“You taste so sweet,” he growls, nipping at my lip as his hands find their way back to my cheeks. The sticky air stirs with the sound of our heavy breathing as he pulls me closer, tighter against his chest. He licks into my mouth, his kiss reverent, skillful, one I’m sure will hold its weight against future contenders. “So fucking sweet.”
“You don’t taste too bad yourself,” I purr, twining my fingers through his hair.
He smiles against my mouth. “Do I taste better than . . . Twizzlers?”
“Now you’re pushing it, buddy,” I playfully warn. Brock chuckles as I move my lips to his jaw, teasing my tongue over his stubble. “And I want to keep tasting you, but you still haven’t answered my question.”
“What question?” he probes, dusting additional mind-fucking kisses along my neck as he settles his hands on my waist and squeezes. “Seeing that I’m preoccupied with something insanely delicious right now, something I plan on repeating as often as possible, I don’t recall you asking a question.”
I shiver, close to trembling in the midday heat. God, this feels so good. He feels so good.
“Hailey,” I remind him, smiling angelically. “You two had something?”
He rests his head on the pier, a shadow of aggravation passing over his face. “You sure know how to kill a mood, eh?”
“That’s not fair.” I frown. “I asked the question before we wound up in this position.”
With a grin, one I’m sure he’s wearing in an attempt to distract me, he cups my cheeks. “We barely had something.”
“Define ‘barely,’ because nothing about the way she acted made it seem like you two were a ‘barely’ kind of thing.”
Grin holding steady, he fishes his iPhone from his pocket and taps on it. After a second, his eyes light up with mischief. “Barely. It says here that it’s an adverb. It also says ‘hardly’ or ‘scarcely.’ People use it to say that someone or something only has a specified small size, age, length, etc.” He draws up a brow. “Just to make things very, very clear, I’m small in neither size, girth, nor length. At. All.”
Giggling, I yank the phone from him. “Did you seriously just look up the definition?” I glance down at his phone. Yep. The wiseass looked it up.
A megawatt smile twists his mouth. “You said ‘define barely,’ no?”
I set his phone on the pier, and with a mock scowl, it’s me who cups his cheeks. “Yes, I did, but I’m being serious, Brock. She was . . . weird about you. I’m gonna ask the questions, and you’re not allowed to do anything but answer. Got it?”
With a wink, he salutes me. “Yes, Miss Ber.”
I roll my eyes, knowing I better get used to his formal nickname. “How long did you two date?”
“We never dated,” he whispers, leaning up and slowly kissing my lips.
I pull back to look him in his eyes, mine narrowed. “You’re trying to seduce me.”
“Is it working?” He drags his lips to the hollow of my neck, letting them linger there. “Because if not, I can do better.”
It is working, my body screaming to pull down my shorts, yank his off, and take a long test-drive on what he claims isn’t small in size, girth, or length. However, I’m not about to let him know my thoughts, so I do what’s necessary to get the answers I seek.
I give him a proper mash to his forehead with my palm, an innocent shrug following suit.
With eyes as wide as balloons, he laughs. “Holy shit of all fucking shits. I’m making you mine. You know this, right?”
“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”
He grins, tightening his hold around my waist.
“Now you say you never dated, so you two just . . . fucked?” I ask.
“Mm. Blunt. This here Southern boy likes.” He nods, his lips twitching in amusement. “Correct. We fucked. She was a classic booty call. The I’m drunk and feel like getting laid hookup. The mutual this-is-going-nowhere fling.”
“Mm-hmm,” I hum, eyeing him suspiciously. “So I’m assuming that’s why you don’t care that Ryder’s hitting that now?”
It’s his turn to shrug. “Ryder can do what he wants. I’m completely cool with him tapping my seconds. Sharing is caring. And besides, what are friends for, right?”
“Mm-hmm,” I hum again, watching him carefully. There’s a gleam in those green eyes that I can’t quite decipher, something that’s telling me there’s more behind his statement.
Brock leans up and brushes his mouth against mine. “Do you have any more questions for me?” He snags my lower lip between his teeth, gently sucking. “Or am I still under interrogation?”
“You’re still under interrogation,” I confirm, trying to catch my breath, the ache between my legs threatening to explode as he threads his hands through my hair.
“Well, there’s no denying you’re a sexy detective.” He smirks. “Continue on, my little vixen.”
“You have secrets.” I lift my face away from his, going with my intuition. “And I think they’re the kind that can hurt me.”
“We all have secrets,” he whispers, bringing my lips back down to his.
He stares at me long and hard before kissing me deep, each stroke of his tongue unraveling everything I’ve ever known myself to be. Without breaking the rhythm of our kiss, Brock cocoons me in his embrace, gently rolling me onto my back.