Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC #2)(94)

Gwen sighed. “That’s the thing. Even with all of this I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

Neither would I.

“Are we going to get to sleep in a room that hasn’t seen more traffic than Grand Central station tomorrow night?” I asked Brock sweetly as I rubbed moisturizer on my hands.

He shrugged his cut off and placed his knife and gun on the desk across from his bed. “Can’t say for sure, babe, but the prospect is looking likely,” he replied, undressing.

I looked around his room. It was messy like the last time I had been in it, but this time I was a verified ‘old lady”. It felt different. I also felt vaguely sick thinking of the other women who had shared this bed after me.

“Sparky?” a soft voice asked.

I jerked back to reality and looked into Brock’s eyes. “How many?” I asked.

Brock looked confused. “How many what, babe?”

“Girls,” I said quietly. “I know I have no right to ask and I’m not going to claw your face off when you tell me the truth. I just need to know.” I hated myself for asking this. It was like emotional self-flagellation, but the unknown was worse.

Brock sighed and ran his hand through his hair before directing his gaze back at me. “You want the truth?”

I nodded, even though the sensible Amy shook her head internally.

“Those first few weeks, before I got a taste of you, before I knew what it felt like to be inside you, I tried to f*ck you out of my system. Not gonna lie, babe, there were girls. But every time I sunk into some bitch all I could see was red hair and the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.” He stroked my face. “After I got in there—” He slipped his hand to cup me between my legs. I felt myself get turned on, despite the subject matter. “After I felt what it was to be inside you I was f*ckin’ ruined, Sparky. All the shit we went through—sometimes I f*ckin’ wished I could forget about you, go back to mindless f*cking.” His eyes met mine, blazing. “I couldn’t. You had me under your spell, baby. For months I didn’t get to touch you, get to slip into your heat. I thought I’d f*ckin’ die from blue balls.” He smirked slightly. My breathing got heavier as his hand worked between my legs. “I tried to forget long enough to f*ck some sweet butt. I swear my dick shriveled up the moment I touched them,” he murmured.

My shoulders sagged.

We were silent for a moment. I didn’t miss the fact he didn’t ask about Ian, about if I slept with him. Guilt washed through me.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered brokenly.

He looked surprised. “For cluttering my dresser with perfume and shit? I don’t care, babe. Fuck, I like it,” he teased with a smile.

I paused then shook my head. “For everything. For pushing you away when we first met, for not letting you in…then for completely blocking you out after Ian died.”

“Babe—” Brock stroked my cheek.

“Let me finish,” I cut in. “I was f*cked up. Not only from Ian but from the train wreck that is my family. I’d never seen love, never received it, apart from Garrett. My family never showed it nor gave it. My father was never purposely cold, just indifferent. He was fond of me, but never actually let on he loved me. My mother was openly hostile. I couldn’t figure out why. So I steered away from love, or more the rejection I would feel from not getting it—the rejection that I lived with for eighteen years.”

“Your mother makes me want to seriously reconsider my stance on hitting women,” he muttered.

I smiled dimly. “Yeah, well, I’m hoping karma kicks her ass when her next surgery gets botched,” I said dryly. “Anyway,” I continued, “when I met Ian I let myself love him and he broke my heart. He did it because he was trying to protect me but it was rejection in my eyes.”

Brock had stiffened and was listening intently.

“So when I came here I was already bitter and I definitely didn’t want love. I wanted sex. Hot sex with a guy that didn’t treat me like fine china.” I smiled at Brock. “I met you and got everything I wanted and everything I didn’t. I fell for you. I was so angry at myself for letting it happen and angry at you that I tried to keep away, but I couldn’t so I acted like a bitch in the hopes you’d decide you didn’t want me.”

“Nothing you could do or say could make me not want you, babe,” he declared fiercely.

“Yeah, I get that now. I was starting to get it then when Ian arrived. And it stirred everything up, especially when Gwen found out and expected me to marry him. So did Ian. I didn’t know how to tell either of them the only thing that came of his visit was that I knew I wanted you. I didn’t want a freaking love triangle but I didn’t know how to get myself out of it.” I took a breath. “When he died I was too focused on taking care of my best friend and getting her home. I didn’t stop to think about me. About you.” I placed my hand over the one he had on my cheek.

“I felt guilty, so when I came back I didn’t know what to do with my feelings. I kept you away. Acted like an idiot for almost a year.” I met his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Brock’s stare was level, as if he was calculating my words and his response. “Babe, this is not all on you. The start of this…it was f*cked. I knew I wanted you for more than just sex but I don’t think either of us was ready. I let you keep me at arms’ length. Then Gwen’s brother rocked up and there was obviously something between you. I was pissed. Pissed you let him in. Pissed he could take you away from me. Cause he was everything I wasn’t. He was a hero—he didn’t kill drug dealers and run guns. He could give you a life I couldn’t.”