He brushed the hair off her cheek, pinning it behind an ear, and kissed her cheek. He lingered, letting his hips feel their fire, and he breathed in summer and sunshine. A nice, long breath. Just in case she didn’t show and he needed something to remember.

Brock stepped back. Her eyes were closed. Her chin dropped down. His eyes traveled over her body, memorizing every swell and curve. It was her hands that would stick with him. Palms flat against the wall. Fingers splayed and flexed.

He turned, took his one ticket from the envelope, and left her alone with her thoughts.

CHAPTER THREE

Surprised by the tsunami of skin prickles cascading down her neck, Sarah clung to the wall long after Brock’s heavy footfalls retreated out the front door. Her eyes stayed closed, still seeing him. Feeling him. Craving him.

She slid down the wall, landing in a turned-on mess. He’d always been her superhero. She’d always been his angel. Why did he have to break that out, when she had been struck so vulnerable by his very presence?

The Brock she’d married didn’t run off and talk to therapists. He had all the answers. He’d known all solutions… well, until he didn’t. In years of marriage, they’d had their share of fights. But he’d never been flat-out wrong. Even if she’d accused him of it. Until she and the kids had been taken.

Sarah slipped a hand over her open mouth. For all his muscles, his warrior-like toughness, he’d made himself vulnerable and asked for help. A therapist? It was so unlike him.

But that wasn’t why she plastered herself against the wall and remained on her floor, nearly hyperventilating. His smoky, dark eyes comforted her, even if his arms hadn’t. They’d seared her senseless. She couldn’t help but visually trace the cording of his muscles. The colors tattooed on his arm that she knew spilled onto his back.

He was rock solid. Wide as their house. Defined tall, dark, and deadly. He’d worshipped the ground she walked on. She knew that, and seeing him was a vivid reminder. Her mind was cloudy and confused. Every time she thought of the kids’ safety, she panicked. When she thought of him, she felt betrayed. But when she saw him, Brock broke through the mental barrier she’d erected for protection.

Her phone rang from on top of the table and, sitting on a lump on the floor, she decided to let it go to voice mail.

The kids!