knotted bulge of his smoothly muscled biceps, Brock's dermaglyphs pulsed with color. The Breed skin markings deepened from their usual dark bronze hue to shades of burgundy, gold, and deepest purple. Jenna ran her fingers along the swirling curves and tapered arches of his glyphs, marveling at their unearthly beauty.
"Everything I thought I knew is different now," she mused aloud as she stood in the circle of his arms, idly tracing the pattern of the glyphs that tracked down his thick forearm. "It's all changed now. I'm changed--in ways I'm not sure will ever make sense to me." She glanced up at him. "I'm not looking for more confusion in my life. I don't think I could handle that on top of the rest of it."
He held her stare, no judgment in his eyes, only patience and an aura of unerring control. "Are you confused right now, when I'm touching you ...
or when I'm kissing you?"
"No," she said, astonished to realize it. "Not then."
"Good." He bent his head and claimed her mouth again, suckling her lower lip, catching it between his teeth as he stroked her back, then palmed his hands along the curve of her ass. He squeezed her possessively, hauling her electrified body up against the hard ridge of his groin. He nuzzled into the crook of her neck, his lips warm and wet on her skin. When he spoke again, his voice was thicker than before, edged with the same kind of need that was roaring through her. "Let yourself feel pleasure, Jenna. If you want it, then that's all this needs to be between us. No pressures, no strings. No promises neither one of us is ready to make."
Oh, God. It sounded so good, so tempting to give in to the desire that had been crackling between them ever since she woke up at the Order's compound. She wasn't ready to open her heart again--she might never be ready for that vulnerability again--but she didn't know if she was strong enough to resist the gift Brock was offering her.
He kissed the hollow at the base of her throat. "It's all right, Jenna.
Give the rest to me for now. Let everything else go, except this."
"Yes," she sighed, unable to hold back her breathless gasp as his caress roamed her body. His strong, gifted hands sent tingles of energy through her veins, his preternatural talent drawing away the lingering weight of her sorrow and guilt and confusion. His hot, skilled mouth left only sensation and hunger in its wake.
He kissed a slow path up the length of her throat, then along her jawline, until his lips found hers once more. Jenna welcomed his passion, opening to him as his tongue swept the seam of her mouth. He groaned as she sucked him in deeper, growled with pure male approval as she wrapped her fingers around the back of his head and held him more firmly against her mouth.
God, she had no idea how badly she'd craved a man's touch. She'd gone so long without intimacy, willingly depriving herself of sexual contact and release. For four years, she had convinced herself she neither wanted it nor deserved it, just a further self-imposed punishment for the offense of having survived the accident that killed her loved ones.
She had believed herself immune to desire, yet now, with Brock, all those once-impenetrable barriers were crumbling, falling down around her like nothing more than dried, weightless leaves. She couldn't feel guilt for the pleasure he was giving her. Whether due to Brock's powerful ability to absorb her anguish, or the depth of her own repressed need, she couldn't be certain. All she knew was the soaring intensity of her body's response to him, a surge of pleasure and tightening anticipation that left her breathless and greedy for more.
Brock's big hands drifted to her shoulders, then made a slow journey over her br**sts. Through the thin cotton knit of her shirt, her ni**les peaked, hard and aching, alive with sensation as he kneaded each heavy mound. Jenna moaned, wanting to feel more of his touch. She caught his hand in hers and guided him up under the loose hem of her top. He didn't require any more direction than that. In less than a second, he'd unfastened the front clasp of her bra and covered her bare flesh with his heated palm.
He teased the diamond-hard bud as he caressed her. "Is that better?"
he murmured just below her ear. "Tell me if you like it."
"God ... yes. " It felt so good, she could hardly form words.
Jenna sucked in a hiss of pleasure, tipping her head back as the coil of sensation twisted tighter in her core. He kept touching her, kept kissing her and caressing her, as he slowly removed her shirt. He took equal care with her loosened bra, sliding the thin straps off her shoulders, then down her arms. Suddenly she was standing before him, na**d from the waist up. The instinct to cover herself--to hide the scars that riddled her torso from the accident and the one on her abdomen that was a daily reminder of Libby's difficult birth--flared swiftly, but only for an instant.