Page 120 of Fire in You

I didn’t call Brock.

I finished my day at the Academy and then I drove home without getting the huge plate of cheese fries like I’d anticipated earlier.

I drove home and found myself standing in the second bedroom, staring at all the wonderful books I’d brought home.

Mostly I was just in a daze as I turned over in my mind everything Kristen had said. Never would I have expected she would show up and say those things. If only the part she’d said about herself was true, the bare-bones honesty was shocking. But some of what she’d said hadn’t surprised me.

I’d always feared that Brock was here, back in my life and with me, truly with me, because he felt like he needed to. And that hurt, that cut so deep it was nearly a physical pain.

That fear made it feel like a gorilla was sitting on my chest. That fear stole my appetite. That fear swept the successes from the last couple of days right out from underneath me.

And Ihatedthat.

Part of me just wanted to ignore what Kristen had said to me, and that was a huge part, because that’s what the old Jillian would’ve done. The one who didn’t have a flicker of fire in her.

The old Jillian would’vesettled.

That Jillian would’ve pretended that everything was okay, because it was easier and safer than facing the pain, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to forget it. It had wormed its way into my head and it would stay there even if I forced myself to let it go, and it would haunt everything I did and every word Brock spoke.

Reaching out, I dragged my fingers across the smooth spines of the books and then dropped my hand.

But I wasn’t her anymore.

The conversation with Kristen preyed on the doubts I’d buried deep over the last couple of weeks. They were now brought to the surface, leaving my skin and soul feeling raw and brittle.

I couldn’t just pretend the conversation between Kristen and me had never happened. I couldn’t wish it away. I couldn’t be okay with that fear that had existed before Kristen walked through the doors. I would talk to Brock. I just didn’t know what he could say that would truly erase the doubt, because I worried that this was more than him.

That I was letting what Kristen said dig in deep, because ofmyown issues—mydoubts,myconfidence,myfears.

And I didn’t know if it was all on me, and if it was, how I was going to fix that.

* * *

A hand slipped over my bare arm, to my hip, pushing the covers down my legs. The rough, calloused palm grazed my thigh, sending a rush of tight, hot shivers over my skin.

“Babe.” A deep voice stirred the hair against my temple.

Feeling a hard warm chest press against my back, I blinked open my eyes. Confusion swirled as I turned my head sideways. “Brock?”

He kissed the corner of my lips. “You say that like you don’t know it’s me.” The drag of his rough jawline along my neck caused me to gasp. “Who else would be climbing into your bed at one in the morning?”

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.”

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