Still half-asleep, I started to grin, to tease him that it could be anyone, but as the seconds passed and the more awake I became, the events of the day returned.
I scooted away, reaching for the lamp on the nightstand. Soft light flooded the bedroom. What was he doing here? He wasn’t supposed to come back until Saturday afternoon.
“Where are you going?” He circled an arm around my waist, tugging me back and under him.
Before I could respond, his mouth closed over mine. With the touch of his lips, my body responded without thought. My lips parted, and the kiss deepened. His lower body settled onto mine, and I could feel him through his jeans, pressing against me. He rocked his hips into me, and my breath caught on a burst of exquisite sensations. Within seconds I was already throbbing. He could either turn me on that quickly, or I was always that ready for him.
“I missed that sound,” he said against my lips. “Drove like a maniac to get here now instead of in the morning just to hear it.”
I was seconds from being carried away by the pulse-pounding desire. If I didn’t stop this now, I wouldn’t be able to, and even though I wanted nothing more than to feel him, all of him, we needed to talk.
Calling on every ounce of willpower I could find, I placed my hands on his chest. “Brock—”
“Fuck.” His hips rolled as his hand slid up over the loose shirt I wore, skimming the swell of my breasts as his forehead grazed mine. “That’s another thing I missed here. My name on your lips.”
My body flushed hot. Oh man, he really knew how to distract me, but I pushed lightly on his chest. “We need to talk.”
“We can do that.” His lips brushed over my right jaw and then his teeth caught the fleshy part of my lobe. “We can also do other things.”
“No, we can’t.”
He chuckled. “It’s called multitasking, Jilly.”
“I can’t multitask like this,” I admitted. Already, my heart rate was all over the place.
His hand roamed over the crest of my breast, his fingers finding the hardened peak. “That’s not my problem.”
I wanted to laugh, but if I did, his persistence would sway me. My fingers curled into the sweater he wore. “Kristen came by the office today.” Those words were like dousing Brock in ice water. His hand stilled, as did his hips. He lifted his head and stared down at me with dark eyes.
“Come again?”
“Kristen stopped by the Academy to talk to me.”
“About what?”
His question sounded so genuine that I had to think he had no idea the kind of intimate details she’d shared with me. But maybe, just maybe, some part of what she’d said wasn’t true.
I met his gaze. “About a lot of things.”
He lowered his brows and then he shifted off of me so he was on his side, using his elbow to prop him up. His hand remained on my stomach. “Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like what I’m about to hear?”
The tendrils of desires scattered. “Good question.”
“Well, I can’t imagine her visit was about homemade Christmas cards.” He grinned—he actually grinned.
“You don’t seem too bothered by her showing up to talk to me.”
“Why would I be?” he asked, slipping his hand down to the edge of my shirt. “Honestly, I’m not happy to hear she was here. She has no business coming around you.”
I studied his features, trying to decipher how he really felt about it. “You . . . you never really talk about her.”
“What is there to say? We were together. Then we weren’t.”
“You two were together for years,” I pointed out, dumbfounded by his statement. “You were engaged. It’s not like you dated for a couple of months and then went your separate ways.”
He was quiet for a moment. “What did she want to talk to you about?”
“A lot of things.” I sat up. His hand slipped, but he kept his arm around my waist until I scooted back against the headboard. My gaze flicked to the doorway and I saw the slight frame of Rhage lurking in the hallway, trying to decide if it was safe to come in or not.
Brock waited. “Details?”
My gaze slid back to him. “Why haven’t you told me that Kristen was pregnant?”
“She talked to you about that?” Surprise colored his tone. “What in the fuck?”
“So, it’s true?”
“Shit.” Brock thrust his hand over his head, scrubbing his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, it’s true. She got pregnant a few years ago. She had a miscarriage. I never told you, because it’s not something I really like to think about.” There was a brief pause. “I also didn’t tell you because I was sure that was something you really didn’t want to know about.”
My stomach twisted with a weird mixture of feelings. Pushing my hair back from my face, I had no idea what to think about that. I was relieved that he was being honest, dismayed that he hadn’t told me, and I even understood why, in a way. The stupid, mindless jealousy that simmered low in my gut told me why he hadn’t mentioned it.
I was . . . I was jealous because he’d gotten someone else pregnant, and trust me, I recognized the ridiculousness of that. I realized how incredibly horrid that was. How wrong.
I drew in a deep breath. “That had to have hurt you—for her to lose the pregnancy.”
Brock flopped onto his back, rubbing his hands down his face. “It wasn’t good for either of us, Jillian.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.