Kristen Ashley - Wild Man

“No!” I yelled. “No way. No fucking way. You used me.”

“It’s my job,” he ground out.

“Do you think I give a shit?” I asked.

“Maybe if you’d calm the fuck down and listen for a goddamned minute you’d understand why I do think you should fuckin’ give a shit.”

“I can assure you, Brock Lucas, that nothing you can say will make me understand why I should give a shit,” I informed him.

“Your ex, Tess, that motherfucker needed to be taken down. That motherfucker is serious bad news.”

My body went completely still at his words and I held his eyes as my next words trembled.

“I know that, Brock. I know.”

And it was then I watched with rapt attention as his eyes immediately melted quicksilver and his hands moved from the counter to my head, palms at the base of my neck, fingers in my hair and his face dipped an inch away from mine.

Then he whispered a ragged, tortured, “Baby,” and that one word cut through me like a jagged knife.

Oh God.

He knew.

Of course he knew.

Of course.

Of course, of course, of course.

That thing tight in my belly uncurled, filling me up, slinking up my throat and this time it wasn’t filled with the paralyzing poison of fear or despair. It was something else.

Panic.

I tried to tear away but Brock held on, one hand still at my head, the other arm sliced around my back, he shuffled me down the counter and pressed me into the corner.

With no way to escape, I held my body tight, hands pressed against his chest and kept my eyes glued to his throat as I whispered, “Let me go and get out.”

“No one knows that shit happened to you, do they?” he asked softly.

“Let me go and get out.”

“You haven’t told any of your girls.”

Eyes firm on his throat, I demanded, “Let me go, Brock, and get out.”

“Kept that shit buried deep,” he murmured.

My eyes lifted to his and I screeched, “ Let me go and get out! ”

His arm around my back tightened and his hand shifted so his fingers were still in my hair but his thumb swept over my cheekbone.

“I was the first you let in there, wasn’t I, baby?”

Oh God.

“Let me go and get out,” I whimpered.

“Tess,” he whispered.

I fell silent.

“You need to let that shit out,” he advised and my gaze slid to his earlobe. “Eyes,” he ordered and my gaze slid back.

I still didn’t speak.

He held my eyes.

Then he said softly, “I held back takin’ us there, Tess, I didn’t want us to go there until the shit with Heller was done and you were cleared and we were good to move on. But your goddamned glasses and that cute fuckin’ look you’d get on your face every time I kissed you that made you look like you just experienced a fuckin’ miracle, shit .” His hand tensed on my head. “Shit, baby, you got to me and I couldn’t hold back.” His thumb swept my cheekbone, his eyes went from warm to hot and his voice went deep when he told me something but he said it like he was talking to himself, “That look gets way fuckin’ better after you come.”

“Please let me go and get out,” I whispered.

He shook his head. “It’s the job and it’s a shit part of the job and I’ll tell you, Tess, I knew he violated you, no way I’d have played you. No way, Tess.” His voice got lower and his face got closer when he said, “You gotta believe that, babe. I wouldn’t have played you if I’d known.”

“But you did,” I said quietly.

His hand tensed on my head. “I didn’t know.”

“You still did it.” I leaned into the counter, pulling back my head. “I didn’t play you. I never played a single game with you. But you played me from start to finish.”

His hand tensed on my head again as his eyes started glittering. “That’s not true, Tess, and you fuckin’ know it.”

“You’re right, Brock. Earlier with what you said, you’re right. You’re the first person I let in there and when I did, I didn’t even know your fucking name.”

“That fuckin’ guy had to go down,” he growled.

“Yes, he did but it doesn’t warm my heart to think the first man I trusted with my time and attention after a very, very bad marriage was with me only to investigate my possible criminal relationship with my definite criminal ex-husband.”

“It started like that, yeah, it did and that lasted about a goddamned hour. You cannot stand there lookin’ in my eyes and tell me you don’t know the fuckin’ second it stopped bein’ that because, you do, you’re a goddamned liar.”

He was not wrong. I knew. I knew the exact second. I’d lain in bed at night thinking about that too.

Therefore, I didn’t respond.

He kept speaking. “I had a job to do and we wanted a clean sweep. I knew you weren’t gonna be swept up in that but I also knew they had to make certain so I had to make them certain before they hauled your ass in and you finished them off.”

“So you’re saying you did what you did to protect me?”

“No, I’m sayin’ I did my job, you weren’t dirty, no need to protect you. And I’m sayin’ for four fuckin’ months I liked my job a whole fuck of a lot.”

That took my breath away. So much so, I couldn’t speak.

Brock didn’t have the same problem. “You didn’t have my name, Tess, but all that time you had me and you know it.”

I looked back at his throat.

“Baby, eyes, ” he growled and my eyes lifted to his.

“Why are you here?” I asked quietly and he sighed.

Then he asked back impatiently, “Honest to God?”

“What do you want from this talk?” I pushed.

He shook his head but as he stared at me I saw his eyes light and felt the sharp flickering voltage of his mood shift out of the room as the sweet hum that came with his humor started pulsing through it.

“How many conversations do you think I have with women I corner against a counter, hold in my fuckin’ arms and do it with icing all over my favorite fuckin’ tee?” he asked.

Oh God.

I had to move this away from Brock being sexy and amused back to Brock being out of my life somehow so I did the best I could do.

“I don’t know. Turns out, I don’t know you very well.”

He held my eyes and replied, “Well, lettin’ you in a little more, the answer to that question is none. A bitch throws attitude at me, shouts in my face and gets icing on my Charlie Daniels tee, that bitch isn’t you, I walk out the door.”

“I’m not fond of being referred to as a bitch,” I snapped.

His face dipped close and I saw his eyes were now full on lit with his amusement. “And right now, darlin’, you’re just holdin’ on to hold on and we both know it.”

Damn. He was right.

I held his eyes.

Then I tried a different tactic.

“I can’t do this now. I’ve got a cake to finish decorating, I need to change my shirt because now that icing is on me and I have a baby shower to get to,” I informed him and his lips tipped up as his hand at my head became fingers that slid through my hair then it moved down and around so he was holding me in both arms.

Damn, I missed this. He could be sweet, a lot. When he got in a good mood it was the best, the best ever. And he could be touchy, a lot. He held me, he held me close, he held me loose, he held me while he laughed, he held me while I laughed, he held me while he kissed me and he held me just because.

And I missed it.

Damn.

“When’re you gonna be home?” he asked.

“Later,” I answered.

“When later?” he pressed.

“Later, later,” I evaded.

His arms gave me a squeeze and he said low, “Tess.”