by Jillian Neal
Brock guided Hope into the Blue Surf Restaurant and Night Club. The music was already blaring and sending slight throbbing jolts through the restaurant flooring.
A waitress led them to a quieter corner table and placed the menus in front of them. “Welcome to Blue Surf. We’ve just redone the menu and what’s available at the bar. I’ll bring you some water and be back in a minute to get your orders.” She rattled off the canned phrasing for welcoming diners to the restaurant.
Panicked, Brock seated Hope and then stared down at the new expanded menu for Blue Surf. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He’d been here dozens upon dozens of times. It was an outstanding place to pick up female accompaniment for an evening of carnal pleasures. All of the booths were rounded, making getting close very convenient. They managed to blend the nightclub atmosphere with an intimate beachside restaurant very well. He’d drop by every few weeks just to blow off a little steam. He always ordered the surf and turf with hush puppies and fries. It was impossible to tell if they still had that option available as the menu had been upgraded to one that no longer had pictures and was written in a scrolling font. Lifting his head, he started to ask Hope what sounded good, hoping she’d clue him in, but his brow furrowed as a convulsive shiver worked through her body.
“You okay, sweetie?” Distracted from his issues with the menu, he scooted closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. They were bare except for the enticing spaghetti straps of the dress. “You cold? I think I have a jacket in the truck. Let me go get it.”
“No, I’m okay. I just can’t really remember why I wanted to come here. I had a horrible time the last time I came with Jana and Sophie. They hooked up with a couple of guys and left me on my own. I hated it. Men kept hitting on me and grabbing at me. I wish I’d picked somewhere else for tonight.”
“I’ll try not to be offended that you don’t think you’d have a better time with me than your book club, and no guy in this bar is gonna hit on you tonight unless they’d like me to forcefully feed them the wood decking when I stomp their face into it. I’m right here. I’ve got ya. Try to relax and have fun for me. If you want to leave, just say the word, but I will always keep you safe.” He settled back against the booth and kept her tucked against him. He was extremely pleased with the contented sigh she gave him as she nuzzled her face against chest.
Reveling in Brock’s concern over her, Hope considered how he opened most every conversation between them by asking if she was okay. He always wanted to take care of her.
“Anything look good?” He gestured his head to the menu.
“The seafood linguine with scallops looks good, but you don’t like seafood unless it’s fried.” She pointed to the scallop dish on her menu.
His jaw clenched, but she couldn’t quite figure out why he looked frustrated. Surely there was something on the new menu he wanted. The plates they offered didn’t appear to have changed too much. “Nope, I don’t, but get whatever you want. While we’re dating, I’m doing the buying.”
“You don’t have to do that, Brock.” A slight heat pinked her cheeks again, but she couldn’t avoid the fact that he knew most everything about her, including the fact that she had little to no money after this roof project was completed.
“I know you make no money in the off-season, sweetheart. Let me pay. I want to.” He leaned closer and whispered, “You can pay me back in bed.” Before she had a chance to respond to that, he went on. “Hey, I thought of something else we should add to the ‘things you haven’t done but should do’ list.”
“Really? What?”
Okay, asking her if they still had the surf and turf was not an option, and she wasn’t being too forthcoming with information on any dish he might could stomach. Moving on to plan B, he decided to just ask the waitress what she recommended.
“We should take you out to Hatteras and ride horses for the day.”
She stiffened beside him. “I don’t know. Horses are big, and I have no idea how to even get on one.”
Brock tried not to be offended. Did she really think he wouldn’t help her? “Well, I wasn’t gonna send you off on your own, darlin’. I do have a little bit of experience in that I was practically born on horseback and I go riding all the time. You can even ride with me for a while if you want. You said you wanted to try things. Stop listening to that voice in your head that makes you scared to experience things. I would never let you get hurt, Hope. You know that.”
“I know you wouldn’t. I just hadn’t ever really pictured myself up on a horse.”
He could see the terror and determination go to war in her eyes. She wanted so badly to be brave. She really did want to experience things, but just then all he wanted to do was to take her home, do everything in his power to make her feel safe and secure, and then let her lead them wherever she wanted to go. She’d been through so much. Her parent’s wreck had left her with extreme anxiety over most everything. He’d been trying to coax her out of her shell for years. “It’ll be fun. I swear.”
She gave him a nervous grin and nodded as the waitress returned to the table.
“Okay, it’s happy hour, so Chad says orgasms, blow jobs, and slippery nipples are buy one get one.” The waitress jerked her thumb towards the large bar that sat in the back of the restaurant, near the interior dance floor, to a man pouring up liquor quite skillfully.
Liquid fire had consumed Hope’s cheeks.
Brock tried to cover up his hearty chuckle over her embarrassment at the titles of the drinks on sale. He guided her back into his arms and kissed the top of her head to give her a place to hide against his chest. “Do you want a drink, sugar?” he murmured near her ear. “I’ll get you whatever you want, but fair warning, if you get tipsy, we do nothing more than sleep tonight. That’s a rule I won’t even bend, much less break.”
Hope lifted her head and gazed up at him with what appeared to be unnecessary admiration.
“Yeah, I definitely like your cowboy side, and I’ll just have a Coke.”
Chuckling, he brushed another kiss in her hair and inhaled deeply of the scent of her. “Not all cowboys are gentlemen. Never forget that.” Remembering that the waitress was awaiting his answer he turned back to her. “I don’t think we’ll need any of those … from the bar anyway.” He winked at Hope just to make the heat that was just starting to fade slightly from her cheeks reappear. “We’ll take a pitcher of water along with a Coke. The lady likes a lime in hers, and I want a bottle of Budweiser.”
The waitress sighed audibly and rolled her eyes. “K, what do you want to eat?”
Brock assumed her manners only extended as far as her foreseeable tip, and they’d just disappointed her with their inexpensive drink orders. “Uh, what do you recommend?”
The waitress popped a piece of gum in her mouth and began smacking. “Oysters are the special tonight, on the half-shell or fried. Your choice.”
Brock tried not to scowl. He despised oysters of all varieties. Truthfully, growing up in Nebraska hadn’t given him much taste for seafood in general, but he could stomach fried shrimp. He was a firm believer that if it came up out of the ocean it should be battered and fried, but oysters were a no-go. “Do you still have the surf and turf special?”
“Yeah, it’s right there.” She pointed to the first item listed on the new menu.
Trying not to grimace, he nodded and forced a pompous smirk. “Sorry, must’ve missed it. I can’t seem to take my eyes off of her.” He brushed another kiss on Hope’s cheek and internally lambasted himself for using her yet again.
Hope looked extremely pleased by his comment, only serving to make him feel worse. “So, I’ll take the surf and turf and she’ll have …” he turned to Hope, “You still want the scallop thing?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I’ll take the seafood linguine, please.”
“No problem.” The waitress noted her order, slid the pad in her black waist apron, and headed towards the kitchen.
“This is still a little weird. I’m not sure how
to act,” Hope admitted.
“Hey.” He lifted her chin gently until she was staring up at him. “Just be yourself. We’ve been friends forever. That’s why this will work so well. Seriously, just relax.”
“I’m trying. Relaxing is hard for me.”
Laughing and shaking his head, Brock knew that was true.
“Plus, you got me all turned on in your truck, and that was both awesome and weird.” She finally allowed everything that was consuming that brilliant brain of hers to surface.
“I definitely prefer awesome over weird, but do something for me.” Brock urged.
Hope studied him speculatively.
“Close your eyes, take two deep breaths, tell yourself that we can be friends and lovers and that everything is going to be fine.”
She performed the deep breaths, and, he hoped, his mental prompting as well. “Okay, I’ll try to chill.”
“Good, now tell me, do you have any kind of camping stuff or do we get to go equipment shopping before our trip next weekend?”
“Uh, you hate to shop, and why on earth would I own a sleeping bag when I own a bed?”
Still chuckling at her, Brock couldn’t recall the last date he’d been on that he’d genuinely been able to laugh and relax. He’d known going into this that dating Hope would be different, but he hadn’t expected it to be so much better.
“I don’t hate to shop. I hate to shop for books and clothes, and that’s 90% of what happens when I go shopping with you. Shopping for gear is a whole different ballgame.”
“Be nice to my books, Mr. Camden, or I’ll start reading them to you.”
“Ha! Well, if you start with those love scenes you’re always reading I might let you, just so I can show you that outstanding sex can’t be captured between the pages of a book.”
“Wrong! I mean, I’m sure it is totally different, but women need their minds stimulated as much as our bodies.”
Cocking his left eyebrow upwards in defiant challenge, he leaned closer to her. “Oh, sugar, I plan to stimulate each and every part of you. Don’t you worry.” His hand grasped her right thigh, and his fingers played suggestively just under the hem of her skirt.
Unable to help himself, his callused hand gained another few inches. “I can’t wait.” He let his hot breath teased the delicate skin just below her right ear and seductively taunt her neck.
“If you keep saying things like that I’m not going to make it through dinner,” she confessed.
“Remember, darlin,’ the more you want it, the more you need me to bring you relief, the better it will be for both of us.”
Another shiver shot through her body as his hand continued to massage her thigh. His eyes were a dark whiskey color, and he stared at her like they were somehow the only two people in the entire surfside bar.
She could hear the band playing and the droning conversations punctuated by the occasional squeals of intoxicated women going on around her, but they seemed to drown in that moment. His fingers traced higher, and for one single moment she allowed herself to just feel. She shut down every annoying thought that sent warning blares throughout her. Her eyes closed in an extended blink. They certainly weren’t the only couple hanging all over each other in one of the booths or out on the dance floor. That’s what couples did at Blue Surf.
The fingertips of Brock’s left hand tipped her chin upward and suddenly his lips were on hers again. Lush and lavish, as if he needed to prove his commitment to her with that kiss. His hand was soft against her cheek as he turned his head and continued his slow, methodic feast.
More. The only thing she was capable of recognizing in that moment in the darkened bar was that she desperately wanted more; more of him, more of his lips, more of his musky scent in her lungs, more of his tongue caressing and coaxing hers. She wanted his hands on her fully, his fingers inside of her. She needed him to feel how wet he made her. She needed him to make it better. Nothing mattered but being thoroughly filled with Brock. Shifting against his hand, her legs spread slightly.
“So fucking tempting, sugar, but not here.” He breathed against her lips. “I’m gonna lay you out, touch you, stroke you until you come for me, but only I get to see how beautiful you are when give that to me. Your body hot and bowed back for me. Your juices dripping down my fingers. Your cheeks and lips on fire for me, your nipples throbbing. I want to watch your sweet little pussy pull me deeper. No one else gets to see you like that. That’s all for me.”
“Brock, please,” she whimpered as he brushed kisses along her cheek and continued to gently stroke her inner thighs.
“That’s it. Tell me, honey. Tell me what exactly has you all hot and bothered for me right now. Do you like it when I trace you like this?” He tempted her swollen pussy with a gentle, teasing stroke. “Or do you like it when I tell you what I’m gonna do to you?”
“Please … stop.”
His hand froze on her inner-thigh for a split second before he jerked it away. “I’m sorry, Hope. I thought you were into it. I didn’t mean to …”
The blistering heat had flooded her cheeks all over again, but she grinned up at him.
“I was into it. Really into it. I don’t want you to stop, but I know you’re not going to go as far as I want you to go. You just … I don’t think … I’m just not sure you understand what you’re doing to me. Maybe it’s different with girls that are more experienced. I don’t know, but all I can think about is how badly I want to leave here and get into bed with you. I want to know what that’s like, and I kind of feel like you’re taunting me. I said I wanted to do stuff in public, but you don’t seem like you want to do that tonight. I guess my body is impatient or confused or something.”
Relief eased the tensed features of his face. “Thank God. You scared me. I thought I’d gone way too far. I was sitting here calling myself every horrible name I could think of, but I swear, Hope, I’m not trying to taunt you. I fully intend to make good on all of those promises. I’m just having a hard time thinking about anything else. And you’re sitting right beside me. You always look beautiful, darlin,’ but this little dress, the boots, you staring up at me, wanting me. You’re so damn hot I can’t think straight.”
Forcing himself to sit back, he hoped the slight distance between them would help them both calm. He longed to tell himself that the reason he hadn’t known what the menu said was because he was distracted with her, that he couldn’t think. She was so damn beautiful, and that would be so much easier to accept. As much as he wished there could be no secrets between them, he would never and could never tell anyone else that he would have had just as much trouble reading that menu if he’d been here with Matt and Seth. How would Hope react to confirmation that he was stupid?
“Here are your drinks. I’ll be back with your meals soon as they’re up. Can I get you anything in the meantime?” Ripping them from the moment, the waitress set the pitcher of water on the table and handed Brock his beer. After setting Hope’s Coke near her, she stood back and waited.
“No, this is fine. Is the food going to be much longer? We have plans this evening after dinner.” Brock kept his dark hazel eyes locked on Hope’s, letting her know that she certainly wasn’t the only one anxious to get this portion of their date over with.
“Nah, shouldn’t be too long.”
“Then we’re fine.” Brock dismissed her. He took a long swig of the beer trying to reorient himself. He drew a deep breath, but that unique combination of beautiful scents that were purely Hope filled his lungs again. His mind spun back to her earlier declaration. “Wait. What do you mean I’m not going to go as far as you want me to go?”
Squeezing her eyes shut for a split second, she shook her head.
“Come on, Hope. Do you mean in public or in bed?”
“In public,” she supplied readily. “I have no doubt that being in bed with you will be heavenly. I just don’t know what’s okay in a bar like this, and I can’t seem to be able to figure out if I desperately want you to keep
kissing me and saying suggestive things like that or if it will cause me to spontaneously combust, which would be super embarrassing.”
“And do I get a say in this at all?” He couldn’t help but tease her. He loved that she was being upfront with him; not that he’d expected any different from Hope.
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, you do. Hello, you’re the guy I’m asking to make out with me in public.”
“If I get to make out with you, I’m happy no matter where we’re doing it, but I’m not putting you on display for other men. Until we decide that we’re going back to being friends and not lovers, you’re mine. There’s a fine line between wanting to show off a little, wanting everyone to know we’re an item, and shoving it in people’s faces, showing them more than anyone deserves to see. There are things that are for my eyes only, at least for the foreseeable future. I will not bring you in public. That’s for me. I will always be respectful of you and of this relationship. Those are the rules. You okay with all of that?”
Hope made a concerted effort not to giggle. “I’m okay with all of that, and I think you’re commanding side is sexy. But don’t take it too far, cowboy.” Before Brock could laugh at her outright, she continued, “Except maybe in bed, because I do now understand why that’s so appealing.”
That did it. He cracked up. She knew he would.
“I’ll have to see what I can do about that.”
Still trying to admit to herself that she actually had just said everything she’d just said to Brock, Hope sighed. That drawl of his voice was going to be her undoing. She wished she were half as confident as he seemed about their whole deal. He really seemed to think they could be lovers and then go right back to being friends later. Lovers. That’s what he kept calling them. The word itself sent flutters of elation throughout her entire body. All of the confusion that continued to flood her brain settled with that word. A definition. That’s what she’d been looking for. For now, they were lovers. Later, they would go back to being friends. No reason to get all caught up in the semantics. Sophie and Jana were right. She really did overthink everything. Being Brock Camden’s lover felt illicit and sexy, two things she was not accustomed to feeling.