“I found it that night,” he said after a moment. “After they took you away in the ambulance. Everything was hectic. Colton had you on your side, trying to keep the blood . . . keep you breathing until the EMTs got there, and then they did, and you were gone. I saw your purse on the ground, and I was thinking . . . I was thinking how you would have hated to know your purse was there, getting dirty and shit.”
Oh God.
My fingers curled against my lips as Brock lowered his hand, and I saw the sterling-silver medallion once more.
“I was gathering up your stuff and I found it on the ground,” he said. “I knew it was mine. You were always finding these things for me. I meant to tell you I had it, but . . .” He trailed off.
But everything had happened.
Things had blown up and we blew apart.
But he’d found the Saint Sebastian necklace I’d found for him and had planned to give him that night we were going to dinner.
His eyes met mine. “I’ve worn it ever since.”
He’d found it and he’d had it with him.
“For the longest time, it was the only way I could feel close to you.”
Chapter 29
Emotion cut off the strangled sound building in my throat. I dropped my hands and then I was moving without really thinking, crossing the small distance between us. I picked up the necklace, curling my fingers around it. I’d forgotten about the necklace. How, I had no idea, but I had, and he hadn’t.
Brock made this sound that came from the back of his throat. “Why are you crying?”
“Am I?” I whispered, clearing my throat.
“Yeah.” He cupped my cheeks, swiping away the tears with his thumbs. “How do you not know you’re crying?”
“I don’t know.” I lowered my head, all but face-planting in his warm chest.
Brock let out a soft chuckle as he folded his arms around me. “If I knew the necklace was going to make you cry, I wouldn’t have worn it.”
“It’s not that.” I still held the necklace in my palm, probably strangling him with the chain, but I couldn’t let go. “I forgot about the necklace and you didn’t.”
“I didn’t.” He pulled my head back, tilting it to look up at him. My blurry gaze met his. “I never forgot you. I never forgot anything you used to do.”
He was going to make me cry really hard now.
Reaching down, he gently pried my fingers off the medallion. Then he lifted my hand to his mouth. He pressed a kiss to my palm. “I kept all the little charms. There in the box on my dresser. You can check it out—”
I pulled my hand away and stretched up, looping an arm around his neck so I didn’t fall over as I kissed him.
I was pretty clumsy at it, the whole initiating a kiss thing, but Brock didn’t seem to mind or even notice. The arm at my waist tightened, and the entire length of my body was pressed against his.
The kiss between us had started off gentle, a slow exploration of his lips and mine. We could kiss for a hundred years, but I would never grow tired of it. Never. And when the kiss deepened, my entire body roared awake and tingled. His tongue flicked over mine, and I felt him across my stomach, growing harder and thicker.
Deep in my core, an intense throbbing picked up as I drew back and looked him in the eyes. I could feel my cheeks heating, because I thought about his hand between my thighs and that wonderful, wonderful tongue of his.
The ache intensified.
His eyes darkened as he stared down at me. His throat worked on a swallow. He let go of my waist and slipped a hand down my side to the hem of the shirt I wore. “May I?”
Heart leaping into my throat, I nodded.
That half-grin was back, curling up at the corners of his lips as he gripped the ends of my shirt and tugged it up over my head. I didn’t know what he did with the shirt, because I was too conscious of the fact I was standing in front of him in a plain black bra and jeans.
His gaze moved over me, lingering along the swell of my breasts. Heat traveled down my throat and my nipples hardened, straining against the cups of my bra. “I want to see you. All of you.”
I let out a shaky breath. “I’m . . . I’m yours.”
“Fuck,” he growled, and then his mouth swooped down, claiming mine in a head-spinning kiss that left me breathless and wanting. I was barely aware of his quick fingers behind my back, making short work of the tiny clasps. The bra snapped loose, and as he tilted his head, taking the kiss to a whole new level, he slid the straps down my arms and then the bra fell to the floor. He was still kissing me as his fingers moved to the front of my jeans and unhooked the button. He tugged down the zipper and then his hands were on my hips urging down the jeans. They slipped a few inches before getting hung up on my thighs.
Brock lifted his head and stepped back only far enough for him to look down. His gaze roamed over my breasts in such an intense way it was almost like a physical caress. He knelt, dragging my jeans down with him.
My shaking hands landed on his shoulders. I steadied myself as I lifted a leg and then the other so he could remove the jeans. His calloused palms slid back up the outside of my legs. His fingers reached the band of my panties. I didn’t even want to look down to see what I was wearing. I was pretty sure they were striped boy shorts. I could’ve worn something sexier.
He pressed a kiss just below the band of my panties as he slid a hand between my thighs. Then he tipped his head back and those lashes of his lifted. “This,” he said, cupping me. I gasped, and I started to flush, because I knew he could feel how turned on I was. I was drenched. “This is also beautiful.”