Wild Man (Dream Man #2)(19)

He grabbed my hand and pulled me to the sofa.

Then he sat.

Then he did what he used to do. That was, tug me down so I was sitting astride him.

Brock liked to talk like this and I couldn’t say I hated it. In fact, I liked it. There was an intimacy to it that was nice, a connection that felt good and, I had to admit, it was comfy.

And as I said, he was touchy. I always thought it was a little weird, but in a good way, that this tough, rough, wild man liked closeness so much and so often. I thought it said a lot about him and all of it was good.

Now I wasn’t so sure.

He took a drag off his beer, his silver eyes not leaving my face.

When he dropped his hand, both came to rest on my thighs but the one not holding a beer was open, moving slowly and soothingly up to my hip and down my thigh and back again (something else he used to do, something else I used to like and now something I still liked) and he remarked, “I see my sweet Tess has spent some time gettin’ her head filled with shit.”

Hmm. I didn’t know if he was right or wrong about that.

“Brock,” I whispered but said no more.

This obviously was okay for Brock was in the mood to talk.

“Lot about women I do not get. The biggest is that they listen to each other’s shit. No one knows what goes down between a woman and her man except that woman. Only thing they know is what went down with their own men. This colors what spews outta their mouths when they’re yammerin’ about their friends’ men even when what they’re sayin’ has got f**k all to do with the situation at hand.”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” I replied. “Martha is my closest friend and I know she has my best interests at heart.”

“She know you when you married Heller?” he asked and I nodded. “Your girl had your best interests at heart, babe, she woulda tackled you when you were walking down the aisle.”

“She did her best,” I shared then kept sharing. “She told me she was a bridesmaid under protest. She always hated Damian.”

“How’s she feel about me?” he asked a question I knew he knew the answer to because Martha had been around him on several occasions and she was not one of those girlfriends who pretended to like their girlfriend’s boyfriend when she didn’t like him. She was one of those girlfriends who stared at the men in their friends’ lives balefully, made catty comments under her breath that were meant to be heard and pounced on any possible failing the man had, lighting it up like a beacon.

Damian had hated her nearly as much as she hated him.

And since Brock didn’t miss much and he’d been around her on more than one occasion, including just now, I figured he didn’t miss this so I didn’t answer.

He knew why I wasn’t answering, apparently took no offense and went on. “How long have you known her?”

“Since fifth grade.”

“She doesn’t wear a wedding band.”

“She’s never been married,” I admitted.

“She’s your age and never been married, clearly a winner when lookin’ for man advice.”

“Brock,” I whispered again and suddenly his hand snaked up, caught me behind the neck and pulled me down so my face was close to his.

“You know what’s goin’ down with you and me. You know what you feel when I kiss you.

You know what you feel when you sit with me like you’re sittin’ right now. You know what you felt when you were watchin’ me move inside you after I made you come. And you know how you felt in your f**kin’ kitchen six f**kin’ hours ago. She does not know any of that shit.”

“I haven’t been exactly good at picking men,” I pointed out then instantly wished I hadn’t.

In fact, I wished I had the power to grab my words and shove them back in my mouth when his hand got tight at my neck, his eyes got hard and glittering and the extreme voltage of his anger started snapping in the room.

“I am not Heller,” he growled.

“I know,” I whispered, my hands moving to rest on his chest.

His eyes seared into mine, his were molten and not in a good way.

“Okay,” I said softly. “You’re not Damian but right now, I have to admit, you’re freaking me out.”

“Yeah?” he shot back. “Well you just linked me to a man who supplied Denver for years with shit that f**ked a lot of people’s lives and the lives those people’s shit f**ked in turn and who also took his hands to and raped my woman. Sorry I’m freakin’ you out, babe, but you gotta get that doesn’t make me too happy.”

God, for years, no one knew about what happened to me and now…

Now it was right in my face and it was Brock who kept putting it there.

I closed my eyes and twisted my head away.

Brock kept speaking.

“I know why you aren’t lookin’ at me, Tess, but that shit happened to you. You gotta face it and, for this shit to work between us, one of the people you gotta face it with is me,” he declared, I opened my eyes and turned them back to him.

“So, you’re a law enforcement officer and Denver’s resident sage on how to deal with being raped? Is this what I’m learning about you now?” I asked sarcastically, finding myself no longer hesitant, cautious and unsure but totally pissed off.