For Christ’s sake, woman, he’s driving!I scolded myself.
Brodie removed his hand from my face, and returned his attention to the road. But he took my hand back in his again and kept there for the rest of the insanely long drive to Bakersfield, and that was good enough for me.
13
Arabella
“I’m so tiredI could sleep for a week,” I groaned as Brodie and I stumbled into our room for the night. This one was a step up from the motel we’d shared the other night—a Holiday Inn with two double beds covered in fresh, crisp linens. The walls and carpets were clean and devoid of stains, and I’d bet the towels in the bathroom were soft and fluffy.
“I ken what ye mean, lass,” Brodie agreed, flopping onto one of the beds. I grinned at the sight of him lying there spread eagled, with his eyes closed and his boots dangling off the edge of the bed. “I dinnae expect to move from here for the rest of the night.”
We’d gotten into Bakersfield about an hour ago, after nearly twelve hours of driving, then went straight to Toby’s house. Brodie had woken him from the enchanted sleep, then had done some mumbo jumbo I didn’t understand to make him forget about us before pointing the man toward his own doorstep. Much as I wanted to wait and see how Toby had been received, Brodie and I couldn’t stick around. It was the middle of the night, but someone might still spot us, and we didn’t want to be swept up into a police investigation.
“I’m going to grab a shower,” I called over my shoulder as I headed into the bathroom. As I’d predicted, the towelsweresoft and fluffy, and the white-tiled walls and floor were clean. After deliberating for a moment, I put a stopper in the tub, then turned the hot water on. I was going to have a nice, long soak before bed.
After making sure the door was firmly locked behind me, I pulled my shirt off, then let it fall to the floor. My jeans came shimmying off afterward, and I wondered if I should just hand wash my clothes and let them air dry. I didn’t think Brodie wanted to keep buying me a new outfit every day. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror out of habit, then let out a loud shriek at what I saw.
“Brodie!”
Footsteps thundered outside, and the doorknob rattled. “Lass!” Brodie yelled through the door, panic rife in his voice. “Are ye all right?”
“I…” Trembling, I turned away from the mirror, then undid the door lock. I stepped back as Brodie flung it open, charging in like a Highland warrior ready to do battle. Well, if highlanders had glowing green fists. But he stopped short at the sight of me, and his mouth dropped open.
“Lass,” he whispered, his eyes glued to my chest, and I knew he wasn’t staring at my cleavage. “Yer angel wings!”
“Yeah.” Swallowing hard, I glanced down. The unsightly birthmark that had always marred my skin was gone. In its place was a stunning tattoo, done in silver, of a pair of angel wings stretching across my breastbone. I couldn’t believe that this had been hiding on my body this whole time. Why had it chosen to come out now? “It’s…”
“Beautiful,” Brodie finished, closing the distance between us. I sucked in a breath as his larger-than-life presence filled the empty space between us, and inhaled that masculine, earthy scent that was quickly becoming an addiction for me. My body hummed with desire, and I stood stock-still as he brushed his fingers across the wing on my left breastbone, tracing the feathers with a reverent expression on his face. “This must’ve happened when ye summoned yer celestial weapon.”
I nodded, remembering how my chest had burned right before I’d exorcised that demon. The brand tingled as Brodie explored it with his fingers, and those tingles spread throughout my body, filling me with a delicious warmth. My breath grew shorter as heat pooled between my thighs, and my nipples hardened when his palm brushed against the top of my breast.
Brodie paused, and it was that moment when we both realized I was standing here in nothing but my bra and panties. His nostrils flared, his eyes darkening with desire as they traveled up and down my semi-naked form. I licked my suddenly dry lips, and his gaze fastened on my mouth with a longing that took my breath away.
“Brodie,” I whispered, sliding my hands up his chest and over his broad shoulders. My fingers slid into his shaggy curls as he bent his head, and our mouths met in the hottest kiss I’d ever experienced. It was fierce and tender and full of need, his lips moving urgently against mine, as if determined to memorize every line and dip of my mouth. Desire shot through me, blossoming in my core, and my nipples hardened as they brushed against his chest. A tiny whimper escaped my lips, and then his tongue was in my mouth, brushing tantalizingly against my own, coaxing me into an erotic dance. He tasted like herbs and spice with just a hint of honey, and I pulled him closer, wanting more, wanting everything—
“Shite,” Brodie gasped against my mouth, pushing me away. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes wild as they stared at me. “I’m sorry, lass. I didna mean to.”
“It’s okay,” I said, bewildered at his reaction. His hands had slipped around my waist at some point, so we were still close enough for me to lean in and kiss him again if I wanted.
“No. No, ’tis not okay, lass.” Brodie scooped a hand through his hair, stepping back. Desire still raged in those green depths, but it was tempered with guilt, which I didn’t understand. Why would he feel guilty about kissing me? “I’m yer protector. I should not be touching ye like that.”
“But why?” I stepped toward him, confusion swirling inside me, throwing me off balance. “What does you being my protector have to do with us…”
“Please, lass.” Brodie threw up his hands as if to ward me off, and I recoiled. Was I really that repulsive? “Just trust me on this.”
“Like I’m supposed to trust you with everything else?” I asked, sarcasm filling my voice. Better to sound bitchy than to sound like I was hurting.
“Have I steered ye wrong yet?” Brodie demanded.
“No.” I stared at him for a long moment. “No, you haven’t. You’ve done a good job of keeping me alive. But don’t pretend like this is some noble decision you’re making—” I snapped, shouldering past him. “I know you think I’m damaged goods.”
“Lass…” Brodie said, and the pain in his voice would have made me turn around if I wasn’t so angry. “Lass, please. ’Tisn’t like that.”
But I didn’t want to hear what it was like. I didn’t want to hear anything at all, so I stormed over to the bed, then buried myself beneath the blankets. And only when my face was tucked snugly into the pillows did I allow myself to cry.
14
Brodie
