The Space Within (The Book of Phoenix #3)

by Kristie Cook

  My hands made their way down his muscular back to the hem of his t-shirt and under. The heat of his skin under my touch electrified me, and I rocked against him again. He returned the stroke, and we continued sliding and thrusting against each other, moaning and whimpering as our mouths remained locked and our hands explored under the other’s shirt. His palm cupped my ribs, and his thumb stroked over the thin material of my bra, then pushed its way under. Our thrusts came harder and faster, my back scraping against the side of the pool, but I didn’t care. I broke away from the kiss to gasp for air. I was going to come, and he hadn’t even touched me there.

  “You feel amazing already,” he murmured as his lips slid over my cheekbone. “I don’t have a condom with me, but I want to—”

  I froze. He tensed against me.

  “We can’t do this,” I panted as rationality finally edged its way into the overload of hormones.

  “I know,” he said, even as he rocked against me, wracking another wave of bliss over me. “We can go up to my room. I have some up there.”

  I shook my head. “No, Brock. This. Any of this. I can’t—I won’t. I won’t be your fuck buddy or booty call.”

  He pulled slightly back, enough to look at me. Now that we’d been out here long enough, it didn’t seem as dark. Light from Hope’s kitchen windows provided enough for me to see his face and the tilt of his lips and pull of his brows low over his eyes as he studied me.

  “Asia, you will never be a fuck buddy or booty call to me.” He leaned in closer and pressed his forehead against mine. “You mean so much more to me than anyone ever has.”

  “Anyone?” I challenged, my tone clear about Connor … and possibly his baby’s mama.

  “You know what I mean.” He pressed his lips lightly to mine and didn’t move away as he spoke. “I was about to say I want to make love to you, Asia. I’ve never made love to anyone, but I want to make love to you. I want to know every part of you, outside and in, including your heart. Because you’re already embedded in mine. Into my fucking soul.”

  If I’d been standing on land, I might have collapsed due to my bones liquefying. Instead, I melted against him, kissing him again, but softly this time. I pulled away when it became urgent and heated again.

  “I want to make love to you, too, Brock. But not now. Not yet. I want—I need—to know that this is what we both really want. That it’s not an accident because we’re both lonely and horny and out of control.”

  “I promise you it’s not an accident. I told you before that everything I do with you would be on purpose.” He sucked my bottom lip. “Although I am fucking horny, thanks to you.”

  I kissed him one more time, then dropped my legs from his waist and pushed him back. I slid to the side as he floated away. “Seriously. I need to know this is what we both want when you don’t have a damn hard-on, and I don’t feel like a cat in heat.”

  He laughed. “You have such a way with words.”

  “I’m learning from your mom.” I swam for the steps, but as soon as I climbed out, I regretted it. Although the temperature was probably in the sixties, the air made the water on my skin feel like ice.

  “There are towels in the laundry room,” Brock said as he hoisted himself out on the side of the pool.

  “There are towels in my apartment, too,” I said, shivering. “And that’s where I’m going.”

  “Me, too.” He stood right in front of me now, and his arms enveloped my trembling body.

  I crossed my arms over my nipped out boobs before they pressed against him. “You’re going to your home. You’re going to cool off before you try to convince me this is what you really want.”

  “I’m already fucking cooled off,” he said, his teeth chattering.

  I ducked out of his embrace. “Go home, Brock. Put some dry clothes on. You know what I want now, but you need to think hard about it.” I jogged for the garage and the steps on the side of it, my soggy shoes squelching the whole way, and then called over my shoulder, “I’m really sorry for dumping you in the pool.”

  Once up the stairs and inside, I ran for the bathroom, turned on the hot water, and had barely pulled out a towel when my phone beeped from the kitchen counter with a text message. Brock had already sent four. The first one was kind of long, for a text anyway:

  “I miss you. Terribly. I shouldn’t have said what I did and pushed you away. I made the decision for you, and I’m sorry. Please forgive me. If you don’t want to be with me, I understand, and I’ll leave you alone. But if you do at all, just give me a sign, and I’m there.”

  The second was much shorter: “In fact, I’ll probably be there anyway because I’m a fighter, and I’ll fight for you. That’s who I am. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  Sheesh. How had he texted all of this already? He must have had super-thumbs.

  The third: “Shit. You’re not answering. I hope I didn’t scare you off. I’m going for a run so I can hopefully stop thinking about you. I doubt I will, though, so I’m leaving my phone here so I’ll at least stop bothering you.”

  I scrolled back up to the first message and the time showed those three had come in over an hour ago. The last one had come just now:

  “I’ve been thinking about this for a month. I’m done thinking. I already know what I want…the same thing I’ve wanted since the day I met you. My hard-on’s gone. In fact, my dick’s turtled up. So when you’re done feeling like a cat in heat, lemme know.”

  Another text dinged: “Shit. I’m hard again. Sorry. Can’t help it. Thinking of you.”

  I laughed as I walked over to the window, feeling a pull toward it. I pushed the sheer curtain to the side and looked down toward the main house’s kitchen window, where a large form stood. Brock’s, without a doubt. I held my hand to the glass, and he did the same. With my other hand, I replied to his text.

  “We need to talk.”

  I watched as he looked down at his palm for a long moment, and then he turned away from the window. My phone vibrated in my hand.

  “On my way.”

  I shook my head and headed for the bathroom that had filled with steam, unable to help the smile on my face. I used my feet to push off my wet shoes and socks while pulling the shower curtain to the side. I couldn’t stand one more minute of shivering to try to remove my wet clothes, so I stepped into the shower still wearing my shirt and shorts. When I went to draw the shower curtain shut, a hand closed over mine, making me jump.

  “Oh, my god, you scared me!” I gasped. Brock climbed into the shower with me, also still wearing his running shorts and shirt. “I could have been naked!”

  “I was hoping,” he said with a smile, his dark eyes full of mischief … and promises. I looked at him with a raised brow. “I knew you weren’t. I saw you getting in.”

  I kept my eyes open and on him as I stepped backwards into the spraying water. The heat felt like heaven, and my body immediately relaxed. Brock moved closer, his skin covered in goose bumps, and I reached up to move the showerhead to include him. Our arms slid around each other, and we stood silently under the water until both of our bodies stopped shivering.

  At least … shivering from the cold, because then we began trembling from each other’s touches.

  Brock’s hands moved up to my cheeks, cupping them gently as he tilted my head up toward his. His smoldering gaze alone sent a flame of heat through me. Water flattened his hair and flowed down his face, off his nose and over his full lips, and I wanted to lick it off. I slid my tongue out, catching the falling water. His eyes flared even more before he leaned in with puckered lips and sucked the water off my mouth, drawing my bottom lip in, too. A new chill ran through me at the same time that a ball of warmth blossomed in my belly. I gripped his face in return and licked and sucked the water tumbling over his mouth. Our lips meshed, our tongues lapped, our bodies pr
essed closer and closer together until no space remained between us.

  My heart galloped away at breakneck speed, my lungs striving to keep up as I drew in small shallow breaths between kisses, until finally I had to lean my head back to draw in more air. Brock seized the opportunity, moving one hand to the nape of my neck, cradling me while sliding his mouth over my jaw and using his other hand against my lower back to lift me upward, closer to him. His hot lips on my skin, his tongue swirling against my throat, his mouth sucking at me and the water did nothing to help the whole breathing thing. And his desire growing between us only fueled the ball of fire in my belly whose flames now licked downward.

  Brock’s arms slid around me, and he lifted me fully off my feet. I wrapped my legs around his waist and whimpered in his strong arms as his lips traveled back up to my ear and his erection pressed into my shorts.

  “This is better,” he murmured as he straightened, not having to hunch over me to plant his mouth against mine again.

  The steam from the shower, rising from our bodies, the heat within as his tongue plunged my mouth intoxicated me. I became lost in the sensuality, in the way his full, soft lips moved with mine, how his fingers slid softly over my skin, how he was gentle and hot and urgent all at the same time. He made me drunk with his kisses, and I think I made him drunk with mine. There was no thinking. No more talking. Only kissing and licking and caressing.

  Our hands slid under each other’s shirts at the same time, and we peeled them off within seconds. My fingers skittered over the fine contours of his torso, exploring the hills and valleys of his muscles as his mouth and tongue learned the dips and edges of my collarbone and shoulder. When he found one of my most sensitive places, where my neck curved into my shoulder, and his lips sucked as his tongue swirled, I moaned and pressed myself against him, rubbing against his tip. His teeth nipped at me before his lips clamped down, and my pelvis involuntarily rocked against him. His erection became rock hard between us. My breasts felt full and tight, my nipples little marbles straining against my bra.

  I unwrapped my legs from his waist and slid down his body to my feet, the friction of my breasts against him fueling the flames. His hands slid up my bare sides and ribs and pushed under the sports bra, lifting it, freeing my breasts from the confines. He brought it over my head, then dropped it with the other wet clothing that was piling up at the other end of the bathtub. Our gazes locked and held as we removed our shorts and then stood there, the shower raining down on our naked bodies, steam rising from our feverish skin.

  Brock’s hand reached out, and every inch of my skin tightened, aching for his touch. His fingertips brushed my wrist and lightly trailed up my arm, over my collarbone, down my sternum, between my breasts, and over my flat stomach. He stroked a circle around my belly button, and the fire exploded, making my knees knock and my thighs clench. I circled my hands over his wrist and pushed it downward, between my legs. His fingers stroked the edges at first, making me whimper, and finally one delved further inward. My mouth parted with a moan, and my eyelids fell halfway down, but never did his eyes leave mine.

  His other hand slid over the small of my back, his fingers over my ass, and he pulled me a step closer, causing my belly to rub against his erection and his fingers to slide inside me. We both moaned now, and what had felt like a sensual dream in the clouds of steam instantly became urgent, frenzied. Our mouths couldn’t devour the other fast enough. Our hands moved frantically, wanting to touch every bit of the other person at once. He backed me into the wall, and reached around me to turn off the water as he looked down into my eyes. My skin screamed for his touch, and my insides ached for him to fill me, but my heart and soul were drowning in those beautiful, deep, dark eyes that invited me to gaze through them, into his soul.

  “I love you, Asia,” he said, his voice thick and husky. “I’m sure of it. I don’t need to think about it a second longer, so please don’t force me to. Don’t turn me away again. Because I most definitely know I want to make love to you.”

  I stared up at him, into his chocolate eyes that didn’t shine with mischief or twinkle with a tease. Only sincerity came through now, firm and genuine. He didn’t look expectant, either, as though waiting for me to say it back. But I did anyway.

  “I love you, Brock, and want to share it with you. Everything.” I sucked my bottom lip in. “But, uh, we need a condom.”

  With only a smile for a reply, he yanked the shower curtain open, swept me into his arms and carried me to the bed. He laid me down on it before dipping his hand in the large, decorative vase that stood next to the nightstand, holding tall reeds of dry grass.

  “What are you doing?” I asked as I propped myself up on my elbows. “I thought you were getting a condom.”

  He pulled his hand out with a square, foil package dangling between his fingers and a big grin on his face. “I’ve always kept a few of these hidden in the apartment since middle school. You know … just in case.”

  I threw my head back and laughed, my insides quivering, making me giddy. “Since middle school?”

  “I had high hopes.”

  “Please tell me that’s not that old.”

  “Nah. I threw this one in before I moved out … and you moved in.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. He smiled as he stepped up to the bed between my legs, his full nakedness giving me quite the view.

  “As I said—high hopes.”

  I returned his grin as I sat up and took him in my hands. “Well, I have high expectations.”

  I helped roll the condom on, then scooted back on the bed as he crawled on over me. I spread my legs so he could move between them. His head dipped down, and he licked his way up my belly, around the swell of my breast, and over my hard nipple. Then he sucked the swollen tip into his mouth, and my lids fell closed as my back arched off the bed, my whole body wanting to feel the heat and wet of his mouth and tongue. I whimpered when he pulled away, needing more, but he inched his way higher until he hovered directly over me.

  He lowered himself down to my body, flesh against flesh, and his mouth claimed mine as his thick maleness claimed the rest of me. He only prodded at first, as though testing. I opened my legs further in answer, wet and hot, ready for him. With a small push, he slid in, hard as steel, and began to fill me a little at a time, slow at first, until I was convulsing around him. And then he pulled almost all the way out, his head pulsating at my opening, teasing both of us, before pushing in faster and further than before. He repeated this, each time thrusting deeper and sending a wrack of shudders through me. We moaned into each other’s mouths as he stroked in and out, and my hips lifted to meet his. Our rhythm became faster, our movements harder, and our cries louder until our mouths had to break apart as we both arched into the other, aching for the release that was coming. A wave of chills swept over my skin. My belly soared and then plummeted. He plunged into me one more time, and my toes curled as I screamed, and I swore my soul flew out of my mouth.

  I couldn’t believe what I felt—like I’d left my body and hovered over it on a bigger high than I’d ever experienced in my life. And I swore I could feel Brock floating next to me, even when I could see both of us on the bed, our mouths open and our eyes closed as we reached our climaxes together. My soul and his somehow mingling together, like they were one. Then I was suddenly back, feeling through both my body and soul, the most amazing, belly-dropping, bone-shattering orgasm I’d ever had.

  “Damn, Asia,” Brock panted as his arms gave out and he collapsed on top of me. “I knew we’d be perfect together, but … fuck.”

  I laughed against the weight of his body. “Yeah … me, too.”

  He rolled over onto his back and turned his head to look at me. “Expectations met?”

  I smiled. “Hopes fulfilled?”

  He returned my grin with a beautiful, satisfied one of his own. “Exceeded.”

&n
bsp; “My expectations, too.”

  He inched his arm over, slid his hand under my palm, and intertwined his fingers with mine. “Mom has Connor all night.”

  I gave his fingers a squeeze. “I love your mom.”

  “Yeah, she’s pretty awesome. But, let’s not talk about her when we’re naked, okay?”

  I laughed and rolled into his body, pressing the full length of mine against his side. He wrapped his arm around my back, and we lay together peacefully for a while. Well, for a few minutes, anyway, before we caressed each other into another round of bliss.

  Happiness had returned, and not just for Brock and me. The next day he brought me to the main house for breakfast, and Hope beamed at us. It was still awkward because she obviously knew what we’d done—what I’d done with her son—but the woman seemed almost as content as we felt. As if she’d accomplished something. I supposed she had, though. If she hadn’t been so supportive, we would have probably never found our way back to each other.

  March brought perfect weather to South Florida while people back home and at school suffered through more blizzards, but Brock and I had our own heat no matter where we were. Even though we’d said The Three Words to each other, I often wondered if we really only felt lust. My feelings were so strong for him and his seemed to be the same for me that I could hardly believe they were real. Then I’d find him doing something special and unexpected for me—little things like bringing over a book I’d mentioned I wanted to read or buying a TV series box set of DVDs because I hadn’t been able to watch the last season of my favorite shows. And I’d do the same, like picking up a six-pack of his favorite beer and bringing home his preferred study snacks. But they were such little things, I could easily convince myself that we did them simply because we were thinking about each other, more physically than anything.