They made their way up the steps to the front door. It was a frosty December night with plenty of stars and a biting wind. They’d most likely wake up to frost on the ground and their windshield frozen. Krista hugged both her and Brock’s coats tightly around her body, thankful for the added layer of leather, which cut the wind nicely. Her boot hit the last step when suddenly she felt herself slipping.

There was a black ice patch on the top step, and her foot came out from under her. Immediately, all thoughts flew to the baby, and tossing off the coats, she windmilled her arms and did an awkward cha-cha dance to try to regain her footing. She couldn’t fall, she just couldn’t.

But then big, strong arms wrapped around her waist, and she found herself plastered against hard, warm brick. Brock’s brick chest.

“Easy … ” he hummed, his breath hot on her neck. “You wouldn’t be nearly as beautiful with black and blue bruises everywhere.”

She blinked up at him, having to flutter her lashes like a flirty little tween. And as if they were the stars of some Christmas romantic comedy made-for-television movie, flurries began to flutter down around them. Like cherry blossoms in May, gathering like clumps of dandruff in their hair and on their clothes. His eyes found hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Then, just to finish the scene before it faded to black, he lowered his head and took her mouth.

“Holy Jesus, it’s freezing in here!” Krista shivered as she moved out of the way so that Brock could enter the foyer behind her. She was about to hang their coats up but suddenly thought better of it and instead put them back, toed off her boots and stuffed her feet into her slippers.

Without bothering to take his shoes or coat off, let alone muttering a word, Brock took the steps two at a time and headed to the control panel for the furnace down the hall.

“Shit!” he exclaimed. “Furnace is broken.”

“Seriously?” Krista hugged her body and came up behind him. “Can you fix it? Or do I have to sleep in my clothes and coat?”

He shook his head. “I’ll have a look at it in the morning. Might just need more oil. But for now, I think we might have to light a fire in the fireplace and maybe sleep out in the living room.”

She nodded. “Okay. I’ll go get some blankets.”

He grunted, pushing past her again and heading downstairs or outside or somewhere, probably to go and find wood.

By the time she’d gathered all the bedding, Brock had returned and was crouched down next to the open hearth in the living room, blowing on flickering embers. Within seconds, larger flames began to dance, and soon it was beautiful orange and red wings of warmth pirouetting along the logs.

Krista let out a contented sigh. The cold that had seemed to embed itself in her very marrow once the adrenaline had worn off finally showed signs of receding.

“Go shower,” he said with a grunt, not bothering to look at her. “Warm up, and the fire will be ready when you’re out.”

She pouted at his back but did as she was told, hoping that he’d join her and they could continue on with the romance from out in the driveway. But alas, no. She was forced to shower alone and scrub her own back.

Emerging a short while later in plaid flannel pants, a big oversize gray hoodie, her fuzzy green and pink cat socks and a French braid down her back, she found Brock in the kitchen with the sound of a kettle boiling. The fire was roaring, and the bedding had all been made.

Krista wandered over to the fire and sat down on the floor, bringing the covers up over her legs. She watched the flames dance, twirl and crackle, burning the once red-hued logs to a dark black.

“Tea?” he asked, making her jump out of her skin.

The man was like a ninja when he wanted to be, all stealth and silence. And then at other times, his big gladiator body stomped around the house and creaked on the stairs as he if were a giant toddler, adding to the paradox that was Brock Hart. A tough nut to crack, a hard man to get to know. Her hard Hart.

But she was determined to get to know him. Each and every time they were together, whether it be sitting on the couch watching a renovation show and eating a stir-fry or rolling around in his bed like sweaty teenagers, she thought she saw a new side of him. But the man was proving to be one of those dodecahedron things, multi-sided and endlessly complicated.

“Tea?” he grunted again, nudging her back with his shin this time.

“Oh, um, sure. Thanks,” she said, shaking her head, letting the confusing thoughts rattle around and then slowly disappear.

He crouched down and handed her a steaming cup of what smelled like Sleepytime tea.

“You care to join me?” she asked, patting the empty space in the bedding beside her. “Plenty of room for two.”

A slow and intriguing smile curved his lips, and in a moment, Brock’s shirt and sweater were off and his pants soon followed, leaving him in nothing but those sexy black boxer briefs. He wasn’t hard, but the line of his cock was hard to miss. Her man was hung.

Blowing the steam off her tea, Krista ran her tongue along the seam of her lips, eyeing Brock like he was a choice cut of meat she just couldn’t wait to sink her teeth into.

“Tongue back in your mouth.” His voice was low and gritty. A hunger echoed in those words, one of demand, one that met her own. He slipped in beside her.

Rather than punch him in the shoulder and tell him to shut up for his smart-ass response, she couldn’t. She was on fire. Pushing the covers off her and quickly standing up, Krista began to undress. The fire, the tea, the flannel and hoodie, all combined with the insane heat radiating off the man beside her, and suddenly her whole body burned.

“You don’t waste any time, do you?” he asked, a hint of humor to his tone.

She threw her hoodie onto the couch. “Shut up. I’m boiling.” Next came the pants, then the socks, until she was in nothing but her underwear and a black tank top.

She stepped over his body before sinking back down into the covers. The whole time, their eyes remained locked. He watched her. She watched him. It was hard to tell who was the prey and who was the hunter at this point. Need and hunger seemed to percolate around both of them as pheromones bounced off the walls and the sexual tension grew thick and heady.

A low growl rumbled from the back of his throat, dark and dripping with promise. His green eyes glowed fierce and bright in the firelight, but as each moment passed, the pupils grew bigger and darker.

But she needed to find out more about Brock. That kiss outside had made those feelings she’d been having for him rachet up several notches, and her whole body had sparked alive in his arms. He was more than just a roommate. He was more than just the father of her child. He was more than just a lover. He was the man she was falling for, and she needed to learn more about him. She needed to learn everything.

The sex could wait.

Or could the talking wait?

Her nipples pebbled beneath her tank top, and her entire core clenched.

Her body certainly didn’t want to wait.

But if they had sex now, he might just roll over and go to sleep after. Then when would they talk? She had him here by the fire. They’d just shared a romantic moment outside. Maybe he would be open to talking, open to sharing.

“Awful lot of thinking going on in that sexy brain of yours,” he said, lifting one dark eyebrow.

Krista’s lips twisted into a half smile as she grabbed her mug of tea and brought it beneath her nose.

“Care to tell me what you’re thinking about? I’m assuming it’s dirty.”

She took a sip and let the tea sit on her tongue for a moment before answering. “Well, some thoughts were, yes. But I’m also curious about you. We’ve been living together for a while now, we have sex all the time, and we’re having a baby together. Don’t you think it’s high time we got to know each other better?”

Something, she couldn’t quite put her finger on what exactly, changed in him. He hardened. Wariness clouded his eyes, and he shifted uncomfortably in the bedding.

“You think so, do you?” he finally said.

She nodded. “I do. You can ask me questions too. It’s not a one-way street.”

All he did was grunt.

Nibbling on her bottom lip for a moment, she averted her gaze, pulling at a stray thread on one of the sheets. “How did your dad die?”

She lifted her head to gauge his reaction, but he wasn’t looking at her either. His eyes were fixed on the flames, and in turn they reflected back in that gorgeous green. Like emerald fire.

“In a car accident.”

“I’m sorry.”

Brock sank down into the covers and put his head on the pillow, folding his arms up behind his neck and letting his eyes focus on the ceiling above. “I was in the car with him.”

Krista gasped, her efforts in slinking down beside him halting in her surprise. “Oh my God.”

Brock nodded solemnly. “He’d just picked me up from football practice, and we were on our way home. ”

Krista’s heart physically ached at the idea of a young boy having to endure the pain that Brock did. No child, no person should ever have to witness such a thing.

“There was a guy speeding down a busy road. Even though my dad was technically off duty, he was still in a patrol car and heard the call. Figured he’d just park the car at the entrance to a shopping center and that the sight of his vehicle would make the driver slow down. Most of the time it does.”

Krista nodded in understanding. It was true. Often, she and Myles would just go park their car in a school or park zone and have lunch or do paperwork, not even bothering to get out, because the presence of the law often seemed to be enough to enforce the rules.

He swallowed. “Only the guy didn’t slow down. He didn’t stop, and the nose of my dad’s cruiser was sticking out just a bit too far.”

Krista’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh no.”

His throat undulated. “I was in the back. Otherwise I may not have made it. The speed of the other vehicle sent the patrol car into a pole, and both the driver and passenger sides in the front were crushed. My dad died instantly.”

She shifted onto her side, propping her body up on her elbow and letting her hand fall to his rock-hard chest. “I’m so sorry.”

He swallowed again.

“It wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?”

He let out a slow breath though his nose. “I know that. Doesn’t make it any easier.”

Her fingers mindlessly played with the light scattering of hair between his pecs, but his hand came out from behind his head and stilled their efforts, bringing her fingers to his lips.

“I don’t like that you’re a cop. Even light duty. Because it’s temporary. And that fucker Slade works there. I don’t like that your job is dangerous, no matter how admirable a job it may be.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. She didn’t want to fight. But before she could say anything, he rolled her onto her back, covering her with his massive and powerful warrior body.

“But I also don’t want to fight right now or talk about my family anymore. It’s much more enjoyable being inside you.”

Her legs spread of their own volition, and he nestled between them, his erection long, hard and eager, rubbing her clit just right.

Damn it. This was not what she wanted.

Well, yes, it was. But she also wanted to talk. They needed to talk.

“What’s the dirtiest thing you’ve done, Constable Matthews?” He bent his head low and fished a dark, tight nipple out of her tank top with his teeth. Krista shut her eyes and fought back the groan that built in her throat.

“Um … ”

He ground his hips against hers. Even through her underwear, he felt incredible. “Hmm, that dirty, huh?”

Her cheeks grew warm. “I’ve been around the block. What about you?”

He lifted his head, a rare smile tugged at his mouth. “You didn’t answer my question.” He bit her bottom lip.

Krista swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Well, um, some spanking and bondage. Ass play. My ex was a kinky fucker.”

The sound that rumbled at the back of his throat made her whole body stiffen.

Was he jealous?

“No ex talk,” was all he said.

She rolled her eyes but quickly forgot why when his teeth found her neck and his big, warm hand cupped her breasts. Thumb and finger rolled her nipple until a dull, decadent throb pulsed in her chest.

“What kind of ass play?” he asked, his voice low and gruff next to her ear as he nibbled on that sweet spot right where her lobe met her neck.

“Ummm.”

He lifted his head again. “Really?”

She nodded. “Yes, I have. Have you?”

He shook his head. “No, I haven’t.”

Liar! “Bullshit.”

A sexy eyebrow slowly drifted up his forehead. “Why would I lie?”

“Because … you had to have at least tried it once in your life. You’re … ”

Levering himself onto one arm, he put his other hand to work lifting up her tank top and exposing her breasts. “I’m what?”

“Good in bed. Insanely sexy … a fucking god. Pick one. You’ve probably screwed your way through a cheerleading squad.”

“So?” His mouth found a nipple, and he bit down. She arched into him and shut her eyes.

“So at some point in your thirty-six years, you’ve had to have found your way up a woman’s ass.”

He snorted against her chest. “Well, that was rather graphic.”

“Sorry, but when you’re uh … doing … what you’re doing makes my brain start to fart.”

“Again, rather graphic.”

Krista rolled her eyes. Her hand found him inside his boxers, and she began to stroke him. “So then why’d you ask me if I ever had?”

His head traveled down her body, warm kisses landing on her ribs and then the slight swell of her stomach. Krista’s heart soared from how much love he already had for his child.

“Because I’m curious. Did you like it?” His fingers hooked into the waistband of her underwear, and he tugged them off.

“Maybe … ”

“You want to do it again?”

“Why are you asking me this?”

His face was poised at the apex of her thighs. A surreptitious flick of his tongue had her melting into the floor. He lifted his head. “Because I thought if you had and were interested in doing it again, it might be a way for you to assume control. Teach me, boss me around. Tell me what to do, how to fuck your ass until you’re a screaming mess.”

Well, holy shit!

She gaped at him. “Really?”

His tongue flicked out again, and the caterpillars kissed as he closed his eyes. “Mhmm.”

“I … I’d love to.”

“Good,” he murmured. “I don’t know much about it, besides what I’ve seen from porn, but what I do know is that I’m supposed to get you good and turned on.”

Krista nodded. “Yeah … ”

“And then what?” A finger slipped into her folds and began stroking her inner walls. She clenched around him. “Let me know when you want another finger.” He dipped his head back down and went to work with his tongue and mouth. Delightful circles and velvety licks had her thrusting into his face, panting and moaning and all but begging for another finger.

Their eyes locked for a brief second, and she nodded. She was ready, so very, very ready.

“Do we need lube?” he asked.

“I-if you’ve got it,” she said through shallow breaths.

He grunted at the same time as the sound of a cap flicking open.

Krista chuckled. “You just so happened to have some?”

His big, wily smile made her heart soar. “A man’s allowed to hope. I was a Boy Scout. Always be prepared.”

She chuckled and then gasped as cool liquid silk dripped down between her cheeks.

“Do you want to be on top?” he asked. “In control and with all the power?”

Krista’s grinned matched his. He really was trying to relinquish control. “Yes. That way you can play with my tits and stroke my clit.”

The fire danced lambent in his eyes as he sat up. “You’re the boss.”

She snorted. “Damn right I am.”

A low and carnal chuckle shook his body as they traded places and he reclined down into the nest of blankets. “At least for the moment.”

She straddled him and, without waiting, sank down, taking him into her pussy in one hard and fast push. They both let out involuntary moans, and his hands came up to knead her breasts and tweak her hard, needy nipples.

She rode him slowly, long, languid, leisurely glides of his body disappearing into hers, stroking searing hot across her slick and sensitive channel. Her head tilted up and her eyes shut as she enjoyed feeling the big, gorgeous man inside her. Skin to skin, flesh in flesh. He cupped her breasts and relieved some of the strain of their weight. They’d grown again in the last few weeks, and when she went braless, they were a tad painful. He tugged on the nipples and twisted until a sharp cry broke past her lips.

Lost in the moment, in the feel of Brock, Krista’s eyes flashed open when his fingers trailed down her body and wrapped around her hips, pushing her cheeks apart in search of her tight hole. He was watching her. Those green eyes glowed near gold in the flickering flames. His breath was ragged. His nostrils flared with each lift of his powerful hips, and with each lift, his pelvic bone grazed her clit. She was seconds from orgasm.

“Now?” he asked, the strain she felt in her own body equally evident in his tone.

She nodded, rising up on her knees and pulling him from her. He grabbed his shaft and held it firm. With her free hand, she grabbed the bottle of lube next to her leg and quickly squirted some on to his length, moving it around the soft, shiny crown with the tip of her finger.

A groan escaped him, and suddenly she ached to take him in her mouth. But they were on a different mission tonight. That desire would have to wait until tomorrow. Tossing the lube to the side, she lifted up again, making sure he was in position.

Gently, ever so slowly, Krista lowered her body. Her breathing relaxed as she pushed out again with her muscles. He entered her, and then there was that initial slight pinch of pain. It’d been a while since she’d indulged in such deplorable decadence, so the snap of pain was expected. She shut her eyes and pushed past the discomfort.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice thick with the effort of having to hold off his orgasm.

Despite the moment, a chuckle bubbled up in Krista’s chest. Of the two of them, he was in far more discomfort than she was, she was sure of it. “I should be asking you that. You about ready to explode?”

He grunted. “Yes.”

“Just a second.” She sank down a little deeper, taking him all the way. And then she began to move, starting off slow at first, just bobbing up and down, her body tight around his, and then picking up the pace when her own climax began to brew and threatened to unleash.

“P-pinch my clit,” she panted, angling over his body so that they were face to face.

He did as he was told, his other hand coming up to tweak and twist her nipples, but the combination of it all was just too much. His hands on her body, his cock in her ass, filling her, splitting her, taking her, and when she dared to look up and catch his eyes, the way he was looking at her, with so much … possession, so much awe, she was a goner. Finding his shoulder, she bit down hard and gave over to the demand of her body. Unleashing the pleasure and letting it take over.

His shoulder muffled her pleas as she convulsed around him, every cell in her body on fire as the climax ripped through her in unyielding waves. White lights flashed behind her closed eyes, and the sounds of Brock’s release filled her ears. She milked his cock and watched him as he gradually came down from his release, shuddering as the last of it drained him of all his energy.

When he finally opened his eyes, his beauty momentarily winded her. Especially since as soon as he saw her, he smiled. It was a boyish smile. A smile of thanks and gratitude. But also with the subtle lip tilt of a cocky bugger who’d just accomplished the unthinkable.

Tears burned behind Krista’s eyes when the realization hit her like an anvil to the chest. Holy crap, she loved this man. She barely knew a thing about him, but what she did know, she loved.

They did the awkward post-coital dance and shuffle, and she tiptoed off to the bathroom, leaving him naked and possibly passed out in front of the fire.

When she returned, he had thoughtfully grabbed them each a glass of water and placed Krista’s on the hearth. She took a greedy sip, not caring at all that a fair percentage of it dripped down her bare chest. Brock ducked off to the washroom and was back moments later. Then they went to the task of getting dressed and pulling up the covers. The fire had died down to a soft burnt orange glow, and the clock in the dining room said it was well past midnight.

As her head hit the pillow, she was suddenly overcome with exhaustion. This entire night had been a whirlwind.

“So … can I ask how in your thirty-six sexy years you’ve never managed to have anal sex?” she finally asked after they’d lain there for a few minutes, quietly listening to the fire sizzle and pop and cast shadows on the far wall.

“Opportunity just never came up. I haven’t been with that many women, you know.”

Holy hell, were they going to have the numbers conversation? “How many have you been with?”

“Fourteen.”

“Oh, that’s not very many. You’re right. Several long-term relationships then?” Was he not going to ask her how many people she’d been with?

“No. Maybe one or two, but as you may have noticed, I’m not exactly … ”

She snorted. “Friendly?”

His body shook with quiet laughter. “I was going to say a people person, but friendly fits. A few one-night stands, a few relationships, a few fuck buddies.”

“Oh.” They were quiet for a while again. Was he seriously not going to ask her her number? “You want to know my number?”

“Only if you want to share it.”

She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, suddenly grateful that they were both staring at the ceiling and he couldn’t see her face and she couldn’t see his. “I’ve been with eight.”

Maybe it was her imagination, but she could have sworn she heard an exhale of relief. But to Krista, eight was high. She came from a town where most girls married their high school sweetheart, so their fuck number was one. So with a number like eight, Krista was a trollop in Tanner Ridge.

“Eight guys are not very many at all,” he finally said. “The way you were breathing heavily just now had me thinking you were going to be in the triple digits.”

She bit her lip again. “Uh … eight people.”

He turned over onto his side, propping his head in his hand. “You’ve been with women?”

She nodded, deliberately not turning to face him. The ceiling was much easier to look at. “Yes.”

“How many?”

“Two.”

“Was it … ?”

“One was in a threesome. One was just the two of us.” Finally, because she couldn’t take it any longer, she shifted and faced him. “Does this change your opinion of me?”

Slowly his head bobbed in a nod.

Oh shit.

“I think it’s hot.”

“You do?”

He nodded more emphatically this time. “Yeah. Was it like an experimental thing? Or did you date this girl for a while?”

She mirrored him and propped her head in her hand. “It was when I went traveling. She’s from Poland. We met in Guatemala and started traveling together, and one thing led to another and we had a couple of fun weeks together.”

“So are you bisexual?”

Krista lifted one shoulder casually. “Maybe. I don’t really know.”

His hand came up, and he cupped her cheek. He tugged her in for a kiss on the lips that was more than peck. Seconds later he pulled away but didn’t release her. “Bisexual, hetero whatever, I’m just glad you’re in my bed now.”

Reveling in the warmth and safety of his touch, she leaned her face into his palm. “Who are you, Brock Hart? I can’t figure you out. I’m having a baby with you, share your bed and yet I know very little about you. And you know very little about me … because you don’t ask. Tonight is the first time we’ve ever really talked about ourselves and it’s been so nice. I want to know more. And I’ll tell you whatever you want to know about me. You just have to ask.”

His brows knitted together for a second, and he studied her so intensely that she squirmed. Had the man even blinked? And then, all of a sudden, he changed again. The scowl returned, the walls or fence or whatever was back up, the mask was firmly on, and his eyes flitted to the clock on the mantel.

“It’s getting late,” he said gruffly. “We should go to sleep.” Without waiting for her to respond, he pulled his hand away and rolled over.

Leaving her staring at the back of his head with a crushed heart and wondering what the hell had just happened.