Turning to face him, I watched him strip off the loose sweater he wore, tossing it onto a chair in the corner. The plain white shirt came off next, and then there was his beautiful upper body, all on display.

My mouth dried as my gaze dipped, taking in those taut ripples and those amazing indentations on either side of his hips.

Why, with a body like his, was he interested in a body like mine?

That was a question no one would ever be able to answer.

He wore no belt so those pants hung indecently low, so low I realized I could see the band of his tight boxer briefs. My gaze moved over the tattoos. He had a wolf’s head over one pec. The other side of his chest was the start of spreading wings that traveled over his shoulder and flowed into numerous designs that traveled down his entire arm. An archangel raising his sword, surrounded by flames. Underneath that, across his forearm, a skull. Red and black bands gave way to an eye above his wrist. He turned slightly, pulling his phone out of his pocket and placing it on the nightstand. I saw the edges of the phoenix rising from ashes and fire. The tattoo was huge, covering his upper and middle back.

I wondered if he’d get more.

“You like what you see?”

Flushing, I dragged my gaze back to his. “Do you really have to ask that question?”

One side of his lips kicked up and my gaze dipped once more, snagging on the silver chain around his neck. I started to look away, back to those amazing lower abs, but I saw what dangled from his neck.

My breath halted in my lungs.

My heart stopped.

My lips parted on a sharp inhale as my hand flew to my mouth, my fingers pressing against my lips.

Concern flitted across Brock’s striking features. “Jillian, you okay?”

I couldn’t speak as I stared at the tiny medallion hanging from his neck, and I felt dizzy, like I would fall right over. I recognized that necklace even though I hadn’t seen it in six years.

“Jillian?” He strode toward me. “What is—?”

“The necklace.” I let out a shaky breath. “You have the necklace.”

For a moment, he looked confused as he lifted his hand and placed his palm over the medallion. Understanding settled. “You didn’t know?”

“No,” I whispered, blinking back sudden tears.

“I found it that night,” he said after a moment. “After they took you away in the ambulance. Everything was hectic. Colton had you on your side, trying to keep the blood . . . keep you breathing until the EMTs got there, and then they did, and you were gone. I saw your purse on the ground, and I was thinking . . . I was thinking how you would have hated to know your purse was there, getting dirty and shit.”

Oh God.