Chapter 22
CHAPTER 22
H is words hit something so deep inside Deb that it shattered the last wall she’d been holding up.
She didn’t just tear up—her hand flew to her mouth as a sob ripped out of her throat. And then another. Until they just kept coming, wave after wave of uncontrollable emotion.
To think that after everything she had just confessed—after what she’d said about Janna and her babies, about how her mistakes had nearly exposed an entire community—he would still trust her. Not just with anything… but with Ben . His nephew . A child. The most innocent and precious thing left in Tammy’s broken world.
Her knees buckled, but Brock’s strong arms kept her from going down. He gripped her chin, lifting her face to his. “Whatever happens, we have each other, Deb. Never again will you have to face anything alone. I will never deceive you.” Brock stared into her eyes, and she saw the truth behind his golden stare. “You are mine, and I am yours.”
“Is this real?” Deb whispered, her voice trembling as she searched his face, needing to see the truth in his eyes. Rain slicked her hair to her face, soaking her to the skin, but she didn’t care. “Are you real?”
Brock didn’t answer with words.
Instead, he cupped her face in his large, calloused hand—so gentle it made her breath hitch. His eyes locked on hers, intense and unyielding, and then he pulled her to him like he couldn’t stand another second without touching her.
His mouth crushed down on hers, hot and demanding, and Deb melted into the kiss with a gasp. It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was desperate, full of fire and promise, and years of pain and hope crashing together all at once. His other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her tighter against him as if he needed her under his skin.
She clutched at him, fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders, his soaked skin hot beneath her hands despite the cold rain pelting down around them. Their kiss deepened, breath mingling, tongues tangling, and when he finally pulled back, they were both panting.
“Do you feel that?” he growled, his forehead pressed to hers. “That’s real. We are real.”
Before she could say a word, he swept her off her feet—literally. With one arm under her knees and the other wrapped securely around her back, Brock lifted her effortlessly into his arms.
“Brock—” she started to protest, but he silenced her with another kiss, this one softer but no less intense.
“You’ve run enough tonight,” he murmured against her lips. “Let me carry you now.”
She couldn’t fight the way her heart surged, and she didn’t want to.
As thunder cracked above and the rain came down in sheets, Brock carried her through the storm like she weighed nothing. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and for the first time in a long time, Deb let herself surrender—to the warmth of his body, the safety of his hold, and the terrifying, exhilarating feeling that maybe, just maybe, she was finally where she belonged.
He didn’t stop until they reached the porch. Then, without hesitation, he carried her inside and kicked the door closed behind him. He gently set her down, his eyes roaming over her.
“You are beautiful.” He whispered, his eyes taking her in, then he frowned. “Where is your other shoe?”
“I’m a wet mess.” She glanced down at herself. “And it’s somewhere between here and where you found me. I stepped on something sharp.”
Brock swooped her up, carried her to the couch, and sat her down gently. Kneeling, he peeled off her sock slowly and frowned. “Why in the hell didn’t you tell me.” He lifted her foot, looking closely. “Are you in pain?”
“A little?” She said, and she couldn’t keep the pleased smile off her face. Brock looked up at her.
“What?” He was still frowning as he held her sore foot.
“I’ve just never had anyone care for me,” Deb said, then shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed after exposing that truth. “It’s nice.”
“Yeah, well, get used to it.” He said, setting her foot down carefully. He slowly ran his hand up her calf.
Her eyes followed his every movement, mesmerized. There was something undeniably sexy about a man’s hands—especially his. Big, strong, and a little rough. Hands that could build, fight, protect… or worship.
Brock’s touch slid down her bare leg, slow and warm, and goosebumps rose on her skin—not from cold, but from the thrill of anticipation.
“Are you cold?” he asked, concern tugging at his brow as he knelt before her, still rubbing her calf gently. Still, she trembled. “You’re shaking.”
“I know.” Her breath caught as his hands drifted higher. “But it’s not from the cold.”
Something changed in his expression. Heat sparked behind his eyes, his features tightening with restraint as his gaze roamed her body. Slowly, he rose to his feet in front of her, towering and wild, his damp shirt clinging to every sculpted muscle.
“I’m done second-guessing what I want. I want you, Brock.” Deb’s voice quivered with need, need of him and only him. “This may seem fast, but I don’t care.”
“Deb, for me, this is not fast. I’ve waited for you, my Mate, for a long time.” Brock said, his eyes searching hers. “There is no pressure if you want to wait.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to wait.” She sighed, feeling a lump form in her throat. “I’ve been waiting for you, too. I just didn’t know it.” Her voice full of tears.
The rain still drummed against the windows, soft thunder rumbling through the sky, but all Deb could hear was the rush of blood in her ears, the thunder of her heartbeat, and the raw emotion in Brock’s eyes. He looked like he’d been through hell and come out the other side, only to find heaven standing in front of him.
Her shirt clung to her damp skin, her hair wild from the storm, but he didn’t seem to care. He reached for her slowly. Then, without a word, he swept her up into his arms.
She gasped, arms curling instinctively around his neck, but he only held her tighter, his strength gentle but unshakable. “You don’t have to carry me,” she whispered, her voice trembling—not from fear, but from the overwhelming truth of what she felt for him.
“I want to,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to her temple. “Let me take care of you.”
He carried her through the house straight to the bedroom. The door creaked open as he nudged it with his foot, and he laid her down on the bed with the care of a man touching something precious as if she was made of glass like she mattered.
“Brock…” she whispered, her heart full to the brim.
His eyes locked on hers as he knelt beside her. Slowly, he peeled off her wet shirt, his hands trembling just slightly. Not from nerves, but from restraint. Like he was fighting to keep himself in control.
When he unbuttoned her jean shorts, he kissed the skin he revealed—her stomach, her hips, her thighs—until she arched into him with a soft, desperate sound. When she was bare before him, he paused, eyes drinking her in.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, and the words weren’t empty. They were reverent.
Then he stood and stepped out of his sweatpants, never taking his gaze off her. When he joined her on the bed, he kissed her like he needed her to breathe. She wrapped herself around him, hands threading through his damp hair, legs tangling with his. She felt his warmth and his strength in every touch as they explored each other without restraint.
And when he slid inside her, it wasn’t just her body that opened—it was her soul.
They moved together in a rhythm that felt fated like the storm had been leading them here all along. Every stroke, every breath, every moan built something sacred between them. Her nails raked gently down his back. His mouth trailed fire along her throat. They whispered each other’s names between moans and kisses.
Her climax came hard, raw, and beautiful—and she clung to him as he followed with a groan of her name, his whole body shaking.
He collapsed beside her, then immediately pulled her into his arms, tucking her close like he’d never let her go again.
The rain still fell, but inside that room, everything was quiet. Safe. Whole.
“I love you,” he whispered into her hair. “I’ve loved you since the moment I caught you from the roof.”
She laughed softly, her heart aching in the best possible way. “I love you, Brock.” She looked at him, her eyes searching his. “Thank you,”
“For what?” He frowned, his thumb rubbing her bottom lip.
“For showing me that I’m worth it.” She kissed his thumb and then smiled at him.
“You are more than worth it, Deb,” Brock said, then sighed. “I guess I need to thank you also.”
“For what?” Deb grinned, propping up on her elbow, then swiped a stray strand of hair from his forehead.
“For trusting me with your heart.” He said so sincerely that her grin faltered.
“I do trust you, and that’s saying something coming from me.” She sighed as she laid her head back on the pillow, and then her grin returned. “I thought you were going to say, for the amazing sex.”
“That’s crazy. I thought that was what you were going to thank me for.” He teased with a wink.
“It was good.” She said, then laughed when he sat up, caging her against the bed.
“Good? Just good?” He growled and then nuzzled her neck, making her squeal. “
“I’m kidding,” she giggled, which she never did. Holy shit, this man had turned her world upside down, and in a good way. “I have never in my life felt so special and loved as I did when you were loving me, Brock.”
Pulling her into his arms, he held her tight. “That’s because you are special and loved very much.”
He kissed her softly and then cuddled her next to him. She closed her eyes, feeling like the luckiest woman in the world. “I love you,” She whispered before they fell asleep in each other’s arms. The storm outside didn’t matter anymore. Because they were each other’s calm, and neither of them would ever face the darkness alone again.