Fire In You: Volume Six (Wait for You Series)

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  The promise in his gaze said I wouldn’t regret the decision. His head dipped as he kissed the space below my navel, and then he dropped lower, settling his broad shoulders between my legs, spreading me wider.

  I couldn’t swallow or breathe as his lips moved against the inside of my thigh, leaving a wet path upward, closer and closer to where I throbbed. My hands flattened against the carpet. The hair on his jaw scratched my skin in the most amazing way.

  “So damn beautiful,” he murmured.

  Completely exposed to his gaze, I trembled as his hand slid over my pelvic bone and dipped down. This was nothing like what we did in my dark living room. I’d done this before. Twice. It really hadn’t done a thing for me, and I had never been able to understand why some women were so into it, but the intense way he focused on me without even having touched me there yet had already surpassed my past experiences.

  He licked his lower lip as he looked up, his gaze piercing mine. “Do you trust me, Jillian?”

  Oh God, my heart swelled in my chest so fast and so big it felt like I was going to float right off the floor. “Yes.”

  Brock smiled at me and then he was on me. That was it. No warning. No fooling around. His mouth was on me, and the contact jerked my body. My back nearly came clear off the floor as heat flooded my veins.

  His tongue dipped in, and the way he kissed me there was hot and wet and deep and shattering. His tongue moved like he’d kissed me earlier, slipping in and out until my head fell back, and I couldn’t watch him anymore.

  I reached down, threading my fingers through his hair with one hand. He growled against me as my grip tightened. “Oh God.”

  Raw and primal sensations pounded through me as my hips moved, meeting the strokes of his tongue, and when he stopped, I cried out in dismay.

  Brock chuckled, and then I let out a strangled moan, because his mouth closed around the tight bundle of nerves as he worked a finger through the wetness and deep inside me.

  “God,” I gasped out, incapable of saying anything else as I tugged at his hair.

  My brain checked out as my body took over. I was rocking against his finger and mouth, and when he slipped in another finger, filling me even more, I started panting and making these sounds, these tiny moans I’d never, ever made in my entire life—sounds I would’ve normally been embarrassed over but not now. There was no room for embarrassment or thoughts or our past.

  There was nothing but what he was doing in me, stirring and building inside me. There was just his mouth and his fingers, and the way my body rocked and moved. Passion burned through me, igniting a spark that quickly grew into a flame as he went deeper and faster.

  I burned—burned for him in a way I never had when I was younger. Oh no, what I was feeling now was beyond anything I’d ever imagined.

  “Brock,” I breathed.

  God, he was unbelievably good at this.

  My body was coiling tight and my eyes flew open. My other hand flung out blindly, smacking into the side of the small bed. Brock made that sound again, that deep growl, and it threw me right over the edge. Crying out as every muscle in my body tensed and then released. Brutal pleasure poured through me, liquefying bone and tissue. I was lost to the storm of pulsing and throbbing.

  Unable to move much and beyond sated, my arms flopped to my sides as I watched Brock lift his head from between my thighs. A fully male, smug smile graced that beautiful, talented mouth of his.

  I gasped as he slowly withdrew his fingers from me and brought one to his mouth. He licked his finger.

  Oh my good God.

  Breathing pitched, my eyes widened. He was . . . there were no words. None.

  Brock rose, prowling up the length of my body and planting one hand beside my head. His lips glistened. “So I’m driving us home for Thanksgiving, right?”

  I couldn’t help it. A grin tugged at my lips and I laughed softly. How could I say no after that? “Yeah, you’re driving us home.”

  Chapter 24

  There was a small part of me—okay, that wasn’t true. There was a rather large part of me that wondered how things would be at work. Would Brock act like nothing had changed between us, or would he have no problem with public displays of all kinds of things? I had no idea if he wanted our relationship known to our coworkers.

  Then again, I had no idea if we were in a relationship. Just because he went down on me, giving me the most amazing orgasm I’d ever experienced in my entire life, and told me he wanted me didn’t necessarily mean we were officially doing the boyfriend/girlfriend thing.

  I was thinking I should probably clarify that.

  Brock stopped in my office Monday morning, one hand holding his phone to his ear and the other holding a latte for me. He winked and then walked back out. Of course, my face started flaming the moment I saw him.

  He’d put the other bookcase together and then spent the rest of the day watching a mini-marathon of Will Ferrell movies with me. We hadn’t talk about that night or what happened to me anymore. We’d ordered a pizza and then he’d left around eight. His goodbye kiss made me wish it were a hello kiss.

  After he blew my mind yesterday afternoon, he hadn’t let me return the favor. He’d rolled off me, found my pants, grinned like a cat in a shop full of canaries while he helped me pull them back on, and then got back to work on the bookcase. I wanted to return the favor, but because I was an idiot, I hadn’t been able to work up the nerve.

  With Ben, I hadn’t been the one to initiate any action between us, and since he had been my only relationship, that meant I’d never actively seduced anyone.

  I couldn’t even picture myself doing it.

  But I wanted to.

  Around ten that morning, I gathered up a stack of reports and headed for the conference room for our Monday meeting. Cradling the papers to my chest, I stepped out of my office just as Brock came out of his. I waited, feeling as nervous as I would have all those years ago.

  His lips curled into a smile as he approached me. “Love the skirt,” he said in a low voice as he leaned in, speaking into my left ear. “Shows off your amazing ass.”

  My eyes widened as I glanced around. The cubicle walls were too high to see over, but I didn’t think anyone overheard him. I still tripped over my own feet, though.

  Brock chuckled as he folded his hand around my forearm, steadying me. Shaking my head, I started to tell him to stop looking at my ass while I committed this gray skirt to memory so I could wear it again or find more like it, but just then Paul stepped out from behind one of the cubicles.

  His light blue eyes flickered from Brock to the hand curled around my arm. Something tightened in his expression, but it smoothed over so quickly that I wasn’t even sure I noticed it.

  Paul nodded in my direction before turning his attention to Brock. “I got a rundown from the trainers in Philly on the guys we sent up there.”

  Letting go of my arm, Brock took the paper from him. “Thanks, man.” He fell in step beside me as we continued to the office. “We’re going to check in on them when we’re there this week.”

  “Sounds good.” I glanced over at Paul, who was walking a few steps behind me, to my right. “What’s the game plan with them?”

  “If your father likes the way they’re turning out, he’ll keep them on up there,” Brock explained. “If not, they’ll be sent back down here for more training.”

  I nodded as we rounded the line of desks. Several staff members were waiting outside the door and were chatting. I felt Brock’s hand on my elbow. I glanced up at him questioningly and his thick lashes lifted, shooting a pointed look in Paul’s direction. The other man was staring down at me, and I realized he must’ve spoken.

  “I’m sorry,” I said politely, surprised I hadn’t heard him direct anything to me since when he spoke to Brock I could hear him. Had he lowered his voice? No, I told myself. I wasn’t even sure he knew I had hearing problems, and if he had, that would be a micro-dick move. “I didn’t hear you.”
/>   Paul’s expression was stoic as he repeated, “Do you have the new membership reports?”

  I frowned slightly, wondering why he was asking for that. “Yes. Is there a reason you need to see them?”

  Brock had stepped ahead, already entering the conference room, and Paul stopped as the rest of the staff followed him in. “Do I need a reason to see them?”

  I started to point out that I was well within my authority to question whatever the hell I wanted, but the statement died on the tip of my tongue. I took a deep breath. “I just don’t understand why you would need to see them as that is not your department.”

  “Actually, it sort of is.” Paul folded his arms as he stared down his long, aquiline nose at me. “Chase Byers, one of the guys who works the front desk, wants to transfer to training, so I need to evaluate his performance and make sure he’s earned the transfer.” He paused, features sharp. “I’m pretty sure Brock mentioned this to you?”

  I opened my mouth as I glanced into the room. I was pretty sure he hadn’t.

  “Jillian,” he said, touching my arm. “Did you hear me?”

  My gaze swung back to his. Okay. There was no way he’d just spoken or I was totally losing my mind. “What?”

  “Do you have his report?” he asked.

  Hating that I could feel my cheeks burning, I looked down at the reports I held and thumbed through them until I found Chase’s weekly activity sheet. I pulled it out and handed it to him. “Sorry. Here you go.”

  “Thanks,” Paul said, but sure as hell didn’t sound like he meant it.

  “No problem,” I responded, irritated more with myself than him. I was his manager, and yet I was the one apologizing? What the hell?

  Paul didn’t respond as he walked into the meeting. I didn’t get this guy and the problem he had with me. Frowning, I looked up and met Brock’s stare. His brows were raised. He was waiting for me and I was just out here standing around, staring at the floor.

  Lovely.

  Sighing, I shoved Paul’s attitude aside and walked into the conference room, closing the door behind me as I told myself that next time I was going to put Paul in his place.

  * * *

  Tuesday afternoon, close to three, my office phone dinged, signaling an internal call. I glanced over and saw the GM button was lit up. A smile tugged at my lips as I picked it up.

  “Yes?”

  “Need to see you,” Brock said through the phone and then promptly hung up.

  I shivered at the sharp bite of desire. Telling myself to chill and that his need to see me surely was work-related, I locked my computer as I toed my heels back on and then rose. Standing, I smoothed the skirt of the beige dress I’d found in the back of my closet.

  I really needed to go shopping for clothes.

  Brock had stayed late at the Academy last night, so I hadn’t seen him after I left work and before I returned this morning. He had texted last night, telling—not asking—me to have nice dreams of him.

  It was so corny that I’d laughed out loud when I saw it.

  The text, the kiss yesterday he stole while he came in my office before I left, the entire weekend and all that he’d done—none of it felt real. Which was why, when I chatted with Abby last night and made plans to see her when I was home, I hadn’t mentioned what was happening with him. Maybe by then I could.

  The floor was mostly quiet as I walked the short distance to Brock’s office. At this time of day, most of the staff were either on the gym floor or on the second level, but since the offices had closed tonight for a long five-day weekend, I was sure some had already snuck out. Tucking my hair back behind my right ear, I slipped into his office.

  “Close the door behind you,” he ordered when I stepped in.

  Stomach flipping all over the place, I did as he demanded. “What’s up?”

  Brock hit a few keys on his keyboard and then pushed his chair back from the desk. His gaze drifted over me, and he had this way of looking at you that made you feel like you were stripped bare and completely exposed.

  He didn’t say anything. He just sat in his chair, his position the epitome of arrogant laziness, as he eyed me.

  I stopped by one of the chairs, feeling my cheeks start to warm. “You getting ready to train with the guys?” I asked, noting the nylon pants and Lima shirt. He hadn’t been wearing that the last time I’d seen him.

  “For a bit,” he answered, resting his arms on the chair and clasping his hands together. “But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.”

  “Okay?”

  A mysterious, sexy little half-grin appeared on his lips. “Come here.”

  I hesitated. “I am here.”

  “Closer,” he added, nodding toward his desk.

  My gaze flew to it. Did he want me to sit on the desk? Well, that seemed wildly inappropriate.

  His chin dipped and he waited patiently while I either worked up the nerve to make my way over to him or run out of the office, my face the color of a tomato.

  “I’m not going to bite.” He paused and then added, “Not right away, at least.”

  My lips pursed together and then I glanced over at the door. It was closed. No one would walk right in. No one here would dare barge into the Beast’s office.

  Brock was still waiting on me.

  Calling on every ounce of courage I had, I forced my legs forward. To some, this wasn’t a big deal, but with Brock, I was way out of my element. Hell, with most guys I was way out of my element. The whole time my heart pounded. I walked around the edge of the desk and stopped in front of him. My gaze dipped, and I sucked in a deep breath that went nowhere.

  Brock was hard.

  I could totally see that, because his nylon pants did nothing to hide all that he had going on down there. My gaze flew to his.

  The grin on his face spread. “So, I’ve been thinking about something.”

  “You have?” I asked doubtfully. With that massive of an erection there was probably only one thing he was thinking about.

  “Laid awake most of the night,” he said, tipping his head back. “It’s about something you said to me this weekend.”

  I’d said a lot of things this weekend. Leaning back against his desk, I folded my hands over the smooth edge. “I’m going to need a little more detail.”

  “You said you wanted to start really living. I want to help you do that.”

  My heart turned over heavily in response to his statement. “I’m pretty sure you already did.”

  “Yeah. I did. But that was just one thing. Don’t get me wrong. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Can’t wait to get my mouth between your legs again,” he told me, and my jaw nearly hit the floor. Holy crap, he said that like we were discussing the weather or something. He leaned forward, unclasping his hands. “What have you done since you left me?”

  Left him? Did he really think that I left him? I never thought of that way, but I guess he could. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You went to school for a little while and you’ve worked. I know that. What else have you done?”

  I opened my mouth to tell him, but I came up empty. There was nothing to tell him. Nothing. It was like I was this blank canvas. Nothing on the outside or inside. A knot formed in my throat and my eyes suddenly burned.

  “Hey,” he said quietly, clasping my hips in his large hands. “It’s okay.”

  “Yeah. Of course.” I cleared my throat. “I’m okay.”

  His solemn gaze searched mine. “I’m not asking that question to upset you.”

  “I know.” And I did.

  Brock’s hands tightened. “Do you remember sitting out on your parents’ swing and talking about all the places you wanted to visit?”

  Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded jerkily.

  “Did you see those places?”

  I shook my head no.

  “You still want to see those places?” he asked. “I think I remember some of them. You wanted to see the Pacific Coast Highway and travel ov
erseas. Scotland, right?”

  “Right,” I whispered. My heart was doing back springs and cartwheels.

  “And I think, if I remember correctly, you wanted to take a road trip on the old Route 66? Something about the world’s largest bottle?”

  A soft, shaky laugh shook me. “The world’s largest ketchup bottle.”

  He shook his head. “I still have no idea why you want to see that—”

  “It’s a giant catsup bottle!” I explained. “Who doesn’t want to see that? They even have a festival!”

  The grin was back, the kind of grin that always, always held sway over my heart. “You’re . . . adorable.”

  I thought I might cry.

  There was a good chance.

  “Even though going to a catsup festival isn’t on my list of things to do, I would gladly take you there.” He stated this like it would happen just because he claimed it would. “We have a lot of time to do these things and we’re going to—”

  I moved without thinking.

  My brain just shut right down, and for one of the rare moments in my life, I wasn’t all about thinking and little else.

  Bending at the waist, I cupped the sides of his face, welcoming the prickly tickle against my palms and brought my mouth to his.

  I kissed Brock.

  Kissed him like I’d wanted to at eighteen and kissed him in a way I never would’ve imagined at that age I’d one day be capable of.

  Brock was no submissive recipient. He wouldn’t sit there and let me kiss him. That just wasn’t in his blood. He quickly took over. His hand wrapped around the back of my head and he returned that kiss fiercely. Blood immediately turned to lava in my veins. I broke the kiss, pulling back far enough to see him, and realization slammed into me. Damn it all to hell.

  I was so in love with Brock again.

  “From a little spark may burst a flame.”

  —Dante Alighieri

  Chapter 25

  Oh Christ.

  I really was in love with him, and if I was going to be honest with myself, I’d probably never stopped loving him. Not completely. It was why, that after two months of being back in my life, he could worm his way into my heart, firmly cementing himself there.