My eyes searched his. “Did you . . . did you miss me this whole time?” I drew in a shallow breath. “I missed you.”

Brock’s gaze held mine. “Missed you every fucking day, Jillian, with every ounce of who I am.”

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

I awoke to a dream.

That was the only explanation to why I was nestled up against a warm, male body—a body that I instinctively knew was Brock. It was his hand that was under the back of my top, flat against my lower back. It was his chest that my cheek was resting against, and his thick leg that was cradled under mine.

I awoke to a fire.

My body was overheated and lava had replaced the blood in my veins. The slow, sluggish pulse picked up, and my hips shifted, pressing the most intimate part of me against him. The friction was nearly immediate, like it was when I touched myself and thought of him. I moved against him, seeking release as my fingers curled into the material of his shirt.

I’d been dreaming of him—of his large body moving over mine and then in me, kissing and nipping at my naked flesh. The dream felt like now, and in the fog clouding my thoughts, I couldn’t make sense of what was then and what was now.

But now he tensed against me, his hand spasming against my back. “Jillian?”

His voice . . . it sounded so real that I moaned and I lifted my upper body. There was a flash of his face and then I was moving my hand from his chest to the rough line of his jaw. I kissed him—I kissed him as I rocked against him, seeking and searching.

The arm around my waist tightened and then he was kissing me back—hard and wet, and there was nothing artful or slow about it. Our teeth gnashed together. Our tongues tangled, and this—it’s not a dream, not a dream—didn’t feel real.

His mouth moved over mine as I twisted my hips against his leg. The tension was coiling into a knot, but it wasn’t enough, this wasn’t enough. I whimpered into his mouth, my movements becoming more frantic.

Brock seemed to know what I needed.

“I got you.” He pulled back, speaking in that deep, husky voice.

In a flurry of movement, he reached between us as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin under my ear, his nimble fingers catching the button on my pants, unhooking it. He worked the zipper down, loosening them. Not a dream. Not a dream. I was out of breath and my heart was pounding all over the place as his large, hot hand slipped into the opening of my pants and under the band of my panties.