Page 16 of Iowa Intellect
I clear my suddenly parched throat before saying, “You’re having a physiological reaction to our close proximity and kissing. It would likely happen with anyone that you didn’t find to be completely repulsive. Don’t worry… I know that it doesn’t mean anything real.”
“How about this? Does this mean something real?” His voice sounds desperate as he lifts my hand to press it against his chest. His heart is beating wildly as if it is trying to thump its way right out of his body.
“Yes, it means that you are a virile, hot-blooded male who is attracted to the opposite sex. I’m sure your body would have the same reaction with anyone that turns you on in even the slightest capacity.”
His exasperated huff lets me know that he is irritated with me. I don’t mean to be annoying, but my no-nonsense, practical side won’t allow me to pretend that I believe he truly wants me––despite how much I’d love to get lost in that wonderful delusion, even if it only lasted for one night.
He runs his fingers through his hair, then rubs his hand along the back of his neck. In a somber tone, he says, “I don’t know what to do to make you understand. I care about you so much, but I don’t want to ruin our friendship or any potential for a long-term, romantic relationship by having sex too soon.”
I scoff at this lame excuse. Although I appreciate him trying to spare my feelings, I find it impossible to believe that the true reason for his refusal of my proposition has anything to do with fear over losing me as a friend or future lover. I may not have much experience with men, but I know enough to realize this isn’t how they operate. Besides, it’s not like Brock and I are besties.
Deciding to call his bluff, I lift my chin and ask, “So, when will you be ready?”
“Ready to have sex with you?” His tone is elevated as if I have completely caught him off guard.
“That’s right. If your refusal is just a matter of not wanting to have sex too soon, when will we have waited long enough to appease your worries?” My cheeks heat even as I ask the brazen question, but I refuse to back down.
Some obnoxiously stubborn side of me wants to force him to admit that he doesn’t want to be with me, so that I don’t glom on to the hope that we might someday become a couple. It’s much easier to be confronted with the hurtful truth now than to be devastated by a crushing blow later.
Brock seems to be at an uncharacteristic loss for words as he opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water.
Taking his silence as my truth, I say in a flat tone, “That’s what I thought.”
I turn to the side so he won’t see me trying to blink back the tears.
“Well, you thought wrong. I’m done trying to be a nice guy. If you want me even half as much as I want you, then it’s high time for us to see this through,” he growls before stepping forward and dominating my space.
My rear end bumps against the wall as I take an involuntary step backwards. His presence is nearly overwhelming. All of the oxygen seems to disappear from the room as he cages me within his strong arms. The logical side of my brain tells me that I should be frightened by his overbearing demeanor, but my heart and the rest of my body demand that I seize this opportunity.
When I tip my face up to his, he doesn’t hesitate in the slightest. He crushes his lips to mine, lifts me into his arms, and presses me into the wall. I’ve never experienced so many wonderful sensations all at once. My already heated skin is set ablaze, and I don’t ever want it to end.
The last shred of his control is unleashed when I moan into his mouth, wrap my legs around his thick torso, and melt into him. My mind musters one final rational thought that I’m finally getting to find out what all of the fuss is about regarding sex. But that realization floats away almost as quickly as it arose as our bodies strain against each other, and I become completely lost in Brock.
17
BROCK
I’d truly had good intentions, but I can only take so much of this absolute torture. Having this impossibly beautiful, desirable woman practically throw herself at me is more than I can handle. My last bit of self-control slips away as I press into her, savoring her lusciously soft curves and surrendering to this all-consuming need.
When she wraps her limbs tightly around my torso, it doesn’t take me more than a moment to realize that I am hers. She could ask me to do anything, and I wouldn’t hesitate. It’s a giddy, unfamiliar, and terrifying feeling to belong so completely to another.
Surprisingly, I have no desire to try to contain my insanely strong feelings for Caroline. It’s a good thing I’m okay with it because I’d be powerless to stop this out-of-control freight train of primal need and overwhelming passion.
When my fingers lightly skim up the smooth skin along her side, she doesn’t even try to suppress the shiver of delight that tingles down her spine. I palm the warm weight of her breast, confirming what I already suspected––that she is bare beneath the thin fabric of her shirt.
Our eyes meet as my thumb strokes her nipple. The liquid warmth in her gaze lets me know that she is sharing something precious with me that few, if any, others have been gifted. The knowledge that I mean this much to her flutters in my stomach.
Need streaks through me as she rubs her front against me. My voice is gravelly when I say, “I’m not going to be able to take this slow if you don’t stop that.”
She pulls back to gaze into my eyes. It’s clear from her confused expression that she isn’t sure if she has done something wrong. Hoping to erase that concern for good, I clarify, “You feel so good, I’m on the verge of losing myself to you.”
The look of relief on her face lets me know that I was right to share the truth with her, even though she rips away what little self-restraint I had left by murmuring near my ear, “Let’s lose ourselves in each other.”
I’m already carrying her to the bed when I agree, “That’s the best damn suggestion I think I’ve ever heard.”
She scrambles out of her clothes. I do the same, despite having to pause frequently to simply gaze at her. When she catches me gawking, I whisper the word, “Beautiful.”
She looks away, but not before I see the smile tipping up the corners of her lips. In a voice almost too quiet to be heard, she says, “You’re the beautiful one.”
