Not going there, not yet. He kicked the door shut, tugging her upstairs to his bedroom.

She stared at his bed. “First I really need to tell you what I came for—”

“You haven’t come yet.” He nudged her onto the bed and followed her down. “But you’re going to.”

18

ZACH’S WORDS sent a shiver of desire skittering down Brooke’s spine. In his eyes was a fierce intensity—for her, which she loved, but also the same grief she’d seen in Cristina’s.

He knew about Blake.

He kissed her, hard. She knew he was hurting and destroyed over Blake’s betrayal, that he was trying to lose himself in her. She understood. She wanted to get lost in him, too.

He pulled off her shirt, and she did the same for his, sliding her hands up his heated skin, feeling the hard planes beneath quiver for more. “Are we letting loose again?”

“No.” His mouth slid over her neck, her shoulder, making its way toward a breast. “This time it’s more, damn it.” He curled his tongue around her nipple.

Sinking her fingers into his hair, she arched up into his mouth. “More?”

“Everything’s all fucked up.” His voice was low, raw, as he slid a hand into her panties.

His physical pain matched the mental anguish in his eyes, and both broke her heart. “I know.”

“Except this, with you.” He tugged her panties down to her thighs to give him better access. “I don’t usually do this.”

“Pull a woman’s pants down?”

“No, smart-ass. Get into a relationship.”

When his gaze caught hers, she couldn’t look away. “Is that what we’re doing?”

“I thought you were safe. You’re leaving, for Christ’s sake. You’re outta here. Can’t get much safer than that.”

Moved by his pain and frustration, she pressed her forehead to his. “Zach.”

“I mean, I wasn’t going to fall for a woman with one foot already out the door. It was never going to happen.”

She closed her eyes.

“But goddamn it, it did.”

Before she could open her mouth, he covered it with his. Reality had no place then, no place at all. Until she smelled smoke. “Zach—”

“I know. We’re both idiots.”

“No.” She coughed. “Smoke.”

“Uh-huh. I think I’m on fire.”

“No, I mean real smoke.” Just as she said this, his smoke alarm went off.

“What the—” Eyes hot, body hard, his face was a mask of frustration as he lifted his head and sniffed the air. “Shit, it is smoke.” He pulled free and leaped off the bed, staring at the wisps curling beneath the bedroom door.

“Zach!”

“I see it.” He tossed her his phone from the night-stand. “Call it in!” He ran into the bathroom, coming out with towels, which he shoved under the door to block the smoke while she called 911.