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pleaded for surrender.
Stop, she whispered pleadingly. Please stop, Sam.
He s not just fucking his brother s lover, Sarah, his voice was gentle, but the words cut at her like a
knife. He s reassuring his brother. He s giving him a hug. He s promising him he ll be careful. He s
shedding tears for Cade s sacrifices for him. Do you understand that?
The pain of the act Brock was committing was suddenly gone, replaced by the agonizing lance of grief.
The reminder of the pain, the scars inflicted on his soul. Not just his soul. Cade s, Sam s. And now hers
as well.
I understand. She whispered, trembling, terrified of the emotions, the arousal pulsing through her
body.
He released her slowly. Sarah took a hard, relieved breath, then moved quickly from the room. Away
from Brock s brother, away from his grief and his lust. But she knew she couldn t forget it. She couldn t
escape it. The silky slide of her own arousal on her thighs would ensure that.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Your brother does not belong in my house. Sarah s surprising greeting was his welcome into the house
that evening.
Brock paused for a moment, seeing the agitation in her body, the shade of guilt in her eyes and hid his
smile. His heart swelled with emotion as he watched her, the way her gaze held that shade of
remembered pleasure, arousal. There was a curiosity in her expression that he knew she was unaware of.
It made his cock swell, throb.
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Neither does Tate, but I hear he made a nuisance of himself anyway, Brock told her, carrying the
intimate purchases he had made earlier to the counter. Why didn t you leave the door locked after I
left?
She shrugged. He has the key. I never changed the locks.
Brock stared at her in surprise. For a moment, he couldn t actually believe she had said that.
Why not? He fought to hang onto his control.
Just didn t get around to it. She walked over to the bag, opening and peeking inside.
Brock was distracted from his anger at her easy acceptance of Mark walking in whenever he liked. He
watched her eyes widen, her face flush as she glimpsed his purchases. Her lips opened as though to
speak. Closed. Opened again. Finally, she clamped them shut and turned her gaze to him hesitantly as
she swallowed tightly. His anger over the locks dissolved. Fuck it, he could fix the locks himself.
What s for dinner? He wasn t about to give her the chance to refuse him. What s in the bag is for
later.
She blinked, a little shocked. A little confused. Chicken from KFC. I don t cook much.
He smiled. I ll take a breast and thigh, hon. My favorite pieces.
Sarah gave an unladylike snort. Not the piece I was thinking about, but whatever.
I have to shower. He patted her rear in payment for her remark then headed for the shower.
* * * * *
Brock watched Sarah stomp around the house early that evening. Her angel s face mutinous, her curvy
body stiff and tense as she washed the few dinner dishes, cleaned off the table, ignored the
innocent-looking paper bag in the center of it, then swept the floor. He leaned against the doorframe; his
arms crossed over his chest, his brows lowered into a frown that he knew could intimidate the strongest
adversary. But Sarah only ignored him. Him and the contents of the bag.
Not that he had expected her to accept this without a fight. Hell, he may even end up on her shit list for
all time, but he didn t think he would. He had seen the flare of curiosity in her eyes, the spark of arousal
before her body stiffened and she became queen bitch for the evening.
He hid his grin. She could put the stubborn on better than any woman he knew or heard tale of. But he
could be just as determined; she would find that out quickly.
You should have got the locks changed after you got home from work.
Brock worried about this Mark thing. Her ex-husband didn t seem too willing to let her go.
I ll get it done. She washed her hands in the sink after sweeping the non-existent dust into a dustpan
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and tapping it into the garbage can. I ll call in the morning.
Sam will take care of it in the morning instead, he told her. I trust him to take care of the job right with
those locks he ordered this morning.
She frowned at that; evidently, she didn t care much for the thought of Sam coming out again. She was
nervous around him, his brother had reported, nervous and expectant, as though she expected him to
jump her at any second. She was displaying those same signs now.
You were with Marly today, she whispered the words without heat, surprising him with the change of
subject.
Brock stared at her for long moments. There was no anger, no recrimination, just a quiet fight for
understanding. He didn t know what to say to her, didn t want to hurt her.
I was with Marly, he agreed sadly. God he wished he could make it easier for her. Make her
understand.
You fucked her. He watched her take a deep, steadying breath.
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