I instantly feel calm, the tension in my shoulders deflating like a balloon.
“So?” Brock grabs my hand, swallowing it in his own. “How’d it go?”
“How do you think it went?” We step out into the crisp air that only October on the East Coast can bring. The smell of fall entices my nose, a network of bright yellow, deep red, and fiery orange leaves fascinating my vision as I climb into Brock’s Hummer. “How did your wait go?”
Brock lets free a heavy sigh. “Amber.”
“Brock.” A smart-ass smirk lifts the corner of my mouth. A tug on the door, a shake of his head, and a dimpled smile later and he’s seated next to me. That smile does me in, my heart thump-thump-thumping the way it did the first time I saw him. A second after that, my lips are pressed against his cheek, my hands buried in his wavy, dirty-blond hair as he backs out of the parking lot.
“Get your seat belt on.” The smooth, deep timbre in his voice causes my thighs to tighten. Despite my best flirty pout, he narrows his eyes as he attempts to navigate the cobblestoned streets of downtown Annapolis. Despite his best efforts, I can tell I’ve turned him on.
“You’re hard as a rock,” I tease, settling back into my seat. “Admit it. I get you every time.”
He tosses me a shit-eating grin. “The only thing I’ll admit is that I’m gonna enjoy sexually torturing you once I get you back to my place if you don’t get your belt on.”
“Demanding,” I purr, pulling the stupid belt over my waist. “And kinky. I like.”
“Safe,” he counters, “and kinky. You can’t deny I satisfy your wild side. It’s a given.”
A snort escapes my throat. “Wow. And as overconfident as ever.”
His mouth lifts into a cocky smile, but it vanishes. “You didn’t talk to the therapist, did you?”
I bite my lip, knowing where he’s headed. “I talked, just not about what he wanted me to.” I look down at my pink hoodie, toying with the hem. “I’m not ready to yet.”
“You need to talk to him, Amber.”
“Please don’t start with me.” I lean my head against the window. “You’re talking in that ‘fatherly’ tone, and it makes me feel like you’re putting me under a microscope.”
He rests his hand on the back of my neck, caressing my hair. “I’m not trying to start with you, Ber. I love that you write in a journal. I find it beyond sexy, and have many times told you that you can write your thoughts out across my naked body if it helps you, but you need to open up to him. It’ll only help you that much more. I wanna see you happy.”
I bring my eyes back to his, a coy smile on my face. “I may just take you up on that offer one day, but seriously, I’m happy, Brock.”
“You’re surface happy.” He glances at me, his voice soft. “Don’t think I can’t see through you. I love you, and I want every bit of you happy. Not just the outside.”
My heart twists, stutters, then stops.
Twists.
Stutters.
Stops.
Palms sweaty, I register our vehicle coming to a standstill at a red light. I stare at Brock, and he searches my face, his eyes glazed over in a look I’ve never seen. I’ve seen them high, seen them filled with longing. I’ve even seen anger ignite them, but I’ve never witnessed them in their current state. They’re different, deep, a pool of emotions collecting beneath their surface.
“What did you just say?” My voice comes out weak, thin.
“I love you, Ber,” he whispers, his eyes still on mine.
He leans over the center console and cups my cheeks, his touch immediately sending fire crawling through my body. I suck in a deep breath, watching his gaze flitter across my face. It amazes me how something so simple can create a buzzing overload of sensation that wraps me tight, holding me prisoner in its warmth.
“I don’t know how you did it, but you did,” he says into my ear, his voice soft, sincere. “I know telling you this in the middle of rush hour traffic isn’t cool or romantic, but I love you. I love you something fierce, and it scares the fuck out of me, but I couldn’t keep it in any longer. I don’t expect you to say it back, or even feel the same way about me, but I wasn’t about to let another day go by without letting you know that I love you, Amber Moretti.”
He presses his lips to mine, causing my stomach to sink and desire to pool between my legs. His words fade into the air, drop back down, and scatter along my skin, sinking into my once-empty heart. The kiss is as intense and mind-blowing as ever, his need for me evident in each slow, deliciously persistent lick. A car horn fires off, and Brock gives the aggravated driver the finger, but he doesn’t stop kissing me. No. Instead he kisses me harder, deeper, pouring everything he’s got into this one kiss.
Into this moment.
My body responds, wanting nothing more than to climb into his lap and take him right here. Mind in overdrive and confusion knotting my gut, I slowly pull back. Breathing as heavily as Brock, the absence of his lips leaves my core aching with need. His stare ushers a trail of chills over my flesh as I try to wrap my head around his declaration.
Do I tell him that I think I’m falling in love with him but am trying my hardest not to? That the mere thought of it makes me ill, wanting to possibly break things off with him, my fear of everything that love represents deadening my cells? Do I explain that at nineteen I’m not even sure if what I’m experiencing is love? Close to paralyzed, I go with what I think I need to say before revealing any of this.