I hadn’t thought this far ahead and assumed I’d have a few minutes in the car to come up with a solid explanation for leaving his bed.
I’d left him.
The protection of his house.
None of that sat right with Brock.
Staring into his face, I could see the damage I’d done, which had not been my intention. His jaw clenched. “I told you to stay put.”
Blinking, my eyes swept over the sweatpants that sat low on his hips and the Academy T-shirt stretched over his chest. Even spitting mad and growling at me, I found him utterly attractive.
Someone should send help.
I needed to be saved from myself and my stupid hormones that couldn’t seem to behave themselves around this particular guy. I couldn’t think straight, and I had a mountain of crap churning inside me.
Stepping around the door, I lifted on my toes and kissed him. As expected, he made me forget.
No more Carter.
No more Angie.
No more anger or sadness.
No more pain.
Only Brock and the red-hot lust his lips enticed.
His lips stayed unmoving for a heartbeat and I thought he would pull away. Then his fingers were at my hips, shoving me up against the car as his tongue pressed against my lips. I parted them for him, my hands moving to frame his face. If I could have managed it, I would have wrapped myself around him like a rubber band.
Hot and hungry, I attacked his lips, searching and falling into that swift punch of lust only he brought on. My fingers trailed down the front of his shirt, fisting into the material as I tried to pull him closer still, and when that wasn’t enough, I slipped my fingers underneath the shirt, skimming over his bare skin. The muscles in his lower abs contracted.
“Jesus, Firefly,” he hissed against my lips before diving right back in. Our tongues tangled as my fingers dipped into the waistband of his sweatpants, shoving them lower on his hips.
“You’re not wearing any boxers,” I murmured.
Wickedness glimmered in his eyes. “I didn’t bother putting any on this morning.”
But that would mean he’d gone to bed naked. Dear God, tell me it wasn’t so. I had managed to sleep the entire night next to Brock naked. That had to be a sin of some kind.
“There is no point in stressing about it now,” he said, reading my mind too easily.
“Lots of people sleep naked. I’m not stressing,” I countered, my breath coming out in quick bursts of breathiness.
“Do you?” he whispered along my neck, pressing his lips right at the spot that I loved.
My neck arched into him, silently begging for him to never stop.
A loud horn blared, followed by a voice yelling, “Get a room!” We broke apart in time to see a car zoom around us, clearly annoyed.
Unable to contain myself, I laughed, dropping my forehead to his chest. “That did not just happen.”
Brock tugged at the end of my braid. “Maybe I should get pissed more often. I had no idea being yelled at had such an effect on you. What other weird vices turn you on?”
“Shut up.” I flattened my palm on his chest and pushed, creating a small amount of space that allowed me to draw in a breath. Not that it was all that helpful when the air was tinted with his scent. “That was a momentary lapse in good judgment. It won’t happen again.”
His grin turned wolfish. “Uh-huh.”
He didn’t buy it.