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Impulsively (Dante's Nine MC #3) Page 33
Author: Colleen Masters

“You’re amazing, Keira,” Brooks tells me, his voice low and husky.

“You called me Keira,” I say, taken aback, “What happened to Red?”

Brooks shrugs at my observation, smiling down at me in the darkness. But my own heart threatens to split in two. He has no idea that my real name isn’t Keira, or Red, but Quinn. He doesn’t know the first thing about me. And yet, for all that, I feel closer to him than any man I’ve ever met. How am I supposed to walk away from this, once the investigation is over? What choice do I have?

“What’s the matter?” he asks, lowering himself back to the ground. He fetches my jeans and helps me into them as I shake my head in wonder.

“I, uh...” I stammer. “I didn’t expect the night to go this way.”

“But you’re happy it did, aren’t you?” he asks, helping me to stand. My knees are weak, my body throbs with sated contentment.

“Oh yeah,” I grin, resting my hands on the front of his cut, “happy doesn’t begin to cover it, Brooks.”

“I don’t know about you,” he says, his hands finding the small of my back, “but I could use a smoke right about now.”

“Bum me one?” I ask, lacing my fingers with his.

“Only because I like you,” he winks, tugging me toward the exit.

We walk out of the Forty-Five Club hand in hand, slamming the front door behind us. I realize with a laugh that we’ve never held hands before this moment. It’s strange how the smallest gestures can still feel so intimate.

I take a stumbling step as my thoughts catch up with me. I stare up at him in the moonlight, studying the outline of his profile as he looses a Marlboro and slips it between his lips. I can feel that pulsing pressure in my core once again, only this time I realize that it’s more than lust building inside me.

I’m seriously falling for Caleb Brooks.

“For you,” Brooks smiles, handing me a cigarette of my own.

“Thank Christ,” I mutter, inhaling deeply as Brooks sparks the lighter to life. “I need this right about now.”

“I know what you mean,” he laughs, leaning against the brick wall of the bar.

Could he really know what I mean, I wonder? I study him in the darkness, cataloguing every part of his perfect self. Is it possible that someone like Brooks could come to love me? The real me? It doesn’t do me any good if he only falls for Keira, after all. But I’m starting to realize that my alias and I aren’t too different. Except for, you know, the whole FBI thing.

“I’m glad you wanted to get out of the Playpen so badly,” Brooks says, pulling me toward him. He slings an arm over my shoulders, dragging on his cigarette as he stares up at the starry night sky.

“Guess I’m still getting used to this world,” I say softly, watching the smoke catch on the light wind.

“Is that something you’d want?” Brooks asks gruffly, glancing at me. “To, uh, get used to this life?”

“You asking me to stick around, Brooks?” I smile, my pulse quickening.

“I am. Yeah,” he says, his voice as soft as I’ve ever heard it. “I like having you around, Red. And look—it turns out you’re a decent lay too.”

“You asshole,” I laugh, elbowing him in the ribs. I’m grateful for him lightening the mood, I have to admit.

“You love it,” he says, taking a long drag.

And he’s right. I do love it.

Chapter Thirteen

Now that we’ve finally had each other, Brooks and let our insatiability rule us. The next few days pass in a whirl of sexual frenzy. We only had to spend a week wanting each other. Technically. But now that I know what it’s like to be with Brooks, I realize that I’ve been waiting my whole life for someone to make me feel this way. With him, I feel sexy. Wanted. But it’s not just that. I’m as hungry to give him pleasure as he is to give it. For the first time, I’ve found someone who takes the “partner” part of sexual partner seriously.

And it’s incredible.

We fall into each other’s arms every chance that we get. At the penthouse, at the Forty-Five Club, under the stars off some deserted dirt road. Beds, couches, spread-out blankets—we settle for any surface that will accommodate us. Only one place has remained off limits so far: my FBI-issued apartment. I even brave the Devil’s Playpen a couple more times, Bruno be damned. But I don’t catch sight of him again.

It’s been radio silence from Bruno since our run in the other night. I’ve checked in with Mitchell over the phone, but haven’t been expected at the field office. Not until today, that is—the Tuesday after that fateful Friday night. I try not to think about my viciously territorial fellow agent as I spend the weekend memorizing Brooks’ body. For the most part, it’s easy to do. But as I drift to sleep each night, the angry gaze of Jeff Bruno swims up in my mind’s eye.

I can’t imagine why, but I have the feeling that there’s much to fear from this person. And it’s not my mind or my heart telling me not to trust him, it’s my gut. And my gut is never wrong.

On the morning I’m due at the field office once again, I wake up in Brooks’ penthouse bedroom. We’ve made no effort to hide our affair from Kassie and Kelly, nor any of the others. There would be no reason to. Outlaws are far less touchy about sexual promiscuity, it turns out. And thank god—I’m already hiding enough, posing as Keira Campbell. I don’t think I could stand to hide my feelings for Brooks, too.

I steal a glance at my man’s sleeping face. His hard, sculpted features are softened by slumber and stillness. Gently, so as not to wake him, I brush my fingers against his sharp jaw, his perfectly full lips, the scar bisecting his brow. I have yet to tell Brooks just how hard I’ve fallen for him. How could I? For all I know, I could be ripped out of this entire life in less than a week. No use letting him get any more attached than he has to.

Slipping out from under his thickly muscled arm, I throw on yesterday’s clothes and steal out into the day. I ease the penthouse door shut behind me and summon the elevator to the top floor. Just as the car arrives, the door marked “A” swings open, and Kassie steps out into the hallway. She’s dressed in stylish gym clothes, her long blonde hair drawn into a high ponytail and she looks pleasantly surprised as she spots me in the hallway.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she chuckles, giving me a hug.

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Colleen Masters's Novels
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» Imperfectly (Dante's Nine MC #2)
» Impossibly (Dante's Nine MC #1)
» Stepbrother Billionaire
» Stepbrother Untouchable