The sensual curve of his mouth sent a round of tingles throughout me. “I couldn’t agree more.” He moved closer, leaning in to catch my mouth with his. I fell against his chest and stayed there. His heart hammered under my palm in time with mine.
Alone in his house, shut out from the rest of the world, it was so easy to pretend nothing else mattered. He was all mine... at least for the weekend. My fingers ran through his hair as his tongue slipped between my lips, and I let him in with a purr. His breath came as hard and fast as mine.
We never made it to the bed, not until he carried me up to his room to sleep.
* * *
I woke up late Sunday afternoon with a low beam of sunlight warming my face. It took a few groggy moments to remember where I was and what I’d done. A silent curse echoed in my head. What was just supposed to be a quick nap had turned into Brock and me dozing for a few hours. He was still asleep beside me, and after spending a creepy amount of time staring at him, I slipped out of bed to use the bathroom. These last few days with him seemed like a dream. Perhaps it was, considering half of it was spent in his bed.
He was still an asshole, just a more friendly, fun ass.
Stretching like a languorous cat, the temptation to crawl back into bed beside him wove within me. It had been months since I slept so soundly, if ever. I couldn’t figure out if it was the sex, Brock, his bed, or all of the above that contributed to the soundless sleep.
Sprawled out over the bed, Brock’s legs were tangled in the sheets so they only covered half his body. I’d never spent a night with a guy before, let alone a weekend. The opportunity had never been there, nor had I ever wanted to. My ex-boyfriend, Harvey, hadn’t been serious, despite my losing my virginity to him. It had been more like a rite of passage. I didn’t regret giving my virginity to Harvey, but things just got too complicated. I couldn’t give him what he wanted. It was easier to end things with him than it should have been.
I didn’t know what that said about me.
Nor did I know what would happen between Brock and me after this weekend.
What the hell had I been thinking, sleeping with him again? He made me lose my mind, but this couldn’t happen again.
I grabbed one of his black T-shirts from the floor and slipped it on. Tiptoeing from his room, I headed downstairs into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. It was strange having this huge-ass house to ourselves. I wasn’t used to the silence. Sitting down at one of the kitchen stools, I thought about making him something to eat but decided against it.
That was too cozy of a gesture. Too girlfriend-like, and we were so not girlfriend-boyfriend material. The idea made me snort.
Unscrewing the water, I took a long drink. Today I went home. How sad that the thought filled me with such dread.
A stack of manila folders sat on the far end of the counter. I didn’t think anything of them and yet… I was pretty sure they hadn’t been there all weekend. Had they? I glanced back to the pile. They looked like just ordinary office files and were probably his parents’. They owned hotels all over the world or something. It wouldn’t be unusual for them to bring their work home with them.
Just one quick peek to satisfy the curiosity that wouldn’t be silent.
Was it wrong to snoop? Yes.
Was I going to do it anyway? Fuck, yes.
I grabbed the edge of a folder and tugged it toward me. My heart plummeted. Carter’s name splashed across the tab in bold handwritten letters.
Okay, now I had an obligation to look inside.
I flipped open the file. My brows drew together as I stared at pictures of Carter and his father. Along with the pictures were photocopied bank records, emails, text messages, and other personal information.
“Oh, God,” I whispered.
Snatching the other folders, I set them in front of me, looking at each one. Steven. Two other football players. And…
My name.
The pounding of my heart roared in my ears.
WTF.
Brock had a fucking investigation file on me?
The asshole.
I tore open the file and gasped as I stared at my own face. One by one, I went through the pictures, but it wasn’t just me. There were images of my dad and mom too. Why the fuck did Brock have a file on me, my dad, and my mom? Carter and Steven, I understood, but me? How did that make sense? He had been investigating me prior to the wedding. I stared at myself in the most mundane situations. At school. Shopping with Ainsley or eating lunch. Stupid shit. How was any of this relevant to taking Carter down? That was the Elite’s goal, wasn’t it?
The kitchen door creaked open. “Why didn’t you wake me?” His voice was sleepy and, God help me, sexy.