“A really, really long time,” I repeated, squirming slightly. “It’s been years since I . . . since I’ve even been kissed, let alone anything more than that.”

Those dark brown eyes nearly turned black.

“I feel like I’m practically a born-again virgin,” I said, forcing out a laugh.

“Fuck,” he growled. “That just makes me want to do it so much more. You have no idea.”

My hands spasmed against his chest, clutching his thermal as my heart worked overtime.

“Let me do this for you.” Brock’s dark eyes glinted with bright desire. “Let me make you come, Jillian. Please, let me help you start really living.”

I lost my breath as I shuddered again. How could I refuse that? For real. I was aching for him in a way I had never felt before. My body wanted him. My heart and soul did. There was no reason to refuse this. Nothing but shadowy doubt and deeply rooted insecurities.

Living is all about taking risks.

Yes. Living was taking risks. Living was putting yourself out there, sometimes jumping without looking, but I had a safety net. Brock would catch me. I didn’t doubt that.

“Okay,” I whispered, feeling like I’d agreed to go skydiving.

He pressed his lips to my forehead. “Thank fucking God.”

I giggled. He was really excited about going down on me. The humor slowly evaporated, because his mouth claimed mine once more, and it was hot and deep. His tongue slipped over mine and flicked the roof of my mouth. He kissed me until my head was spinning and I was melting in his arms. Then he moved, his lips coasting over my chin and over the side of my jaw that had literally been pieced back together. I started to stiffen, but I felt the tip of his tongue trace the line.

My fingers were going to rip right through his shirt as his mouth traveled down the side of my neck, blazing a trail of hot kisses. He nipped and licked as the hand on my thigh moved to my breast. The tips hardened, and I wanted more, wanted to be bare, but then he was moving again.

His hands dropped to my hips and he lifted me up, startling me with his strength. I was no small chick by any means, but he moved me around like I weighed nothing.

My back was on the floor before I knew it, wedged between the bed and surrounded by half built bookcases. He caged me in and I stared up at him with wide eyes, my pulse racing.

“I’ve wanted to do this for . . .” His hands dragged down my stomach, over the thin sweater I wore. He pushed up the material, exposing my lower stomach. “Hell . . .”

Emboldened by his stare, I wet my dry lips and asked, “How long have you wanted this?”