A grin quirks the side of his mouth. “Quick change of subject.”
“Well, she approached me while I was waiting for you to finish up practice.” I shrug, trying to play it cool despite desperately wanting to know their story. “She made it seem like you two have some kind of past. One I’m positive didn’t end on a good note.”
Anger flashes across his face, washing his expression into something that disturbs yet intrigues me. “What the hell did she tell you?”
A hard tug on my line pulls my attention away from him, my gaze flitting to the water. “I don’t know. Some shit about you appearing to be the way you want everyone to think you are. That it’s all an act and, within time, I’ll see you for who you really are.” A second tug, this one violent. I jump to my feet and attempt to reel in whatever’s on the other end.
Brock hops up and positions himself behind me. Large hands seeking mine, his chest is pressed tight to my back, his chiseled jaw cushioned against my cheek, as he aids my fight with what I’m sure is Jaws. Though I’m trying hard to concentrate on the task at hand, every nerve ending fires, heat simmering in my bones as we continue to brawl with nature. A second goes by, and the line snaps, sending us both flailing backward onto the pier with a thud loud enough to shake the wooden structure.
Staring up at the cloudless sky, lying on top of Brock’s chest, I giggle. He bursts out laughing, the sound heaven to my ears as I take in the unexpected moment. Still giggling, I attempt to get off him, but with viperous speed, Brock stops me by resting his palms on the flat of my stomach, gently tugging me back down onto him.
“No,” he whispers, his nose buried in my hair. “I want to stay like this for a minute. I’m digging the way you feel in my arms.”
The drowsy cadence of his voice slips through me, centering deep within my belly. I swallow, acutely aware of his soft fingertips dragging up my bare rib cage, our breathing turning into lyrical notes of want punching from our lungs as I digest his words.
“Turn over,” he says, his tone soft but authoritative. “I want to see your beautiful face.”
Not an ounce of rebellion runs through me as I obey his request, adjusting my body to his. Chest to chest, his gaze devours me, stroking between my eyes and lips. Brock’s hands find my cheeks, his touch causing a delicious fog to overrun my mind, their warmth expelling every fear I had about opening my heart to him. My entire being focuses on the way he’s staring at me, his dark rain forest eyes dominant with urgency to taste my lips, but still patient as he waits for permission. Sparks whisk through my nerves as I melt into the sensation of his fingers sinking into my hair, their adept movements eliciting a violent tremble deep within my core. I nearly go liquid as he lifts his knee, wedging it between my legs.
“I’m gonna kiss you, Ber.” His words come out as a husky whisper as he lifts his head, pulling my face a breath away from his. “And it’s gonna be a kiss you won’t soon forget. It’s gonna be a kiss I want burned into your fucking memory whether or not we get together. One that’ll make you hate every other kiss from anyone else after me. You’ll have no other choice but to think of this kiss when another dude gets his lucky chance. Cool?”
Nervous, I nod, my pulse thudding in anticipation as our gazes connect with a sizzle right before he brings his lips up to mine. The kiss starts off soft and slow, a sinuous trail of desire testing limits and exploring unknown turf. Brock’s lips are silk, the taste of his tongue tinged with mint and beer.
I love the parallel between the two.
A primitive groan rocks from his throat as he pulls me tighter to him, one hand caressing my nape, the other buried in my hair. My nipples awaken, my heart stuttering like a worn-out engine. Ecstasy floods me, washing away the world around us. I barely register the hum of boats, birds, and people as the intensity of our want explodes, unleashing a string of harder strokes from our tongues. Brock moves his hands down my rib cage, his thumbs kneading the sides of my breasts along their journey. His touch is gasoline to my fire, fueling the maelstrom inside me as a soft symphony of moans fall past my lips. My head’s dizzy, my body high from his touch, its rapture for him already an addict.
“You taste so sweet,” he growls, nipping at my lip as his hands find their way back to my cheeks. The sticky air stirs with the sound of our heavy breathing as he pulls me closer, tighter against his chest. He licks into my mouth, his kiss reverent, skillful, one I’m sure will hold its weight against future contenders. “So fucking sweet.”
“You don’t taste too bad yourself,” I purr, twining my fingers through his hair.
He smiles against my mouth. “Do I taste better than . . . Twizzlers?”
“Now you’re pushing it, buddy,” I playfully warn. Brock chuckles as I move my lips to his jaw, teasing my tongue over his stubble. “And I want to keep tasting you, but you still haven’t answered my question.”
“What question?” he probes, dusting additional mind-fucking kisses along my neck as he settles his hands on my waist and squeezes. “Seeing that I’m preoccupied with something insanely delicious right now, something I plan on repeating as often as possible, I don’t recall you asking a question.”
I shiver, close to trembling in the midday heat. God, this feels so good. He feels so good.
“Hailey,” I remind him, smiling angelically. “You two had something?”
He rests his head on the pier, a shadow of aggravation passing over his face. “You sure know how to kill a mood, eh?”