He shook his head as he turned to the fridge and grabbed me a drink. We lingered in the kitchen for a while, watching Rhage investigate every nook and cranny.
Eventually, Brock took me on the tour, through the dining room that was occupied by a dining set that had yet to be used. There were two living rooms. Well, according to Brock one was a living room and one was a media room, whatever that meant. I saw he had a huge-ass TV in one, and the other just had chairs and plants that could’ve been borrowed from my mom’s sunroom.
There was a study he had set up, and in there were more photos from when he was fighting. They hung on the walls, beside another large TV.
“You still haven’t unpacked completely, have you?” I gestured at the two large boxes in the corner. There had been a few in the living room as well.
He laughed as he led me out of the office. “I keep meaning to do it, but I’ve been focused on that kitchen.” He slid me a long look. “And you.”
A giddy smile tugged at my lips. “I should feel bad for sucking up your time.”
“But you don’t.”
“Nope.”
Brock picked up the bags he’d placed down earlier and led me upstairs. “There’s four bedrooms up here. I have a guest room set up. Nothing too exciting in there. Eventually I’ll do something with the other rooms.”
Following him down the wide hall to open double doors, I had to think this was the kind of house for a large family. And he wanted kids. Not an entire team of them like my uncle had, but he did want babies. I realized that maybe Brock was ready to truly settle down and start a family.
Brock moved ahead, turning on a bedside lamp, and I got my first look at his room. Like the rest of the house, it was a bit bare.
There was a wide dresser with a mirror beside doors that either led into the bathroom or closet. There was another dresser opposite the doors leading out onto the deck, and there were two nightstands. Other than a few wooden boxes on the dresser, the kind that looked like someone would stash fine tobacco in, there weren’t many personal items.
Nothing truly looked lived in.
With anyone else, this might’ve concerned me, but Brock had never been into decorating. His room at my parents’ house and his apartment when he was younger had been the same way.
My gaze roamed over the room and then stopped. I stared at the large bed in the center of the room and my stomach dipped. Tonight would be different. This I knew. I didn’t know how. Maybe it was instinct. Who knew? But tonight was not going to be like any other time.
Little knots of anxiousness filled me as I crossed the large bedroom, approaching a bay window. Pulling the curtains back, I peeked outside. Beyond the trees, I could see the moon reflecting off the slowly churning waters of the Potomac.
Glancing over my shoulder, I watched Brock pick up a small candle from the dresser and light it. He grinned in my direction as he placed the candle on the nightstand.
After a few seconds, the scent of honeycrisp apples reached me. “Are you sure you’re okay with Rhage running around?” Nervous, I fidgeted with the curtains, running my fingers over them. “He will use the litter box, but I can’t promise he won’t be into everything.”
“It’s okay.”
“He’ll destroy something. I’m positive.”
“He’ll be fine.”
Turning to face him, I watched him strip off the loose sweater he wore, tossing it onto a chair in the corner. The plain white shirt came off next, and then there was his beautiful upper body, all on display.
My mouth dried as my gaze dipped, taking in those taut ripples and those amazing indentations on either side of his hips.
Why, with a body like his, was he interested in a body like mine?
That was a question no one would ever be able to answer.
He wore no belt so those pants hung indecently low, so low I realized I could see the band of his tight boxer briefs. My gaze moved over the tattoos. He had a wolf’s head over one pec. The other side of his chest was the start of spreading wings that traveled over his shoulder and flowed into numerous designs that traveled down his entire arm. An archangel raising his sword, surrounded by flames. Underneath that, across his forearm, a skull. Red and black bands gave way to an eye above his wrist. He turned slightly, pulling his phone out of his pocket and placing it on the nightstand. I saw the edges of the phoenix rising from ashes and fire. The tattoo was huge, covering his upper and middle back.
I wondered if he’d get more.
“You like what you see?”
Flushing, I dragged my gaze back to his. “Do you really have to ask that question?”
One side of his lips kicked up and my gaze dipped once more, snagging on the silver chain around his neck. I started to look away, back to those amazing lower abs, but I saw what dangled from his neck.
My breath halted in my lungs.
My heart stopped.
My lips parted on a sharp inhale as my hand flew to my mouth, my fingers pressing against my lips.
Concern flitted across Brock’s striking features. “Jillian, you okay?”
I couldn’t speak as I stared at the tiny medallion hanging from his neck, and I felt dizzy, like I would fall right over. I recognized that necklace even though I hadn’t seen it in six years.
“Jillian?” He strode toward me. “What is—?”
“The necklace.” I let out a shaky breath. “You have the necklace.”
For a moment, he looked confused as he lifted his hand and placed his palm over the medallion. Understanding settled. “You didn’t know?”
“No,” I whispered, blinking back sudden tears.