But the difference was I resisted letting myself get wrapped up in the way I thought I’d catch him looking at me. I didn’t fixate on how it seemed like his hand brushed mine whenever we walked to the conference room together. I refused to pay attention to how his fingers grazed mine and lingered when he’d hand me my coffee or whatever treat he’d brought me. Those moments were often.

What I hated about those moments was the fact that the simplest touch from him could elicit a heady and nearly overwhelming reaction from me. My body instantly took notice and flushed. An achy heaviness would fill my breasts and, and I would be left wanting . . . wanting so much, because something inside me was opening, an awakening, rising and searching.

Needless to say, the old trusty “magic wand” was getting a workout.

Several times over the course of the last couple of weeks, I’d find that whatever sleep I could get was fitful, either full of nightmares or I was too restless to sleep at all. I would think of the way a certain set of arms had felt around me, how strong they were and how hard the chest was under my cheek, and those thoughts would give way to fantasies.

Fantasies I tried to keep faceless. Fantasies where I imagined my fingers or the toy were replaced by a real hand or mouth. Fantasies where I pictured myself against a wall, flat on my back, on my belly in the bed, or bent over slightly, grasping the counter . . . or a polished, cherry-wood desk.

I’d give in, slipping my hand or the wand below the covers. I’d try to keep my mind empty as the acute throbbing would begin and this invisible cord inside me would spin tight, but it never failed. Just before release pounded through me, just as the cord unraveled, pulling all the muscles in my legs taut, I would see dark brown eyes and full, knowing lips.

I’d come seeing Brock’s face.

And each time afterward, with my heart rate slowing, I wanted to smack myself upside the head. Picturing him while doing that to myself seemed wrong.

Yet it felt incredibly good.

Even though I didn’t want it to, it always felt beyond amazing.

* * *

The Wednesday before Avery and crew were coming to the Academy, I learned from a quick call with her that the guys wanted to try out a new bar in Shepherdstown that also served dinner, and I was obnoxiously nervous about this.

I tried to hide it, because it was so stupid.