“Tess, babe, eyes,” he growled. “Now.”

My eyes opened and my head came up as I felt a shaft of steel rip down my spine.

My eyes narrowed on his hard face as the electric feel of his mood finally made it through the cocoon of surprise shrouding me and sparked against my skin.

“Oh my God,” I whispered. “Are you angry with me?”

“No,” he bit off. “I was angry with you, seein’ as I fucked my woman for the first fuckin’ time, she made me a promise when my cum was still inside her and then just hours later she reneged on that promise. Now I’m here ’cause there’s a goddamned for-sale sign planted in your front lawn and I walk in here and see you lookin’ like this so, gotta say, babe, I’m not angry. I’m fuckin’ pissed.”

Did he…?

Did he…?

Did he just fucking say what I thought he just fucking said?

“Sorry?” I whispered again, but this whisper was different.

He didn’t repeat himself. Instead he asked, “Where are your glasses?”

“What?”

“Your glasses, Tess. Where the fuck are your glasses? You never decorate a goddamned cake without your glasses.”

“I got contacts,” I snapped.

His head tipped back and he clipped to the ceiling, “Jesus,” before I saw his jaw get hard.

Why in the hell were we talking about my glasses?

I didn’t care. Nope. I didn’t.

I only cared about one thing.

“Get out,” I ordered. His chin tipped down and his eyes locked with mine.

“No.”

I felt my eyebrows go up. “No?”

“Yeah, Tess, no.”

“You have,” I told him. “You have lost your mind.”

He ignored me again and asked, “What the fuck are you wearing?”

“What am I wearing?”

“Yeah, babe, what the fuck are you wearing?”

I looked down at my T-shirt and jeans then I looked back at him.

“T-shirt and jeans…” I hesitated then spat, “Brock.”

“No one calls me Brock. They call me Slim.”

I blinked and something about that took me right out of our current scenario and into la-la land.

Therefore, I breathed, “What?”

He pushed away from the doorjamb while speaking. “No one calls me Brock. Mom, Dad, brother, sisters, friends since I was a kid called me Slim.”

“You’re not slim,” I told him.

Although he was lean, he wasn’t what I’d call slim.

“No, I’m not and I wasn’t when I was a baby, seein’ as I was over ten pounds when I was born. It was a joke ’cause I was a big kid. My family’s screwy that way.”

Whoa. He was over ten pounds when he was born? That was one huge kid.