Then he was gone, walking out of my apartment and closing the door behind him, and I was left standing in the center of my living room, my lips tingling from his kiss and my body a riot of unfulfilled desires.

Go after him.

I started to but stopped, because I . . . I was scared. Truly terrified by what was happening, because I had lived for so long no longer hoping Brock would wake up interested in me, and now he was. On what level and how deep, I had no idea. I wasn’t sure even he knew, but I wanted him—wanted him more than I ever wanted anyone, because I’d always wanted him and he had never wanted me.

Until now.

And what terrified me was the knowledge that if I fell for him again, I would fall deep, and I’d never recover. If I loved him again, I’d be lost forever.

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Sleep had not come easily Saturday night. Not with my body wishing it was still pinned between Brock’s hard body and the wall. My mind would not shut down.

It was close to three in the morning when I finally found a few hours of sleep, and then I rose at the butt-crack of dawn, disturbing a disgruntled Rhage. I let the coffee percolate as I showered, leaving my hair to air dry while I grabbed a can of a fancy food for him since I felt bad for waking him early.

Rhage appeared to accept my offer of apology by shoving his entire whiskered face into the bowl. Cringing, I watched him, knowing he was going to smell like fake fish or whatever was in that food.

Taking my cup of coffee with me, I curled up against the arm of the couch, trying not to think about Brock holding me in his lap last night as I picked up my phone. It was early, but I knew my mom would be up.

She answered on the second ring and immediately assumed the sky was falling. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” That wasn’t necessarily a lie. “I know it’s early, but I . . . I talked to Brock last night.”

There was a beat of silence as I sipped my coffee, and then she said, “Well, hon, I assume you talk to him quite frequently now.”

Lowering my mug, I rolled my eyes at her blatant obtuseness. “Mom, he told me you’ve been telling him everything about me over the last couple of years.”

“I haven’t been telling him everything,” she responded blithely. “That’s an exaggeration.”

“Is that really all you have to say?” Needing more caffeine to deal with this conversation, I took another drink. “Why didn’t you say anything? He said he told you not to, but Mom, come on.”

“I didn’t think it was wise to tell you that he was asking about you,” she replied.