“I’m sure Grady is a nice, little man,” he went on, and his hands were on the move again, one coasting back down to my hip. The other stayed over my ribs and each swipe of his thumb brought him into contact with the lower swell of my breast. “I don’t have anything against him, but if he excited you, if he brought this very same blush to your cheeks?” His hot mouth coasted over said cheek. The coarse hair of his jaw elicited a sharp gasp from me. “If he excited you, if you were really into him, then I wouldn’t have ruined your date. You’d be with him right now. And I sure as hell wouldn’t know what it felt like for you to come.”

I wasn’t sure that logic worked, but my mind seemed to have checked out, because it was all about the way I felt. A languid heat invaded my bloodstream. The throbbing increased in certain areas of my body. My breasts grew heavy and achy, and those feelings only intensified when I felt his breath on my lips, turning my blood to molten lava.

His lower body leaned into mine, and my breath came into short inhales as I felt him against my belly, thick and hard. Holy crap, there was no denying that, no hiding his reaction. Sharp arousal loosened and tightened my muscles all at once. Our mouths were now lined up perfectly, his lips so close to mine.

I’d never felt anything like this before.

Never.

Brock was going to kiss me, and this time, it would count.

And I wasn’t going to turn my head away.

I was thinking Brock wanted to do a hell of a lot more than kissing.

Realizing that, knowing I would let him kiss me and I would ultimately let him do whatever ever he wanted to me, cleared some of the fog from my thoughts.

What was happening here?

It had only been, what, almost two months since we’d reentered each other’s lives? Two months after years of no contact—years of my life falling apart and his living something like a Forbes success story? He’d even gotten engaged and broken up, and he . . . had broken my heart. But now he was back in my life as my boss, my freaking boss, and I was barely beginning to figure out who I was.

My fingers flattened against his chest. “What . . . what are we doing?”

Brock stilled, and for a moment I wasn’t even sure he was breathing or not. Then he shifted slightly, resting his forehead against mine. “I . . . I really don’t know.”

That bitter mixture of disappointment and relief swelled once more. Swallowing hard, I pushed against his chest even though I wanted to say screw it and climb him like a damn spider monkey.