I set the drill on the counter beside her thigh and stepped between her knees. “Because you’re mine.”
Her breath caught. “You came to that conclusion awfully fast.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
She didn’t argue. Her hands curved against the edge of the counter, her body softening toward me while her eyes dropped to my mouth before lifting back to mine.
I closed one hand around her nape, spread the other over her hip, and pulled her close before taking her mouth. Her lips yielded beneath mine with a soft sound that went straight to my cock, and I kissed her hard enough to make every intention clear. She tasted sweet, opening beneath the first stroke of my tongue while her hands fisted my shirt.
Her mouth was less experienced than mine but hungry enough to follow every change in angle. I slid my hand from her hip around the full curve of her ass and hauled her against me, fitting my erection directly against the heat between her thighs. We broke on the same ragged breath, her pupils blown wide when she felt the thick length trapped behind my zipper. When I ground against her, her head tipped back, and a moan slipped from her swollen lips.
That sound nearly ended my control.
I pressed my lips against the racing pulse in her throat and kissed lower, my scruff scraping pink across her fair skin while her fingers buried themselves in my hair. I wanted her naked across the counter, those full tits in my hands and her jeans peeled down far enough for me to spread her curvy thighs.
“Brogan,” she breathed.
Hearing my name from her in that voice drove a rough sound out of me. I caught her lower lip between my teeth, soothed it with my tongue, and kissed her again until her thighs tightened around my hips. I kept one hand fisted in the denim over her ass, the other holding her nape, because the first time I touched hereverywhere, grief and leftover fear weren’t going to be anywhere near us.
Jacqueline rocked against me without seeming to realize she’d done it. The movement dragged her heat along my cock and made my grip tighten hard enough that she gasped into my mouth. I tore myself away before I turned that gasp into an excuse to take more, my forehead resting against hers while both of us fought for breath.
“Why did you stop?” she whispered, her fingers still locked in my shirt.
“Because if I keep going, your clothes are comin’ off.”
Her breath caught, but there was fire in her eyes instead of fear.
I brushed my thumb across the damp corner of her mouth. “And once I see you naked on this counter, I’m not stopping until I’ve had my mouth on every inch of you and my cock so deep inside you that you forget there was ever space between us.”
Her thighs tightened around my hips. “I wasn’t asking you to stop.”
“I know.” The admission came out rough. “That’s the fucking problem.”
Her brow drew together. “Why?”
“You buried Otis a couple of weeks ago, drove eight hours, faced three thieves, and spent the rest of the day surrounded by cops and armed men.” I kissed her once more before lifting my head. “When I get you naked, the only thing making you tremble will be what I’m doing to you.”
When I stepped back, she stayed beautifully disordered on the counter, her lips swollen, braid loosened, and shirt crooked where my chest had dragged against it.
I gathered my control and picked up the drill.
Jacqueline blinked. “You’re going back to the door?”
“The door’s still fucked.”
“You kissed me senseless and remembered the lock?”
“Yeah.”
Her laughter filled the kitchen, and I finished the brace with her watching from the counter, swinging one foot and occasionally asking questions. When the oak board was seated firmly between the brackets, and I’d tested it hard enough to rattle the windows, I put the tools away and returned to her. She raised her arms without needing to be told, and I lifted her against my chest.
“Are you going to carry me every chance you get?” she murmured, her cheek settling near my shoulder.
“I like putting you where I want you.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
Her easy acceptance tested my control even more.
