“Seriously? Get real, Zach.” He felt her hands pulling off his shoes, heard them hit the floor one at a time. “Because, seriously? You are full of shit.” Carefully, with a surprisingly gentle touch considering the sarcasm in her voice, she helped him out of his shirt. “So what else did Tommy say?”

“That I’ve pissed off the arsonist.”

She went still. “You’re in danger?”

“I’m safe here.”

Her eyes searched his as her hands slid over his bare chest.

Instead of the pain he’d felt for days, all he felt was the touch of her warm hands. She was better than Vicodin. Then she trailed those hands down and reached for the buttons on his Levi’s. “You still need my help, right?”

Oh, yeah. He nodded, and pop went the first button. And then the second, and suddenly Zach was breathing as if he’d been running.

She wasn’t breathing too steadily, either.

“Okay, maybe I’d better do this.” His hands were shaking as he pulled open the rest of the buttons, but shoving the denim down his legs required grating his teeth and lifting his hips. By the time he got them down a mere inch, he was beginning to sweat.

“Here.” She got on the bed for leverage, straddling his lower legs, and pulled his jeans down to his thighs, revealing the fact that he’d gone commando that morning.

Which left the part of him that was the happiest to see her bouncing free.

Her eyes widened.

“I told you I should do this.”

“I’m sorry.” She was still staring.

“Not helping.”

At that, Brooke actually snickered, but he could hear the breathlessness in the sound.

And the wanting.

“Yeah,” he managed. “Still not helping.”

“Right.” She scrambled off his legs.

Good. Great. She was going away. But then she pulled his jeans the rest of the way off, tossing them to the floor. Leaving him buck naked.

“You…need a blanket.”

Which was beneath him. He rolled toward her just as she leaned in to try to pull it out from under him, and they bumped into each other.

“Sorry,” she gasped, but in countering her own movement, she bumped into him again.

They went utterly still.

He had his hands on her arms. She had hers braced on his chest, and she was still staring at the part of him boring a hold in her belly.

“Zach?” she whispered.

“Yeah?”

“You seem to need some…” Her gaze met his. “Letting loose.”

He laughed, which hurt like a son of a bitch.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s just what I need.” You… And with that, he tugged her overtop of him.

AT THE FULL BODY CONTACT with Zach, what happened within Brooke was what happened every time—a shockingly intense, insatiable hunger arose. “Zach—”

“I know. Condom.”