I drew in a stuttered breath. Oh my God, we never talked about that time—about those months after his chest wall injury.

“Or let’s talk about how not that long ago you were riding my fingers until you came? Just a boss? Come on, Jilly, you can do better than that.”

“Don’t call me that,” I snapped, thrown off-balance. I struggled to breathe as Brock left what remained of the space between us behind. He towered over me, so close that his right leg brushed against my left one.

“It has nothing to do with me being your boss. Us working together isn’t even a drop in the damn bucket of our life,” he said. “You don’t want to answer the question, because you know there is none.”

“That’s not true,” I swore, and then stiffened as he pried the open wine bottle out of my hand and placed it on the small table beside us. “What are you doing?”

Placing both of his hands against the wall, on either side of me, he leaned in and lowered his head so we were nearly eye to eye. “Tell me one thing that excites you about him.”

“Why?” I whispered, my chest rising and falling sharply as my gaze dipped to his mouth.

“Because I want to know . . .” One of his hands left the wall and curved over my shoulder. I shuddered, and his head tilted to the side. “I want to know why, after what happened between us, you’d actually go out on a date with another man.”

My heart was beating so hard I could feel it in every part of my body. Senses overwhelmed, I had no idea how we’d ended up here, him slipping his hand down my arm, to my hip. I had no idea how his other hand was suddenly on the other side of my waist. All my being zeroed in on the warmth of his hands burning through the thin dress. A sharp ache hit low in my stomach, throbbing and intense.

“Jillian?” he said my name in this soft way that did crazy things to my brain cells, melting them together like they were nothing more than butter.

I wet my lips. “He’s nice. Grady is really nice.”

“Nice?” His hands glided up my sides, and my body reacted without thought. My back arched and my breath hitched as he lowered his mouth to my ear. His breath was hot against my skin as he said, “You don’t want nice. Nice doesn’t excite you.”

My hands found their way to his chest. I pushed at him at the same time my fingers curled into the front of his sweater, holding him in place.