Page 8 of Rock

“What if I don’t want to be fully covered?” she blurted before she could filter her thoughts. She slapped a hand over her mouth, mortified.

Rock groaned. “Baby girl… Don’t tempt me. You’ve been legal for like a minute. I’m not going to take advantage of you. I just want to make you comfortable.”

She glanced at his black-T-shirt-covered chest as she lowered her hand, feeling feisty and flirtatious. So out of her element. “Can I have the one you’re wearing?”

The groan that came from between his lips made her squeeze her legs together. She was going to self-combust. In addition, she was pretty sure he knew it.

Lyla had secrets. Sure, she presented herself as a total prude with her conservative clothes, high work ethic, and rule-following, but when she was alone in her bedroom at night, she let herself go into her fantasy mode.

Sometimes she read smutty books. Other times she simply closed her eyes and visualized every imaginable scenario with Rock. She liked to pretend he was her man. Meanwhile, she’d grown exceptionally capable of getting herself off with her fingers.

Rock stepped back, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to her feet. “Turn around.”

She spun away from him and held her breath while he lowered the zipper all the way down her back before turning her to face him once again. Releasing her, he hauled his T-shirt over his head and handed it to her. “Change, Baby girl.”

She was reeling as he spun around.

Oh. He means here. Now. Take off the dress and put his shirt on.

Jesus, this was hot. Why was this so hot? Probably because everything Rock did was hot all the time.

Lyla dropped the dress, stepped out of the pile of silk, and hauled the T-shirt over her head. She even lifted the front of it to her nose to savor his scent.

“You good?”

“Yes.” She sat, tucked her legs up under her, settled the bear in her lap, and held on to him, hoping he would provide moral support and courage. She didn’t care if Rock judged her for keeping the bear close. Besides, he’d given it to her. What did he expect her to do?

The teddy bear felt like a lifeline, grounding her in the present.

CHAPTER

FOUR

You’ve lost your mind, Monroe. What the hell are you doing?

Rock had not planned this. None of it. He’d waited for Lyla to get home for peace of mind. He hadn’t been certain he would even approach her. He’d waited on the basement steps for an hour, expecting her to come in smiling and giddy from her big dance.

When she’d stepped into the kitchen with her shoulders drooping and head hung, he’d quietly risen to his feet. When she’d sniffled, he’d lost it. Who the fuck had hurt her and why?

Rock lowered himself onto the couch next to her, not giving her any space. He let his thigh touch her knee, twisted so he was more fully facing her, and set his arm behind her on the back of the couch.

Picking up one of the tendrils of hair at the base of her neck, he fingered it. “Tell me what happened, Little Lyla.”

She sighed. “I’d rather not. It’s embarrassing. Can’t we just sit here and not talk?”

He met her gaze. Her eyes were watery again. Something happened tonight to upset her, and he didn’t like it. “Was it that punk Casper?”

She gave him a small smile when he fucked up the name again. “Aspen.”

“Right. Aspen.” He rolled his eyes. “Who names their kid Aspen?”

She shrugged and looked down at the bear, plucking at his fur absentmindedly.

“Aspen’s a decent name for a stuffed bear,” Rock suggested as he rested his hand on top of hers.

She lifted her gaze, her face scrunched up in a sneer. Now they were getting somewhere.

“No? What should we name him?”

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