Not needing to be told twice, I did just that, and it seemed impossible, but he went deeper. “You’re killing me.”

“Not yet.”

And then he did.

Brock drove into me over and over, stopping to grind against me, and each time he did, he hit that spot. My head rolled from side to side as the knot of tension tightened and tightened, and then I broke. Release whipped through me, stealing my breath and my voice. I couldn’t even say his name. I was thrown up to the heavens and he followed, his head burying into my neck as his body shuddered in a powerful rush.

It took a while before the storm passed, before he lifted his head and kissed the side of my neck, before he peeled his fingers from my wrists, and before he said, “Now I could really go for a slice of that pumpkin pie.”

Laughing, I turned my head to his and kissed him. “With whipped cream?”

He stilled and then pushed up on his elbow. “You have whipped cream?”

“Of course,” I murmured.

“Do not move. Not even an inch.” He eased out of me and then rolled off the bed, popping to his feet. He was gone only a few minutes and when he returned, he had the pie and the Cool Whip.

The Cool Whip didn’t go on the pie, though.

Brock spent the night proving there were much, much better uses for it.

Chapter 31

Chapter 31

My office phone rang early Thursday morning.

I’d just finished scanning the news headlines, not prepared for anything that required critical thinking skills until I finished my first work cup of coffee.

Seeing that it was an outside call from the Academy in Philly, I figured it was either my dad or Brock.

“Hello?”

“Hey, hon.” It was Dad. “I got you on speaker. Brock’s here.”

“Miss me?” That was Brock.

I rolled my eyes as my cheeks turned pink. This whole relationship thing all open in front of my parents made me want to giggle like I was thirteen. “Not particularly,” I responded, grinning.

“Ouch,” he replied, laughing. “We’re going to have to see about that when I get home.”

My eyes widened. Did he just suggest what I think he suggested in front of my dad? I wanted to crawl under the desk, but I was also locked in place, because I could almost feel his hands around my wrists, pinning me in place as he . . .

Goodness.

I placed my forehead in my hand and cleared my throat, deciding to ignore him. “So, what’s going on?”

“We thought we’d call you with some news,” my father said.