Page 62 of Burning Justice

“You won’t.” Her gaze dipped to his lips, and in that instant she knew. Every bit of caution she’d been harboring where he was concerned sizzled to nothing. “Kiss me,” she whispered, barely recognizing the sound of her own voice.

His eyes darkened further. “Is that all you want me to do?”

Her heart thudded faster. She shook her head, whispering, “No.”

The next thing she knew, his lips were on hers, his tongue seeking hers.

Gemma grasped his shoulders, giving in to the searing heat billowing between them. Kissing between partners was ill advised. Sex between partners would be a monumental mistake.

Right now, she didn’t care.

He tugged her to a sitting position, then slipped his hands beneath the hem of her T-shirt and yanked it up and over her head. His hands were big and warm, sliding across her back, then to her breasts and nipples, rubbing them with his rough palms.

His hands stilled, and his face twisted in confusion as he stared at her left hip. “Is that a—”

“Goldfish tattoo?” She grinned. “Yes, it is.” Two years ago, right after she’d gotten Jaws, she and Bonnie had been enjoying a girls’ night out and had hit a tattoo parlor on the way home. Bonnie had gotten a pink rose on her ankle. Gemma had opted for something a bit more adventurous.

His frown deepened. “It’s got teeth.”

“Jaws.”

Slowly, his lips curved into the sexiest smile she’d ever seen. “I love it.” He eased her down onto the mattress, then leaned over and began nibbling at the sensitive skin on her hip, right over her tattoo. Still nibbling and kissing her, he lowered her to the mattress, his hands unexpectedly gentle as they continued exploring her body just like she had done to his.

When he lifted his mouth to look down at her, indecision speared a clear path to her brain. “You know this is probably a mistake, right?” she asked, her mind at war with her body.

“Yeah.” He licked his lips, then hooked his fingers around the edge of her panties and began pulling them slowly from her hips. As he followed the progress of her boring white cotton undies down her legs, his throat worked, and he swallowed hard.

“And that it could affect our working relationship?” she added, watching him toss the panties into a corner.

“Uh-huh.” He skimmed his hands from her ankles to the juncture of her thighs, then spread her legs, opening her wide. Their gazes met. The look of intense yearning radiating from him sent a ripple of desire that rose to new heights until it was a wave of unquenchable need in her core.

It was a look that said he wanted to devour her.

No matter what happened here, in her bedroom, on her sad excuse for a bed, there’d be no regrets.

Brett struck her as a man who took charge in the bedroom, and she imagined the type of women he’d been with were probably okay with that.

Not her.

In one fluid motion, she sat up, pushed at his chest until he was the one lying on his back. She straddled his thighs, then popped open the button of his pants and began pulling down the zipper in slow, teasing increments.

The corners of his mouth lifted as he watched the zipper’s progress. When her knuckles grazed the black fabric–covered bulge of his erection, he hissed in a sharp breath. “I should have known a woman who knows how to use power tools would want to take charge.”

She hooked her fingers over the waistline of his pants and tight black jockey shorts, tugging both garments down to his ankles before tossing them in the same corner as her panties. His socks came next. “Do you have a problem with that?”

He laughed, a sexy, throaty rumble. “Not a single one.”

“Good.” She patted his chest. “Wait here.”

Gemma practically leaped from the bed, then raced up the stairs and into her bathroom—the one where she had most of her toiletries stored. After rummaging in the tiny closet for a full minute, she found what she was looking for and raced back downstairs.

At the doorway to her bedroom, she stopped short. Her heart sank, and she sighed. Brett still lay on the bed all right. His right arm was flung over his eyes. Snoring, loud enough to rival his dog’s, rolled from his parted lips.

Digging out a couple of condoms had seemed like the right thing to do. Safety first, and all. Sadly, frustratingly, it had killed the moment. More like murdered it.

After tossing the condoms on the foot of the bed, she lay down next to Brett. How dare he get her all hot and bothered, then pass out on her?

His chest rose and fell evenly. Then again, he’d been faking sleep before.