“Your place?” I ask.
“Yup,” Brock answers.
I had no clue this was our destination for the evening, and for this, I’m feeling overdressed. Considering the topics covered in the last twenty minutes, it’s only now I realize Brock’s wearing low-hung jeans and a graphic T-shirt. Brock plays a gentleman, stepping from the vehicle and opening my door. With my hand in his, my heels hit the asphalt, my eyes taking in the painted purple sky and setting sun. A warm breeze hugs my skin, the smell of fresh seafood invading my nose as Brock leads me toward an elevator. My heart pounds over the laughter from drunken partygoers flocking the downtown area.
“You look nervous,” Brock says, his face cool and collected. He pushes the button for the fifteenth floor. “Do I scare you?”
“You asked me that already. And I told you no.”
He brings his knuckles to my cheek. “I think you’re lying.”
“And, as usual, I think you’re a wiseass,” I retort, relishing in the caress of his knuckles stroking down my collarbone. “A wiseass who has no right talking about lying.”
My stomach twists with guilt. I almost raped his best friend today. Who’s the bigger liar?
Brock leans into my ear, his lips flirting with it. “You got me there. I did lie. And I apologized for it. If I have to pay penance to you for my shitty lie every single day, I will. Never put anything past me. Besides, I’m sure I could conjure up quite a few . . . intriguing ways to make you enjoy my apology.” With a smirk, he grips my waist, his words a soft whisper. “Do you have any secrets, my mysterious, beautiful Ber?”
I attempt to ignore the sexual potency he exudes. The sexual potency I want nothing more than to absorb into my skin. Our conversation from the lake sparks through my head. “It’s human nature to lie. We pick it up before we can even walk. Still, none of my lies or secrets will ever . . . hurt you.”
Brock pulls me flush to his chest and nips my ear, the delicious sting causing my thighs to involuntarily clench. “Ah, I see. Now you have me wondering just how sweet your lies will taste on my tongue.”
Air punches from my lungs, my heart evaporating into a mist of crimson as the elevator doors part, breaking me from the ridiculous trance he so effortlessly put me under. He smiles, reaches for my hand, and guides me down the hall to his unit.
I glimpse a blade of light creeping from the kitchen as I step into his dimly lit condo. Still, I can easily make out claret-red walls, shadows slapping across polished maple floors as I scan the impressive space. It’s filled with what appears to be black leather couches and large mahogany furniture. Either he had a longtime girlfriend who spread her flair for design all over the place, or he hired someone to do it. Needless to say, the lavishness in which he lives nearly drops me.
“Welcome to mi casa.” His gaze slides from mine as he flips on a lamp. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable while I prepare dinner.”
Convinced he was ordering takeout, I cock a shocked brow. “You cook?”
“These hands,” he says, lifting both, “possess many talents. Cooking’s the most minor of them all. Stick around long enough, and I bet your body will agree.”
I shake my head. “You’re extremely sure of yourself.”
“In more ways than you could ever imagine,” he answers, an edge of playfulness in his tone as he takes my purse. Along with his keys and a knot of cash, he drops it onto a bar dripping with black granite. “In all seriousness, you’re hungry, right?”
I nod and walk over to a set of French doors, my eyes exploring a balcony overlooking the bay. “Depends. What are you cooking?”
“With the help of this here handy microwave and Orville Redenbacher, the popcorn I promised you when my ‘killer pickup lines’ won you over the day we met.”
I turn and, sure as shit, he’s pulled out a bag. “You’re kidding me.”
A chuckle barrels from his chest as he tosses the bag into the microwave. Flashing his pearly whites, he moves toward the refrigerator, pulls out a six-pack of Red Bull, and sets it on the island. “Do I look like I’m kidding, my mysterious Ber?”
I roll my eyes. “Why the need for a nickname?”
Cool amusement hits his face as he leans against the counter, his arms crossed. “Because it’s our secret joke, and you’re my . . . pet.”
“Your pet?”
“Yes. My pet.” Seduction laces his low growl. He steps in front of me, a soft smile sliding across his mouth. “Is that okay with you?” Before I can answer, he dips his head to my ear and whispers, “I handle my pets with special care, always making sure their needs come first.” He moves his lips to my jaw, his hands finding my waist. “Their pleasure is what brings mine. I fucking drown in it. Their soft moans.” He licks the contour of my jaw, a deep groan rumbling from his chest. “The way their bodies tremble.” He pulls me closer, his hardening erection pressed to my stomach. “The sweat glistening on their skin. Their sweet scent before, during, and especially after I place my stamp on them.” He backs me against the opposite counter, his lips landing on mine. “I’ll do anything to see them reach their . . . happy place.”
Delicious heat coils through me, my heart thwacking uncontrollably. Though my eyes slipped closed somewhere around “glistening skin,” I feel Brock’s smirk.
He grips my waist harder. “Do you like being in that happy place?”
“Yes,” I whisper, opening my eyes.