He grabbed four cameras off the shelf and threw them in the basket she was holding. “I’m not cranky because we had sex. I’m fucking furious that there’s some asshole out there who thinks he gets to decide whether you feel pain or not.”
Remi shut her mouth.
“I’m full of rage thinking that this man—this fucking predator—believes he is in charge of whether you live or die. I’m livid knowing this motherfucker is out there walking around consequence-free while you’re here with a broken arm afraid of the dark because of him.”
“Brick—”
“He had no right to make you fear anything. He had no right to take that fearlessness of yours that drives me crazy on a good day. No right to put those shadows in your eyes. And he sure as fuck had no right to lay hands on his wife.”
It was the longest speech she’d ever heard him make. The possessiveness, the unmitigated rage he felt because someone dared cause her pain burrowed itself into her chest and planted roots.
She laid a hand on his arm, noticing how rigid the muscle was. “It’s going to be okay,” she promised.
He turned to face her. “You’re damn right it’s going to be okay.”
“We’ll make him pay, right?”
He nodded solemnly. “He’ll pay.”
“And Camille will be safe?”
“You won’t have anything to worry about,” Brick promised, his voice fierce.
She knew it was silly. She knew it was impossible for him to make that promise and keep it. But just knowing that he was willing to share her burden gave her enough space to think more clearly. But his certainty, his over-the-top protective instincts, still made her believe.
She wanted to kiss him. To slip her hands under his coat and lose herself in a kiss that would make her forget everything except how much he wanted her.
“Oh, my. Well, isn’t this cozy?” Mira Rathbun appeared at the end of the aisle, looking like she’d just stumbled upon the juicy story of the century.
Remi took a step back from Brick. The last thing she needed was the scrutiny of the entire island gossiping about them. “Brick was just helping me…”
Helping her what? Up her orgasm level?
The man slung a possessive arm around her shoulder and hauled her up against his side. Remi gave an awkward laugh and tried to extricate herself from his grasp. But the wall of man was stronger, more stubborn.
“Nice to see you, Mira,” Brick said.
“What are you doing?” Remi hissed at him.
Mira looked positively delighted. “Are you two together?”
“No,” Remi said.
“Yes,” he said.
She glared up at him, wondering if he’d had so many orgasms he’d lost his damn mind. “You’ll have to excuse Brick,” she said through gritted teeth. “I think he hit his head or something. He’s been saying crazy things all day.”
“And all night,” he said, giving her a wolfish smile. “Isn’t that right, Remi Honey?”
Remi shot him her best “you are a dead man” look as her cheeks burned.
“You’ve got a little bruise here, Remi,” Mira said with a smirk, pointing to her own neck.
Remi slapped a hand over the area. “I-I walked into a door.”
“With teeth,” Brick said wolfishly.
Mira fanned herself with her shopping list. “Oh, my. I am just so delighted for you two!”
“We’re not together,” Remi said, panic building in her chest. She renewed her struggles in his grip, but he merely tightened his hold on her.
“She’s such a kidder,” Brick said with affection. “We’re really happy.”
Then, as if he hadn’t already done enough damage, he grabbed her by the front of the coat and hauled her to her tiptoes before kissing the ever-loving hell out of her. She put up a good fight for about two seconds before losing herself to his heat, to the assault of his tongue, the domination of his will over hers.
When he pulled back, she clung limply to him.
“Well, I’ll leave you two love birds to your shopping,” Mira said, already digging out her phone and practically sprinting from the store.
“What. Were. You. Thinking?” Remi said, emphasizing each word with a smack to Brick’s concrete chest. “She’s going to tell everyone we’re together.”
“We are together, and if you tell me we’re not, I’m going to fuck that tight little pussy of yours until you agree.”
Her mouth fell open as an entire movie reel of very appealing images played in her head. She gave herself a little shake. “You don’t get to just decide that we’re in a relationship and then tell the biggest gossip on the island.” She threw up her hands. “Oh my God, what am I supposed to say to my mother?”
“She already knows,” he said, guiding her up to the register with one hand on her neck.
“She what?”
Her screech had the clerk raising his eyebrows.
“What. Did. You. Do?”
It was a shame she’d have to murder Brick so soon after discovering his prowess in bed.
He handed the cameras over to the clerk, keeping a possessive arm around her. “How’s it going, Randall?”
Randall had graduated two years ahead of Remi. He knew the signs of an impending implosion. She managed to keep a lid on her temper until they were outside again. It was a gray, icy day, which meant fewer witnesses on the streets.
“William Eugene Callan,” Remi said, digging her heels in when he pulled her toward his snowmobile.
He came to a halt and rounded on her. “If you think for one second that I’m going to let you pretend that last night didn’t happen or that it didn’t mean what we both know it meant, you are sorely mistaken, Remington. I’ll be happy to educate you the second we get back to my house.”
She gave a gasp of indignation. “Educate me?”
He leaned down until his lips brushed her ear, his beard grazing her throat. “I will walk in the door, drag those pants to your knees, and bend you over the stairs to remind you.”
Her legs turned to wet noodles, and she almost crumpled to the sidewalk.
“Are you wet just picturing it? I’ll slap that sweet little ass of yours so hard, every man on this island will hear you scream my name and know you belong to me.”
Wet didn’t begin to describe what was happening between her legs. Her vagina was going to need a life preserver. Her nipples had turned to hard points, and she didn’t know what was happening on her face, but Brick clearly liked it. He tossed the bag on the seat of the snowmobile, then dragged her down the side of the building. Before she could lay into him and remind him that she made her own life decisions, he shoved her up against the wall and closed his mouth over hers.
Hard, demanding. He was doing more than seducing her. He was possessing.
She could out-argue and out-stubborn the man any day. But out-kiss him? That was impossible.
Her body reacted on its own, going pliant and loose against him. Welcoming that invasion, with its heat and friction. When he ground his hips against her, she felt the swollen length of his arousal.
On a low growl, he pushed a hand up under her sweater and palmed her breast.
“Do you feel how much I need you?” he rasped, pressing his erection into her belly.