There was a pause. “Not yet, but once those stitches come out I will,” he replied roughly.
I ignored my ovaries, which had jumped to attention the moment Brock had spoken in that sexy voice of his. I tried to stay on track, and I wandered to the window to peer at Asher.
“Because of whatever we are now and the fact you are a supremely good kisser and have a nice body and face and stuff, I’m ruined for other men,” I complained. “I mean, I’ve been so pissed off you’ve instituted the ‘make sure Amy and or Gwen doesn’t get kidnapped again squad’ I haven’t even realized that the previously mentioned squad is made up of some seriously hot man flesh.”
I peered at Asher, who was sitting on his bike, his muscled but tattooless arms on display. His dark shades hid his eyes but totally added to the dangerous and mysterious vibe he was giving off. I narrowed my eyebrows when his shades locked on Lily, who had been out getting us coffee. They followed her as she walked into the store. Interesting.
“Amy?”
Whoops, forgot I was on the phone.
“What?” I snapped, trying to deduce whether Lily had noticed Asher checking her out.
“I was just asking what in the fuck you were talking about. Man flesh?” he bit out, sounding pissed.
“Oh yeah, so I’m too busy thinking about how many more days until my stitches come out and what will follow that procedure that I don’t even check out the guys anymore. Gwen had to point it out. I’m surprised she doesn’t bump into things she’s so blinded by her rose-tinted glasses. For her to comment on it the situation must be serious.”
I heard a deep chuckle at the other end of the phone.
“This isn’t funny,” I snapped.
“I disagree, Sparky. The fact my woman is mad at me because she is too busy thinking about getting into bed with me to check out my brothers is hil-fucking-larious,” he replied.
“Whatever,” I huffed. “I was going to tell you some news but you’re being an ass so I’m not going to now,” I informed him, feeling childish.
“Okay, babe,” Brock replied, sounding disinterested.
“So you don’t even want to know?” I asked snippily.
“I do want to know. I feel like you’ll get over this fuckin ridiculous snit and tell me at some point.” He still sounded amused.
“It’s not ridiculous. I don’t appreciate you calling me that.”
“I didn’t call you ridiculous. I called your reason for being mad at me ridiculous.”
I sighed. “We can fight about anything, can’t we?”
“One of the many things I love about you, Sparky—you keep me on my toes.” Brock teased lightly.
I was silent for a moment, straightening a rack beside me. I still hadn’t said the ‘I love you’ to Brock. He didn’t seem to mind, but I could tell it might turn into a problem.
“I’m going to tell you anyway because I’ve got to get back to work.” I looked around the store. It was empty; technically I didn’t need to get back to work, but Lily had brought coffee and I wanted to grill her about Asher. “I’m going to the doctor this afternoon to get my stitches taken out,” I said quietly, a sexual undertone to my voice.
It was our unspoken agreement once I got my stitches out we would finally do the nasty. It’s not like we hadn’t done it. But I felt like a born again virgin it had been so long. I seriously wondered if my hymen had grown back.
No matter how much I had tried to seduce him this week he had stayed strong. Apart from some seriously hot kisses and the odd boob or ass grope Brock kept his hands to himself. He didn’t even let me take care of him. It pissed me right off.
I was also secretly impressed at his willpower.
There was a silence. “Were you going to tell me before or after?” he asked weirdly.
“I’m telling you now,” I said, confused.
“No, you’re only telling me because you called spouting your crazy shit about Asher, who is not trailing you ever again by the way. If you hadn’t come to your conclusion, would you have told me before or after you went?” His voice definitely seemed angry, I couldn’t see why. He was finally going to get laid. I thought he’d be more excited.
“Does it matter?” I felt mildly irritated so I reached for the coffee Lily had gotten me, hoping caffeine would quell the anger.
“Yes, it fuckin’ does matter if you were going to go to the doctors and not even tell me, let alone ask me to come with you,” he growled into the phone.
“I’m not five years old, Brock, I don’t need anyone to hold my hand at the doctor’s office. I’m very capable of taking myself. They don’t even give me lollipops anymore, which obviously is a mark of my maturity.” I sipped my coffee.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Brock muttered. I could tell he was talking to himself so I decided not to answer. “We’ll talk when I get to your place tonight—I’ve got shit to do.” he said finally.
“I’m not sure I want you coming to my place tonight anymore. You’ve irritated me,” I decided.
“Babe,” was his response.
“What is it with you and the word ‘babe’? You somehow think you can use it for a greeting and as a substitute for any sentence you feel like. It’s one word. It doesn’t even have a meaning. It’s a term of endearment, so speak like a normal human,” I ordered.
I heard him sigh into the phone. “You want me at your place tonight. You want me to push you up against the wall and fuck you against it as soon as I get home. You then want me to walk you upstairs, eat you out then fuck you from behind. I know you want that, and I sure as shit want that. So I’ll be at your house tonight.” His voice was hoarse and full of authority.
“That’s better than babe,” I said airily into the phone.