by Jillian Neal
“I am?”
“Hell, yeah.”
“Okay, well, are we?”
“Look at me. I need to ask you a few things, and I don’t want you to be embarrassed. We’ve been friends forever. I want to do right by you. Can you just answer me honestly?”
“Uh …” Hope tried to imagine what he was about to ask. She saw no option but to agree. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“When you had sex before, you said he didn’t last. Was there any foreplay or is he just a complete asshat?”
Biting her lips to keep from laughing at Brock’s colorful descriptions, she forced herself to remember those nights that she’d truthfully rather forget. “If you’re asking if he fingered me, no, he didn’t. So, I guess there wasn’t any. He said I would like it better without that.”
“Did he know it was your first time?” Another round of anger perforated his tone, and his eyes darkened from their typical liquid amber with flecks of green to an irritated hickory color. When his eyes did that it always fascinated her, but she concentrated on his questions.
“Yes.”
Shaking his head, Brock ran his hands back through his hair. Hope watched his fists clench by his sides. “Did he go down on you?”
“Uh, no, no one’s ever done that to me.”
“Good. Well, not good that he didn’t even do that, but good, I want to be your first. Did he use any lube?”
She shook her head. “No, but the condom kind of felt slimy and drippy.” She wrinkled her nose.
“Oh, I really want to meet this guy,” he growled. Hope knew all of those things should probably have happened. She just hadn’t known how to insist upon them.
“So, really, how long did he last?”
“The first time? Not as long as either of those kisses. I don’t think he was even all the way in. All I know is it really hurt for a second and then it was over. The next few times weren’t much better.”
When Brock was finally able to unhinge his jaw, he drew a deep breath, filling his lungs with Hope’s scent. It calmed him. It always had. Whenever he was given the opportunity to hug her, he always tried to memorize that smell, like clean, fresh linen just taken off the line, the prairie flowers that used to grow in the fields near his aunt and uncle’s house, and watermelon candy.
“And you haven’t slept with anyone since Asshat?”
Giggling, she shook her head.
“Then no, we’re not doing that tonight, and sure as hell not here.”
Her face fell, and he hated himself, but he was doing right by her. “Hope, sweetie, if I get the extraordinary pleasure of taking you to bed, giving you pleasure, making you come over and over again, I’m going to do this right. I’m not that cocky, asshole, high school football player that thought he had the world on a string anymore. We’re gonna go out, and talk, and have a real date. You want to experience things, so that’s what we’re gonna do. Then when you’re sure you’re ready, we’ll go back to your place, your bed, somewhere you feel safe and comfortable, and somewhere with a bathtub in case things are still a little uncomfortable.” He listed his requirements, though his mind was unable to think of anything but the sexual discoveries she wanted to make.
A round of guilt racked in his gut. He’d had sex with more women than he could count. He tried to shut out all thoughts of his high school life. The star player on the football team rarely got turned down. He may never have learned a damn thing in any class, and he couldn’t read anything from a textbook, but he could read women, and that was the only information he’d taken with him from graduation and had applied to his adult life.
From where he was standing now, looking at the sweetest, most beautiful girl he’d ever had the chance to be around, he’d love the opportunity to go back and beat the shit out of his younger self; not that his father hadn’t done plenty of that. Brock should have done a million things differently, a million things that might’ve made him able to be hers a lot longer than the few weeks she was asking for.
“I have one more question.” He softly brushed another kiss along her forehead.
“Okay, and then will you tell me why we need a bathtub? Are we having sex in a tub? If we’re not, can I add that to my list of things I want to do?”
Astonished that she’d managed to make him laugh again, he nodded. “You can add most anything you want, unless it’s bringing in another guy for this.” Every time he thought about Trent being there that evening, it infuriated him all over again. “I do not sword duel.”
She cracked up as she nodded her understanding. When she regained her composure, she gave him that broad, beaming grin that always undid him. “No other guys. I can’t even imagine what you would do with two, and I’ve read several books like that and there’s always this part where both guys are doing the girl at the same time but not, you know, one in each hole. They’re both in her vagina, and it makes me cringe in pain. Although, it probably doesn’t actually hurt since kids come out of there.”
Brock stared at her dumbfounded. He had no idea what to make of that, but what the hell went on in those books she read? “Uh, okay, I’m not gonna think about that too much.”
“Sorry.” She wrinkled her tiny adorable nose. “You’ve always been easy to talk to, and you know I just blurt out everything I think. I’ll try to stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop that. I’ve always loved that, but I still have one more uncomfortable question.”
“Right. Sorry, okay, go ahead.”
“I know you’ve never come with a guy. Have you ever gotten yourself off, sweetheart? Have you ever climaxed at all?”
She’d been okay until that moment, but now it appeared her entire body might ignite from her the heat of her embarrassment.
“Hey.” Brock guided her head back to his chest so she didn’t have to maintain eye contact. “I’ve jacked off ‘til my balls are blue thinking about you, so no embarrassment, remember?”
“You have?” She sounded stunned.
“Definitely.”
“I’m not exactly sure,” fell from her lips in a timid confession. He kept his hand rubbing soothingly up and down her back. “It felt good, but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to feel, so I don’t know if that was it. It didn’t sound like the way it does in the books I read.”
“If you don’t know, then that wasn’t it.” My God, she’d never had an orgasm, and he was going to give her the first. In some former life he’d obviously been a saint. That was the only way something this astounding was happening to him.
“Okay, so the bathtub thing?” She was quick to change the subject.
More than happy to have the questions turned on himself, Brock stepped back and considered how to best answer. “Because I’m big, and it might be a little uncomfortable. I swear, I’ll be so gentle with you, but if you’re sore afterwards I’ll give you a bath. It’ll help, and give me the opportunity to worship your body in a whole different way.”
Hope couldn’t formulate any completed thoughts. They all seemed to tangle in her mind in a confusing collision of him jacking off thinking of her, the fact that he wasn’t going to have sex with her that night, and worshiping her body. If he’d liked her, why on earth hadn’t he spoken up? Probably for the same reason you never did. That very annoying thought fought its way through the chaos, just to irritate her, it seemed. Wait. Did that mean maybe this could last longer than the time it took them to do everything she’d requested? Quickly deciding to add several items to that list instead of asking if he’d be interested in a long-term relationship, she wrapped her arms back around him and hugged him close. Nothing had ever felt so good as having some small claim on Brock Camden.
“We still have to pack all of these books.” He chuckled as his hands continued to softly explore her back and neck.
“Kinda forgot about all of that,” she admitted as she slipped off of the counter, and her right foot promptly landed on his. “Sorry.” She cringed.
Laughing and shaking his head, he ge
ntly brushed another kiss on her cheek. “No worries. You’re why I wear steel-toed boots, darlin’.”
Rolling her eyes, Hope glanced around at all of the work that stood before them. She wished all of the books would disappear and that they could go back to more of that kissing. Suddenly, Brock was grabbing a handful of her right butt cheek. Gasping, she turned to stare at the mischievous smirk he was giving her.
“I’d say I’m sorry, but truthfully, I’m not. You have a sexy little ass, and I’ve wanted to grab it for years. Seemed like now was definitely the time.”
“You could’ve grabbed it back then, you know. I probably would have fainted, but you still could’ve.”
Chuckling, he gave her backside a firm smack. Her eyes goggled as she allowed the motion to move her forward and stared up at him in shock. He winked at her. “Wanted to do that for years, too.”
Trying to quickly process everything in her world that had just changed and to figure out why being slapped on the ass by Brock Camden was probably the sexiest thing she’d ever experienced took over her entire brain. She’d gotten all A’s in chemistry, biology, and anatomy in college. Why was this so hard to understand? All she knew for certain was that the frantic fluttering of her heart and the fact that her stupid thong was now drenched with desire meant that she desperately wanted more of whatever Brock wanted to teach her.
Geez, Camden! What the hell? Truthfully, Brock couldn’t quite determine why he’d smacked her ass. Sure, he’d wanted to do things like that for years, but how had she completely stripped down all of his practiced restraint in one evening? She’s had shitty sex and never even had an orgasm. Dial down the dirty stuff for a while. She wouldn’t even know if she was into that yet. Yeah, but I sure as hell will be figuring that out soon enough. That thought brought another cocky smirk back to his face.
“If we pack really fast, can I at least have more kisses before you go home tonight?” She gave him another adorable grin.
“Definitely. You didn’t think I’d be able to resist that long, did you? Let’s get this done. I’ll box; you label.” Somehow, he was able to remember her instructions from several minutes before, and the impending disaster that could come of him trying to determine which section the books had come from and then labeling the boxes accordingly.
Offering him an out, his stomach protested his lack of pizza rather loudly at that moment, and she giggled. That sweet melody was intoxicating as hell, but he’d only heard a few soft moans for him, and the icing on the cake would inevitably be getting her to beg for him—or scream for him.
“Maybe we should actually eat first.” Hope took his hand and guided him back towards the storeroom.
“You really are a genius.” He fixed them both a paper plate full of pizza slices. They were a little cold, but pizza was good at any temperature.
After his stomach was full of food and his mind was full of images of teaching Hope everything there was to know about sex of every variety, he set to work. Stacking books wasn’t that different that stacking bricks. He’d worked the local brickyard three summers before. He’d met Steve there, and they’d become friends. Steve had gotten him hired on as a roofing subcontractor in the Hastings Farms subdivision. He’d shown him how to improve his skills. The last Brock had heard, Steve had taken a bad fall off of some scaffolding and was on permanent disability.
His hands landed on the books Hope had shown him as her examples of her lacking sexual experiences. The guys on the covers weren’t just scantily clad. They were glimmering and each holding some kind of sports equipment. Shaking his head, he held them up again and chuckled. “I have played a lot of ball in my day, and I’ve seen a shit ton of sweaty dudes. Never seen any glisten quite like this, though.”
Another round of giggles came from Hope. Making her laugh was absolutely intoxicating, a heady drug he never wanted to quit.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, but she’s a really good author, and those sparkling sweaty guys have landed her on the New York Times over and over again.”
Brock shook his head and continued loading the books into boxes. “So, what you’re saying is women like sweaty athletes?”
Hope grinned. “Well, I always thought you looked really sexy in your uniforms.” Oh my gosh. I’m flirting with Brock. This is weird. She still couldn’t quite navigate this new relationship.
“Yeah, well, I burned the practice ones, and they’ve ridiculously got the others hung up at Wellsley, or I might even offer to wear them for you again.”
“Did you seriously burn them?” She knew he hated his fame and glory, but that sounded extreme.
“Yup, but I was a being an asshole. I did it to piss off my old man. Hey, I was going to get a crew out here to load up all of the furniture in here once we have it unloaded and take it to one of Ryan’s storage facilities. Is that okay with you?”
That was a less-than-smooth transition, but Hope understood that he did not want to further discuss the state of his high school sports uniforms. “Uh, yeah. Do I need to pay the rental fees? I’ll start working at the library next week, but I won’t get paid until the end of the month.” Thinking about the shop and the money to do the repairs still couldn’t quite cure her extreme excitement. She was dating Brock Camden, even if it was temporary.
“Nah, don’t worry about that.”
“Do you ever go see your dad?” The question leapt from her mouth before she could hold it back. She cringed, and for the thousandth time in her life tried to order herself to think before she spoke.
With a deep sigh, Brock continued to methodically load books into boxes. Hope was impressed that he was managing to get more in them than even the publishing houses packed in there when they were shipped out. “No, not really. I tried to call him last year on his birthday. Mama begged me to. But he’s still just as much of an asshole as he was when he drank. Instead of railing on me about playing sports, now he rants that I don’t go with him to church. It’s ridiculous.”
Hope offered him a sympathetic smile. She was still angry at herself for bringing it up. Brock’s parents had divorced three years ago. Shortly after that, Mr. Camden had stopped drinking and had loudly and obnoxiously become a born-again Christian. According to Brock, this abrupt switch meant that his father now felt he was forgiven for being as mean as a striped snake.
“I’m sorry I brought him up. I’m really sucking at the not-sticking-my-foot-in-my-mouth thing tonight.” Trying to concentrate on the goal that they needed to accomplish, she labeled the boxes he’d stacked on the counter for her.
“Hope, I just made you tell me if you’d ever orgasmed while you masturbated. I think it’s completely fair for you to ask me whatever you want. Besides, I like how you just sort of blurt out whatever’s on your mind. I like not having to guess with you. That’s what was making me crazy about you, hemming and hawin’ over telling me you wanted us to sleep together. You’ve never done that with me. You always just say what’s on your mind.”
“I still can’t believe I actually, finally, said it.”
“I’m glad you did.” Suddenly, he was carrying another massive load of book boxes and was standing behind her. He slid them on the counter and then drew her back against his body, enveloping her in the masculine heat that radiated from his entire being. She inhaled deeply, breathing in that scent of him, some kind of clean aftershave, soft leather, pine trees, and a beach fire. “We’re going to have fun, and I’m loving that we get to do all of this exploring and not ruin our friendship.”
“Yeah.” She refused to say more. She’d gotten what she wanted. She wanted to explore with him. Asking for anything else was a risk she just couldn’t take.
By midnight, Hope was yawning far more than she was talking. With that sexy chuckle of his, Brock wrapped his arms around her yet again. “How about I take you home and we finish up tomorrow? I think you need to get some sleep.”
“Are we still going out tomorrow night?” Had they decided that or had she just dreamed that? She rubbed her e
yes and tried to remember.
“Sure, but we’re not going to go see Oceans 11. I want to take you out somewhere nice. Let’s start doing stuff you haven’t done before.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, sweetie. How about we hit the Lobster Shack, have a nice meal, and then we’ll go from there.”
Though she sincerely hoped from there actually meant to her bed, she wrinkled her nose. The Lobster Shack was the only semi-nice restaurant on Gypsy Beach, and she ate there often. Her aunt insisted on having Sunday afternoon lunch there each and every week. Hope mentally cursed Skye for moving away again and leaving her to manage their aunt on her own. She wanted to experience things beyond the tiny beach town that had provided the backdrop for most of her life. She didn’t want to go with Brock to the Lobster Shack.
“Uh, you know, they always have a band on Saturday nights at Blue Surf in Wilmington. You wanna go there? I’ll pay.”
Brock scowled. “You’re not paying, Hope. I’ll take care of it, and sure, Blue Surf will be fun. I definitely do not mind thinkin’ about swaying you to some good music after we eat, either.”
“I’ve never really danced much before.”
“Stop worrying about what you haven’t done and let’s have some fun. If you don’t ever try anything new, this experimenting thing is gonna be short-lived.”
Grinning, Hope decided that he definitely sounded like he wanted this new portion of their relationship to last a while. She let that thought soothe over the concerns plaguing her excitement. He was right. It was high time she stopped worrying about everything that could go wrong and focused on having fun with him. That was why they were doing this, after all.
It was just after one when Brock gave Hope one last goodnight kiss and left her in her tiny beach bungalow. The rent was late again. She tried to care, but she just couldn’t right then.