“I thought that was your name,” I defended and his hand and arm gave me a squeeze.

“I know that but when I’m inside you, I wanna hear you say my name. That was between us then, for me. And now that’s gone. I wanna clear the path of what might be between us for you. Can you get that?”

That was when my mouth suddenly formed the words “Who’s Darla?”

The heavy warmth of his mood disappeared in an instant and the static came back.

“What the fuck?” he asked softly.

“Who’s Darla?” I repeated.

His eyes narrowed and his jaw turned to stone before he clipped out, “Who told you about Darla?”

I stared at him and I decided that what I saw I did not like.

Then I whispered, “Right,” and started pushing again.

This didn’t go well for me mainly because he let me go with one arm only to lean us both to the side to put his beer on the table. He whipped me around so I was on my back in my couch and he was not only on top of me but also his hips were between mine.

Our last position wasn’t conducive to us having an intense chat about the future of our relationship in a way where he couldn’t boggle my mind with his hotness, sexiness, and outspoken honesty but this one was way worse.

“I’ll ask again, Tess,” he growled. “Who told you about Darla? Was it Elvira?”

“Um…” I mumbled. His eyes narrowed so I rushed on. “She was at the shower with her girls and one of those girls was a lady called Gwen. Gwen told me.”

His neck bent back so his eyes could look over my head and he snarled, “Fuck.”

“Brock—” I started and his eyes sliced back to me.

“Who Darla is, is not you,” he bit out.

“But—”

“No, Tess, she is not you. I told you earlier I liked my job for the four months it meant me bein’ with you. Suffice it to say, I did not at all like my job when the only play I had to make was bein’ with her.”

“You’re hot,” I said softly.

“What?” he clipped roughly.

“You’re hot,” I repeated. “I can see them sending you in when they—”