I PANT AND repeatedly blink to find my focus. My vision is still blurry around the edges, and my heart pumps hard, making my ears buzz. Brock’s side is pressed against mine and his broad chest is still heaving. Our legs are entwined over the rumpled sheets, our clothes on the floor marking our path from the moment he opened his door.
“Do you take pills to boost your performance?’’ I turn my head to the side, looking at his flushed face and swollen lips.
He gapes at me and then bellows a laugh so loud and carefree that it shakes the bed. I can’t help but join him. I don’t remember the last time I heard him laugh like that.
No, in fact, I can remember it.
We were in high school freshman year. I didn’t have a date for homecoming, and he orchestrated everything to make a grand gesture to invite me. We laughed so hard that I had cramps for hours afterward.
Since then, Brock has always been far less carefree. He laughs, but it’s a different kind of laugh, probably born from adulthood.
Right now, my insides flutter as I cuddle closer to him, unable to resist his appeal. He snakes an arm under my head and pulls me closer.
“I’m taking that as a compliment.’’ He kisses my temple and chuckles silently, his chest rumbling under my ear. “And just so you know, I don’t need any pills when I have such a hot woman in my bed.’’
“Sweet talker.’’ I hit his hard stomach, and of course, it does nothing to him. Though, it does make me crave him once again when I see his abs flex and I feel how hard his muscles are under my ridiculous fist.
After a few minutes of silence, he runs a hand along my arm before he opens his mouth. I glance up at his face, very serious all of a sudden. “It’s crazy what’s happening. The more days pass, the more I’m sure it’s not real, Addy.’’
“Why?’’
He rubs his eyes with his other hand and sighs. “It feels too good, too empowering.’’ He clears his throat. “Too intense.’’
I try to remain unmoving in his arms. I only want to clench my hand into a fist, the same hand I’m currently using to trace odd patterns on his chest and abs, but I don’t. I keep it gliding over his smooth and sweaty skin. I don’t understand why I’m suddenly so unbalanced, so…afraid. I shouldn’t be afraid, after all, it’s not like we’re in a relationship. And I don’t love him that way. But I’m not ready to quit this, not yet.
“Why is it a bad thing? Intensity is the reason why sex is so explosive,’’ I whisper near his heart. As my breath hits his chest, goosebumps pebble his skin and the first thing I want to do is lick his flat and taut nipples.
“It’s not a bad thing.’’
“Then what?’’ I pull away and bring an elbow to the pillows. I hoist myself up and put my head in my hand, my eyes locked on his.
“Drop it.’’ He shakes his head and sits on the other side of the bed, his elbows on his bare thighs. In his back, his muscles ripple a few times before he curses under his breath and stands up.
When he walks away without a glance for me, I feel something break, not inside of me, but between us. I can’t explain it, but it was there, and now, it’s not.
I suck on my breath and don’t try to stop him from retreating to the bathroom. A couple of minutes later I hear the shower on, and I stand up in a jump, steeling myself as I hunt down every piece of my clothing.
I need space, and it’s not like I have much of a choice. He had never retreated from me before. Not even once. Not when he had his heart broken from a girl in high school, and he never told me her name. Not when his father pushed him to become an architect like him, and he refused.
I know that it’s more complicated now, and he can’t walk to me and tell me what’s going on in his head when it comes to that, but I thought he would reach out because we’re both in the same boat. But men and women have a hard time talking whenever sex is involved.
It’s not because you know so well the other person that the rules are broken.
Quickly, I put on my skirt and blouse, foregoing my underwear. I grab my shoes tight in my hands, and I go back to my place, making sure to not slam the door behind me even if I do want to slam it so hard that it’d break the hinges. But I’m not like the scorn women running havoc. I have no reason to be scorned.
My hand shakes so badly that I have to take a deep breath before I’m finally able to put the key in the lock. I let myself in and fling the door close behind me, and grit my teeth as my eyes start itching. They shouldn’t prickle like this because I don’t want to cry. There’s no reason for me to cry.
I throw my purse on the couch and run to my bathroom. Without wasting time, I undress again, turn on the shower and without waiting for the water to be warm, I walk in, closing my eyes. I tilt my face up. The water drips all over my face, washing away my expensive make-up, washing away everything else.
Now, I can’t be sure if I’m crying or not. The water is cleaning everything away while the warm sprays also massage my body, slowly relaxing the tension that built up over the last ten minutes.
It’s been a year since I last cried over a guy and then it was because of a breakup. I had a reason back then, not so much right now. For all I know, the thing I think disappeared between us is just a trick of my mind after such an intense orgasm. After all, it’s a known fact that we, women, tend to be all emotional over guys once we got it good. Right? At least, it appeared that’s how I work.
Though my shoulders shake harder and I can’t ignore it. I am crying, sobbing even. Palms against the cold tiles, head hanging between my heaving shoulders, I don’t hold back anything. I let loose of the tight leash I keep on my emotions and just let go.
Cold air hits my side as the shower door opens. I don’t need to look up to know it’s Brock. He’s the only one with a key to my apartment, the only one with enough guts to always challenge me, always face me even when I’m running high on my emotions, something that doesn’t happen that often. Thankfully.
He doesn’t walk in the shower as I thought he would. No, instead he places his big hand on the small of my back, unmoving but oddly comforting. I take a few deep breaths, calming down the onslaught of contradictory emotions, pushing everything down to put back the lock on it all. I bring my face in the spray of water to get rid of the evidence of my cry fest and finally turn off the water.
“Why did you leave?’’ he asks softly, his deep voice softening the blow from when he left his bed earlier.
I shake off his hand and finally face him. He’s standing in his black pajama bottoms and nothing else, blocking me from leaving the shower. His face is closed off as if to either protect himself from what I could lash out or to better analyze what he should or shouldn’t say.
“Why did you leave?’’ I ask back, swinging his question at him.
His Adam’s apple bobs a few times in his throat, and he finally steps back to let me out. I shake my head and walk to the big lilac towel waiting for me, enveloping myself in it. The smooth fabric and soft scent of jasmine calm me as I go back to my bedroom, Brock on my heels, his golden-brown eyes not missing a single thing.
“I just took a shower, Addy.’’
I stop dead in the middle of my neat bedroom and spin around. I glare at him and push at his chest. He stumbles back with surprise. “Don’t lie to me!’’ I kick at my discarded skirt, and it flies to the foot of my bed. “You never lied to me before, so don’t even think about starting now, Brock.’’
“Don’t push.’’ He crosses his arms over his chest, his breathing shallow. His eyes are darkening, taking a menacing light and I consider dropping the subject. But I can’t, not when I spent long minutes crying in the shower. It’s not like me, and I don’t want to be the kind to take things in stride without uttering a single word when I’m raging on the inside.
I have a freaking backbone, and I have to use it.
“You know me better than that.’’ I point at his face from where I’m standing a few feet from him, my small and thin finger not very threatening. “Why did you leave?’’
He uncrosses his arms and runs a hand through his still wet hair, messing with the strands. Some tuffs of hair stand on top of his head and the left side. He averts his eyes. “There are things I can’t tell you, Addy. Things, I spent years keeping to myself, and I don’t want to talk about.’’
“So, your wonderful solution is to close off and avoid me. Real mature for a twenty-seven years old man.’’
His head snaps up, eyes hard. “Fuck off, Addy.’’
I gape and bring a hand to my aching heart. His words tear at me, deeply so. My mouth dries up, and my eyes sting all over again. “Brock—‘’
“Shut up! Every fucking time you do that. Every time you’re scared about something, which is more often than what you’ll ever admit, you push people away. Congrats then.’’
He sidesteps me and walks out of my bedroom and toward the front door. I run to him and snatch his elbow, my small hand looking like one of a kid in contrast to his muscular arm.
“What do you mean?’’
“I quit this thing.’’
I gulp and release him with a start. He bumps into my shoulder and leaves me alone in my apartment, my mind reeling from wonder as I can’t wrap my mind around what just happened and how things have gone from bad to awful in a matter of a few minutes.
The worst is that watching him leave actually breaks my heart because I know I did something wrong, something that has hurt him without me realizing it.
I run back to my bedroom, hunting down my purse. I find it on the bed. I empty it of all its content and finally locate my phone.
I can’t leave things like this, not with Brock. I need to know he’s still my best friend. I just need him. I don’t care if it’s irrational or if my fear is out of proportion.
With weak fingers and shivers running down my body in waves, I quickly type a text message.
You retreated from me. You have no idea how much it scared and hurt me. That’s why I left your apartment. - Addy
I put my phone on my white bedside table and go to the walk-in closet where I grab an oversized sweater Brock bought me when he went to New York for a conference. I snuggle in it and between the covers of my bed. I’m ready to put an end to this day, more so when I see that it’s been ten minutes since I sent the text and there’s still no answer.
I bring my legs to my aching chest and circle my arms around them, seeking comfort under my covers as I fight the tears threatening to come back with a vengeance. I’m still shaking. My fingers are so cold that they’re numb, but I can’t feel them on my thighs. I can’t handle anything aside from despair.
I need Brock. I want him. I miss him.
I don’t know what it means or if it means anything at all, but I know in every fiber of my being that he should be with me, in my bed, embracing me like he only knows how to. He should be trailing small open-mouthed kisses on my heated skin. He should be whispering hot and yet sweet words in my ears. And none of this has anything to do with our friendship. However, it doesn’t seem all that wrong to want these things with him. In fact, it’s natural and terrifying.
I sit up and look around my bedroom almost pitch black from the night. Nothing makes any sense. Brock and I shouldn’t make any sense in more than friends, and yet when I’m with him, I’m floating. I’ve never felt something so strong, so empowering. I always crave him, I never have enough of him, and I constantly want to see him. Usually, even in the beginning, I need alone time from the man I’m seeing, but not with Brock because I’m always myself with him. I don’t have to fake anything or be careful about what I say or do. I’m just me, and that’s what he likes about me.
It’s not love between us. It isn’t how I picture love should be, but it’s something else entirely, something that no word can describe. We’re just two best friends exploring each other on a more carnal level, and it’s starting to blur the lines. The craziest is that I want the lines to blur if it means that I can have more of Brock. I can’t let go of the Brock he has shown me over the last couple of weeks, and I don’t want to either. Where does that leave me? Us?
“Damn it! That man is driving me crazy.’’ I throw away the covers and run to my front door, not caring that I’m going down the hall in only an oversized sweater and no panties. I don’t care that someone on the same floor could catch me. I don’t even dwell on my fears of rejection.
I repeatedly knock on Brock’s door and don’t stop until he opens it.
He’s still in his pajama bottoms and has a glass of amber liquor in hand. It’s probably bourbon. His eyes are dull, not trailing down my body. Without hesitation, I jump on him, my arms around his thick neck, my legs around his tapered waist and my mouth on his, coaxing him with my tongue to part his lips. He groans and snakes an arm under my ass before he allows my tongue in his mouth in a soul-searching kiss.
Through the buzzing in my ears and the sounds of our shallow breathing, I hear the door close. He kicked it to press me against it, pushing his hardening length in my aching core. There’s not much separating us, and I’m craving more. I hunger for him. I want our connection back.
He breaks the kiss and pants in my ear. “What are you doing?’’
I run my nails into his scalp, getting a growl and a small bite just under my ear in return. I shiver and moan breathlessly. “I don’t care about what this is, Brock. I don’t care if you want to hide things from me as long as you make me feel like this.’’
He pushes his hips into me, and I arch, flattening my covered breasts against his bare chest. “How do I make you feel?’’
“Desired. Beautiful.’’ I kiss his neck. “Cherished.’’ I kiss his shoulder, and he shivers. “And so much more that I can’t describe. I don’t want it to end, Brock. I can’t let it end yet.’’
“I don’t want it to either, Addy,’’ he says in my ear before he nips at my earlobe and kisses down the column of my neck. “You make me wild.’’
My core clenches on nothing as I become wetter by the seconds. I tightened my arms around him and whimper on his words. “Give me everything, give me your everything, Brock.’’
He hisses, grabs me more firmly and pads to his bedroom, still clutching his glass of liquor in one hand. Weightless in his arms and plastered to his firm body, I tighten my hold on him. I kiss his neck, his clenched jaw and down to his hard and bulging shoulder, nipping and tasting him.
He kicks open his bedroom’s door and slowly lowers me down to the large poster bed over the wrinkled covers. I can still smell us on the sheets, and it’s arousing. His eyes take in my bare legs and my wet pussy revealed by my oversized sweater that hiked up when he handled me against the door.
He puts his glass on the bedside table, his eyes not once leaving my body. The intensity in his amazing eyes is impossible to miss, and my reaction to it is immediate. I writhe on the bed, silently begging him to touch me, to come closer and let me feel the bulge tenting his loose pajama bottom. I need to feel him.
He kneels on the mattress and glides his hands over my legs, starting at my slim ankles and up my shins, knees, and thighs. His fingers trace small circles on the inside, getting closer and closer to my core. My breathing speeds up, my fingers tingle.
“You want my everything, Addy?’’ he whispers above me, his eyes trained on my legs and now up between them. He fingers the hem of my sweater and moves it upward some more, trailing his fingertips on my skin over my stomach. He bites his lower lip, and I want to be the one biting it. I want to be the one tracing it with my tongue.
“Stop teasing.’’
He chuckles and opens my legs before he settles between them. Slowly, eyes locked with mine, he lowers himself over me, keeping most of his weight off me. But feeling his thick cock already hard against my aching core and his strong chest against my heavy breasts, flattening my hard nipples, is enough of a turn on to bring me to my knees if I’ve been standing.
“Anticipation is part of the game.’’ He kisses my jaw, runs his nose along my ears and blows air on my neck. I shiver under him and grip his back, a hand close to his firm backside so very tantalizing. “I love how you squirm under me, how you make those low sounds, how your nail dig into me just because you want me inside of you so badly.’’ He pushes against me and it gives me an inkling of what he’ll do to me once he discards his pajama pants. I whimper in the crook of his neck.
“Let’s keep the anticipation card for next round because right now I want you to fuck me hard and fast, Brock,’’ I say in his ear, licking a path from the crook of his neck to that place behind his ear that I know makes him shiver without failing. And he does.
He growls and straightens up. With impatient hands, he pushes my sweater up and over my head before I realize what he’s doing. But soon enough, I catch up and tug down his pants and use my feet to push them down until he kicks them off expertly.
Feeling a man’s body, naked plastered against my soft curves equally naked is unexplainable.
I warm all over, ache in the deepest parts of me while my hands trace the hard expense of muscles on his back and arms. He leans down and trails open-mouth kisses on the swell of my breasts, nipping here and there to earn those low noises he seems so fond of. I can’t help it, he makes me rather loud, which isn’t something I wasn’t exactly aware of before him. Not to this extent at least.
I arch up and tug on strands of hair, directing him toward my breasts. He chuckles against my skin, but soon the sounds morph into something more primal from deep within his chest when I moan. He bites my left nipple while toying with the right. I push my hips upward, needing to feel more of him, to have some release where my clit pulses with need.
“Brock…’’ I moan and force his face back to mine in a scorching kiss that leaves us breathless and writhing against each other. “I need you. Now.’’
He grunts and mumbles something against the crook of my neck, but I don’t get it. I’m too lost in this, in these sensations he’s creating in me. I let one of my hands wander down his back, and my breathing accelerates at feeling how his muscles flex each time he pushes against me without ever entering me.
“Please, Brock.’’
He sits up, grabs my legs and hikes my knees higher. I promptly cross my ankles over his fantastic ass. Everything in me is screaming with joy and anticipation at feeling him fill me so perfectly until he makes me lose the last strand of control I pride myself of hanging onto. He caresses my thighs up to my hips and tilts them upward until the thick tip of his cock is at my entrance. I hum in approval, ready to push against it to finally have him where I need, where I ache for him.
“Jesus, Addy. Stop moving, or I’m going to lose it,’’ he says in a strained voice, thick with dark desire, something that calls out to my baser instincts and makes me wetter. “I should make you come once with my mouth or fingers before.’’
“No, I need you inside me.’’ I run my hands over his chest, flicking his flat nipple, scratching my nails over his pec and down to his bulging abs.
“Having you beg me…Damn…’’ he trails off and thrusts inside me, slowly filling me to almost pain, feeding, stroking my fire with a low growl.
I camber, my hips meeting his on instinct as I close my eyelids tight, reveling in the feel of him deep in me, the closer he’d ever been, the closer we’d ever been. I re-open my eyes when he starts to move, and I lose myself in his blazing eyes.
He’s pushing hard against me, his thrusts so deep, so hard that each time he’s ball deep in me, his groin strokes my clit, and that drives me completely crazy.
I push on his ass, urging him on when I can’t keep my moans trapped in my throat. He kisses me hard, our teeth clashing, our tongue battling as we moan and groans in each other’s mouth, still moving against each other, him thrusting in me in earnest, building a sweat over his eyebrows.
That man sure knows how to bring a woman to orgasm. Never once does he stop, never once does he stray from touching my breasts. He’s everywhere and yet fucking me harder than ever, mixing pleasure with that light touch of pain that easily feeds my pleasure to the point of drawing out tears.
“Brock… Brock…’’
“Now, Addy.’’ He angles my hips upward by grabbing my ass while he levers himself on his knees, his strong thighs flexing under my weight. “You’re there. Let it go,’’ he grounds out through gritted teeth, the muscles in his jaw flexing feverishly as the cords in his neck appear.
I dig my nails into his shoulders and cry out my release. I don't know if I’m saying his name or something else. I’m seeing stars and then black spots before I let out the last wave of orgasm as he pumps inside me twice more and growls out his release, shaking hard against me, his fingers biting harshly in the globes of my ass.
The silence that envelops us is peaceful, and my mouth twitches when the muscles in my cheeks are begging to flex in a sated and bright smile. But I manage a compromise to satisfy my hang-up. I’m smiling a tight-lipped smile that probably looks like a smile you have on your face either when you’re constipated or when you’re feeling highly uncomfortable but trying to hide it lamely.
He kisses my jaw and rolls over on his side to discard the used condom. I watch his broad back as he stretches his arm down his body. He’s mesmerizing, and I still can’t reconcile this man with my best friend. It’s at odds with everything ingrained in me. It feels almost illegal and yet so exhilarating. The last time I experienced that kind of excitement was when I first went to college and had a few sexual encounters that left me sated and excited by what I dared to do. But here, today with Brock, it’s stronger, more overwhelming and I can blame our connection built up through years of friendships for that.
He stands up, stretches for a second in a contended male sigh, not at all put out by his nakedness in full display for my greedy eyes, and he walks to the bathroom, probably to get rid of the evidence of our sexcapade. He glances over his shoulder once, and I swear he’s smiling mischievously, almost as if he knows something I don’t. I want to question him, but to ask what?
I cover my face with my hands and shake my head when pictures of what just happened invade my mind. I let my needs take over everything else, rendering me helpless and at Brock’s mercy. Just because I can’t have enough of his body, of what he does to me. I’m twenty-seven years old! I should have left that hormonal shit behind me in high school or at least in college.
“Are you overthinking again?’’
I let my arms fall back on my lap, and I straighten up to sit against the headboard of the bed. Brock’s smile seems tense, but I don’t comment on it. He scratched over his left pec and walks back to the bed to sit next to me. His side touches mine, warming me comfortably and it fight off the uneasiness threatening to overcome me.
“Not exactly.’’ I stare at his profile and detail everything. His straight nose, his high cheekbone, the hard line of his jaw, the plump look of his lips slightly parted, his chin with a slight dip…He’s got everything from his father, from his good looks to his brain. “I don’t see any logic in all this. Why now? Why all of a sudden I don’t want a kid when I spent months thinking about it? Why couldn’t I let you go when you wanted out?’’
He turns his head toward me and smirks, his thick eyebrows shooting up. “And you call it not overthinking?’’
“Be serious. Don’t you ever wonder?’’
He shrugs and snakes an arm around my shoulders. Willingly, all too willingly, in fact, I snuggle against his big body, soaking in his warmth and the smoothness of his skin. I inhale him in, smelling the spice of his sweat and the lighter scent of my perfume coating his skin. I brush my cheek against his chest and bring my ear to his pec, listening to the steady pace of his strong heart.
“Did you ever pay attention how people reacted when they realized that we never hooked up in all the years we’ve been friends? We’re so close, Addy, that it shouldn’t be so strange.’’
“Even though we never came close to kissing before?’’
Goosebumps break over his skin when my breath tickles him. I run my left hand over his chest, enjoying the light dust of hair tickling my palm as the beat of his heart slightly accelerates. His arm around me tightens.
“Do you always have to rationalize everything? In life, relationships don’t always come with laws and rules to abide. Life is unpredictable, and so are we. It’s not because you’re always in need of control, of answers that you’re not subject to the same temptations and surprises than others.’’ His voice rumbles in my ear through his chest as his breathing sharpens.
I purse my lips but mull over his words before biting his head off. After all, he’s not criticizing me. I am in dire need of rules because I’m afraid of the impromptu. I’ve never been deeply hurt in my life, but my whole family made me realize early on that I’d have a responsibility not only toward our family and name but toward hundreds of people we’re employing. They always told me this, opening my eyes way too young, convincing me that I’d have to grow up fast and keep my focus at all cost to never make the biggest mistakes of my life. So yeah, I don’t let the possibility of making any error aside from buying the wrong brand of shampoo happen. That’s who I am.
“I’m not going to change now, Brock. I’ve always been that way, and I can’t exactly wipe clean my personality to build it back into something you deem right according to your standards.’’
“You’re twisting my words.’’
“Am I really? You’re always pushing me these days. In fact, ever since we slept together, you seem to want another Adeline.’’
He pulls away and forces me to straighten up away from him. He grabs my chin with his fingers and tilts my head to his face. His golden-brown eyes bore into me, efficient in keeping me rooted. “I don’t ever want you to change into something you’re not. Keep that in mind, because I never want you to think I’m belittling you or thinking badly of you.’’
“Then, what are you doing?’’
“I’m trying to open you up to me. There are parts of you, you keep to yourself, and I don’t understand why. I would never hurt you, and I’ve always been there for you if you needed me, but you put this wall between us…It’s maddening sometimes, more so now that you gave yourself to me.’’
I wrap my hand around his thick wrist, my fingers looking small in contrast to his. “You told me yourself that you’re keeping some things from me. Why can’t I?’’
“Why do you think I’m not telling you everything? It works both ways so if you’re not willing to let me in fully, I won’t either. Let’s call it self-preservation.’’
I frown and angle my face on the side, contemplating the spark of pain I see in his eyes, something I’ve never known to be there. “I’d never hurt you, Brock.’’
He chuckles and leans down to kiss the knuckles of my hand on his wrist. “You wouldn’t even know it.’’
“What do you mean?’’
He puts his forehead against mine and closes his eyes, hiding everything from me. His long black eyelashes touch his cheek. His nostrils flare for a second. “I’m good at hiding my emotions. I let you see only what I want.’’ He pulls away and kisses my forehead before he settles back down, ready to sleep as if nothing happened.
“The other day you told me that you didn’t know me all that well, but I’m starting to think that it doesn’t apply to me.’’ I give him my back and sit on the edge of the bed, my bare feet on the cold floor. “I’ve always thought we had a special bond, a friendship like no others and that it had nothing to do with our parents and the fact that we used to be neighbors growing up, but now I’m reconsidering everything.’’
“Our bond is special. Never doubt that or me.’’
“You’re sending me mixed signals. You know that?’’
He sighs and tugs on my elbow. I let him maneuver me back on the bed and against him, this time laying with my front plastered against his firm side. “I’m only human. I don’t have all the answers, and the unknown makes things difficult for me too.’’
“We’re acting like teenagers who just discovered how good sex is and are constantly going at it whenever they find some privacy. It’s disturbing.’’
He laughs and runs a hand along my spine, giving me delicious shivers that change in tingles in every corner of my body. “Amazing sex isn’t disturbing.’’
“It is when it also invades work. It can’t happen again.’’
“We got carried away, and you’re right. It’s not something we should do again, but it never happened to me before, you know… wanting sex at my workplace.’’
“I’m surprised. You’re always so serious at work, almost as anal as me.’’
“You make me think with the wrong head.’’ He entwines our fingers over his chest. “If only it wouldn’t feel so good to kiss you, touch you and be inside you, things would be easier.’’
“Trying to seduce me with your compliments?’’
“I’m stating the truth.’’
“Stop it. I know how much experience you have and even though I’m not a prude, it’s nothing compared to you. In that department, I’m sure you had better.’’ My stomach twists at the thought, but I school my face to not let my disgust and insecurity appear. After all, I shouldn’t care about his other partners. I shouldn’t think about it.
“Nothing ever came close to this.’’
“To what?’’
He shakes his head and turns off the light suddenly, taking me by surprise. “Let’s sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow.’’
I think about pressing him for answers, but I drop it. I shouldn’t always need to seek answers to analyze everything. Sometimes, it’s best to let things play out. At some point, he’ll give me the pieces of the puzzle I never realized is in front of me. Brock is way more mysterious than I ever thought and it’s frightening how much I need to solve this riddle.
I close my eyes and listen to his calm breathing deepening, his heartbeat slowing down and his warm chest moving up and down under my head, lulling me into a restless night of sleep.