Taking the Heat Read Free Page B

was arrogant and well aware that he was her weak spot, but getting her into bed wasn’t about getting laid. If sex was all he was after, he could pick up someone at the diner. If he set his mind to it, he could have a woman against a wall before his food got cold. He was hot as hell and radiated dark sex appeal, but what really drew the chicks like flies was the dangerous remoteness about him. Brian was a real-life American antihero and he was impossible to pin down, which only made women want to try harder. God knew she’d tried.
    But the same couldn’t be said in reverse—Brian knew how to get to her. He knew how to strip her defenses until she was wide open to him, and that’s certainly what he’d been thinking about when he was picking up such optimistic items. The pleasure wasn’t the goal; it was a means to an end.
    Her consolation was that when she was laid bare, he willingly opened himself to her in return. In bed, inside her, was the one place where he gave her all of himself. She wished he would take those risks with her in the real world. That’s all she’d ever wanted.
    Tossing the condoms on the bed and the lube in the nightstand drawer, Layla headed into the bathroom and closed the door. With the click of the latch, her shoulders drooped, taking her by surprise. Her chest grew tight, the moment of privacy revealing how vulnerable she really was, something she’d suppressed all afternoon without realizing it. Grief and regret rushed over her like an avalanche. She stumbled into the shower stall, her head bowing beneath the hastily turned on water. Tears flowed. Her chest shook with sobs. Gripping her lower lip in her teeth, she stemmed the sounds that would have betrayed her fragility.
    It would be so easy to turn to Brian, to fall apart on him and take the comfort he would give her without reproach or hesitation. But they both needed her to be strong now. She couldn’t distract him. He was one man transporting a witness who was supposed to have a half dozen of the Marshals Services’s top deputies keeping her safe. Shadow Stalkers they were called. Special ops deputies who most often hailed from military special forces like Brian did.
    It was his acceptance into the Shadow Stalkers that had broken them apart. After losing her father and brother to military service, she’d been determined not to lose Brian, too. He’d led her to believe that leaving the Navy was a new road for him, but it hadn’t been a safer road; not after he volunteered to be a Shadow Stalker. She couldn’t forgive him for what she’d thought at the time was a monumental deception and callous disregard for her concerns.
    When she returned to the bedroom, Brian was back. The room smelled like tasty greasy food and he was glaring at the turned off television with his hands on his hips. He’d ditched his shoes and his flannel, leaving him in jeans and a fitted T-shirt, with his holster strapped around his shoulders.
    Layla paused midstep, her uplifted hands stilling in the act of scrubbing her hair dry with a towel.
    It struck her abruptly: she felt safe.
    He couldn’t know what that meant to her. Feeling safe was a comfort she’d thought she’d lost forever that night in Mexico. And yet the sight of him, so strong and confident, so determined, made her feel like nothing could get to her. Anyone who wanted her would have to get through Brian first and she couldn’t see that happening.
    He gestured at the condoms in the middle of the mattress, his green eyes hard as jade. “Contrary to what you might think, I wasn’t planning on fucking you tonight.”
    “I could tell.”
    “Smart ass.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t want you sleeping alone tonight. You’ve had a rough day. The inspector you’ve been talking to for years died in front of you. I know you, sweetheart. You can’t just shrug that off. You’re hurting and you’re bottling it up.”
    Her throat tightened and she shook her head, warning him