I could do this.

I could smile for him.

I mean, the guy had seen my vagina all up close and personal, so I really couldn’t be embarrassed over my wonky smile. But I couldn’t help but remember the girl who sat next to me in World History after I returned to school. She’d asked if I had a stroke. The question hadn’t been malicious. She hadn’t blurted it out. It seemed like it had been building in her for weeks to ask. She’d even followed it up by relating to how her grandfather smiled after he suffered a stroke. I also couldn’t help but remember how Ben had never asked me to smile for him.

But Brock wasn’t the girl in my history class and he sure as hell wasn’t Ben, so I did it.

I could feel the right side of my lips curve up while my left side simply twitched and did nothing.

Brock’s gaze swept over my face and settled on my mouth as he slid one hand up, around my neck. His thumb massaged the space just below my pulse.

“I think there’s something you need to understand,” he said, his gaze flicking to mine. “Your smile was beautiful before. Could light up a fucking room and could bring a smile to my face seconds before I stepped into the Octagon. Your smile is different now, but even more beautiful now.”

“Come on,” I said wryly, starting to pull free. My smile didn’t make me an ogre, but it wasn’t beautiful.

“It’s true.” He kept me in place with just a hand at my neck. “You know why? It proves what you’ve been through and what you’ve survived. That smile is a fucking miracle. Just like every breath you take is. That smile is nothing to ever be ashamed of. It’s a smile to be fucking proud of.”

Oh wow.

That was more than sweet. That was a beautiful thing for him to say.

“You feel me?” he asked.

“I feel you,” I whispered back.

“Good.”

Lowering my gaze, I didn’t stop the smile that now tugged at my lips. I let it happen as I willed the knot in my throat to disappear. I cleared my throat. “First the doughnuts and now the whole beautiful smile thing? Are you trying to get laid?”

His richly colored eyes glimmered with amusement and something more, something lavish and promising. “Is it working?”

A laugh escaped me, and I shook my head. Rising up on the tips of my toes, I kissed him. His arm swept around my waist, holding me in place as the kiss deepened and consumed me. A wonderful heady warmth slid down my throat and over my chest.

Brock lifted his head, putting a little distance between us. “Yeah, we’re going to have to stop.”

“Why?” I asked, breathless.