Brand didn’t move. “You’re welcome, Becky.”
Rolling her eyes at the prompt, she twisted to see him. “I already said thanks.”
“No, I don’t think you did.”
Screwing up her face, her tone sour, she said, “Thank you for taking care of your mother who almost died.”
Since he’d gotten his way, Brand smiled. “You’re welcome.” He took Sahara’s arm and guided her away.
Sahara was thinking that mother and son were more like adversaries who’d called a very temporary truce. While Becky might not be his mom, Brand couldn’t enjoy having such a strained relationship with her. In the long run, she didn’t know if she could help, but she’d give it her best try by giving Becky a new focus.
The second they were in the car, Brand asked, “Okay, what was that about?”
After just touting her intelligence, Sahara played dumb. “What’s that?” Unfortunately, she wasn’t that great of an actress.
“You know what I’m talking about.” He put the car in gear and pulled out of the lot, not once looking to where Becky sat on the patio. “What surprise do you have planned for me?”
After rolling down her window, Sahara waved to Becky. The woman ignored her, keeping her nose in the magazine. She sighed. “If I tell you it won’t be much of a surprise, now will it?”
He didn’t press her, but he did warn, “If you’re thinking to try to reconcile me with Becky, don’t bother. I’m doing my duty, but I’m not doing anything more.”
Sahara didn’t care about duty. She cared about his feelings. She cared about his life.
She cared about him—far, far too much.
CHAPTER TEN
BRAND DIDN’T LIKE the evasive way Sahara got her phone from her purse and checked for messages.
“Sahara?”
“Hmm?”
She was definitely up to something. “I’m telling you now, don’t get involved.”
In a huff, she lowered the phone and glared at him. “Do you think you could try trusting me just a little?”
“No. Not with this.”
Appearing hurt, she paused and asked, “Do you trust me with anything else?”
He wanted to reassure her, but this was too important to leave open to interpretation. “I trust you to keep your word.”
One slim brow arched. “My word?”
“We had an agreement—and honey, we’re not in the office, and not around your employees.” Brand spared her a quick glance. “That means I’m the boss.”
Silence filled the interior of the car, then he felt her hand on his shoulder.
“Do you have some orders for me, sir?” Her fingers trailed down his arm, off his arm and onto his leg. She curved her hand over his thigh, fingertips dangerously close to his junk. “Something you’d like me to...do?”
Forgetting all about his mother, Brand accused, “Tease.”
“I enjoy teasing you.” Her nails lightly scraped over the denim at his crotch. “Don’t you enjoy it?”
“Yeah.” He enjoyed it a lot. Holding the wheel tight and keeping his gaze on the road, he said, “Maybe you should save the teasing until we’re home in bed, though.”
“It’s a long drive.” Resting her head against the seat back, her smile in place and her gaze steady on his face, she withdrew her hand. “Maybe I’ll just tell you what I’d like to do to you, instead.”
“I’m game.” Hell, he was already half-hard.
Sahara wasn’t one to do anything halfway, and the woman was far from reserved. She boldly detailed her seduction, what she’d like to do to him, how and where she’d do it, leaving out nothing.
By the time they got to the agency, Brand could barely think for wanting her. Sahara’s brand of foreplay nearly torched him.
Yet he still noticed the man standing across from the parking garage, half in the shadow of a shop overhang, his demeanor watchful—until he spotted Brand. Then he became more alert.
Briefly, their gazes held as Brand drove past, but short of stopping in the middle of the road, Brand had no choice but to turn into the garage. As he did so, he glanced into the rearview mirror—and saw no one.
“What?” Sahara asked, giving up her lurid description of where she would kiss him. She twisted to look back through the rearview window. “What’s wrong?”
“Probably nothing,” Brand said. “I saw...someone. He seemed to be watching the agency.”
Frowning, she said, “Describe him.”
“Hard to do. Tall, wearing a hoodie. He was mostly in shadow, away from the lights.”
“I don’t see anyone.”
“Yeah, he disappeared after I spotted him.” Or after he spotted us.
“The man who kidnapped me was enormous. As big as you.”
“This guy looked a little shorter. I’d say six feet tall or so.”
Sahara lost interest. “Not our guy, then.”
Brand wasn’t convinced, so he stayed aware as they entered the building, pausing to speak to the guard. Much as he’d like to get hold of the bastard who’d taken her, he’d rather not do it with Sahara present.
He’d feel better once he had her secure in the suite.
They stepped inside, and as he locked the door, Sahara was busy shedding clothes. He turned and found her stripped down to her bra and panties.
She had a thing for fine lingerie, and looked fucking gorgeous in it.
“In a rush?” Brand asked.
“After all that teasing?” She reached back to open her bra, then dropped it over a chair with her clothes. “Aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” he murmured, letting his gaze move over her. With her hands up to free her hair, she looked even more slender. But she had an inner strength that left him awed.
Standing there against the door, Brand toed off his shoes, bent to remove his socks, then stripped off his shirt. Watching Sahara, he moved to the couch and sat down. “I remember every word you said, everything you promised.”
“Mmm.” She smiled as she came to stand before him. “So do I.”
“Take off your panties.”
“You’re still wearing your jeans.”
Yeah, they’d stay on a while longer—at least until he got her off. After all the verbal foreplay, he didn’t trust his control, but he could see in the flush of Sahara’s skin, the tightness of her nipples, that she needed release.
Her teasing had teased her also.
“Take them off, Sahara.”
She hesitated, but only for a second. “So I’m to be naked while you’re not? Does that mean you plan to touch me?”
“It does.”
Her smile warmed. “I can handle that.” She peeled off the tiny strip of lace she called underwear.
Brand patted his thighs. “Come here.”
When she started to sit on his lap, he stopped her, using his hands to guide her over his thighs so that she straddled him instead. With his hands on her narrow back, he bent her toward him—and latched onto her left nipple, sucking strongly.
The pleasure was so keen, she almost lurched away.
He enjoyed saying, “Stay still.”
“Brand,” she moaned.
“Shh.” He switched to the other nipple, sucking, licking, leaving it as ripe as the left. He liked the way Sahara squirmed, the little sounds she made, how her fingers clenched in his hair.
Kissing a trail to her throat, he murmured, “I love how you taste.” He drifted his hands down her back to her hips, rocking her against the ridge of his erection beneath worn denim. Once she caught his rhythm, he went back to touching her, kissing her. He curved both hands over the globes of her ass, kneading the firm flesh. “Will you like how I taste?”
Arrested, she shuddered and said, “Should I find out?”
“Yeah.” Hell yeah. “Sounds like a plan.” Holding her arms just above her elbows, he eased her back and off his thighs, then urged her down to her knees.
Looking even more excited, Sahara said, “Now you’ll take off your jeans?”
He shook his head, slumped into the couch, and stretched his arms out along the back. “You can unzip them.”
Sahara licked her lips and smiled. “This feels like a challenge.” Her fingers touched the snap to his jeans. “I like it.”