Chapter 11
They made their way up the steps to the front door.
It was a frosty December night with plenty of stars and a biting wind.
They’d most likely wake up to frost on the ground and their windshield frozen.
Krista hugged both her and Brock’s coats tightly around her body, thankful for the added layer of leather, which cut the wind nicely.
Her boot hit the last step when suddenly she felt herself slipping.
There was a black ice patch on the top step, and her foot came out from under her. Immediately, all thoughts flew to the baby, and tossing off the coats, she windmilled her arms and did an awkward cha-cha dance to try to regain her footing. She couldn’t fall, she just couldn’t.
But then big, strong arms wrapped around her waist, and she found herself plastered against hard, warm brick. Brock’s brick chest.
“Easy … ” he hummed, his breath hot on her neck. “You wouldn’t be nearly as beautiful with black and blue bruises everywhere.”
She blinked up at him, having to flutter her lashes like a flirty little tween.
And as if they were the stars of some Christmas romantic comedy made-for-television movie, flurries began to flutter down around them.
Like cherry blossoms in May, gathering like clumps of dandruff in their hair and on their clothes.
His eyes found hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
Then, just to finish the scene before it faded to black, he lowered his head and took her mouth.
“Holy Jesus, it’s freezing in here!” Krista shivered as she moved out of the way so that Brock could enter the foyer behind her. She was about to hang their coats up but suddenly thought better of it and instead put them back, toed off her boots and stuffed her feet into her slippers.
Without bothering to take his shoes or coat off, let alone muttering a word, Brock took the steps two at a time and headed to the control panel for the furnace down the hall.
“Shit!” he exclaimed. “Furnace is broken.”
“Seriously?” Krista hugged her body and came up behind him. “Can you fix it? Or do I have to sleep in my clothes and coat?”
He shook his head. “I’ll have a look at it in the morning. Might just need more oil. But for now, I think we might have to light a fire in the fireplace and maybe sleep out in the living room.”
She nodded. “Okay. I’ll go get some blankets.”
He grunted, pushing past her again and heading downstairs or outside or somewhere, probably to go and find wood.
By the time she’d gathered all the bedding, Brock had returned and was crouched down next to the open hearth in the living room, blowing on flickering embers. Within seconds, larger flames began to dance, and soon it was beautiful orange and red wings of warmth pirouetting along the logs.
Krista let out a contented sigh. The cold that had seemed to embed itself in her very marrow once the adrenaline had worn off finally showed signs of receding.
“Go shower,” he said with a grunt, not bothering to look at her. “Warm up, and the fire will be ready when you’re out.”
She pouted at his back but did as she was told, hoping that he’d join her and they could continue on with the romance from out in the driveway. But alas, no. She was forced to shower alone and scrub her own back.
Emerging a short while later in plaid flannel pants, a big oversize gray hoodie, her fuzzy green and pink cat socks and a French braid down her back, she found Brock in the kitchen with the sound of a kettle boiling. The fire was roaring, and the bedding had all been made.
Krista wandered over to the fire and sat down on the floor, bringing the covers up over her legs. She watched the flames dance, twirl and crackle, burning the once red-hued logs to a dark black.
“Tea?” he asked, making her jump out of her skin.
The man was like a ninja when he wanted to be, all stealth and silence.
And then at other times, his big gladiator body stomped around the house and creaked on the stairs as if he were a giant toddler, adding to the paradox that was Brock Hart.
A tough nut to crack, a hard man to get to know. Her hard Hart.
But she was determined to get to know him.
Each and every time they were together, whether it be sitting on the couch watching a renovation show and eating a stir-fry or rolling around in his bed like sweaty teenagers, she thought she saw a new side of him.
But the man was proving to be one of those dodecahedron things, multi-sided and endlessly complicated.
“Tea?” he grunted again, nudging her back with his shin this time.
“Oh, um, sure. Thanks,” she said, shaking her head, letting the confusing thoughts rattle around and then slowly disappear.
He crouched down and handed her a steaming cup of what smelled like Sleepytime tea.
“You care to join me?” she asked, patting the empty space in the bedding beside her. “Plenty of room for two.”
A slow and intriguing smile curved his lips, and in a moment, Brock’s shirt and sweater were off and his pants soon followed, leaving him in nothing but those sexy black boxer briefs. He wasn’t hard, but the line of his cock was hard to miss. Her man was hung.
Blowing the steam off her tea, Krista ran her tongue along the seam of her lips, eyeing Brock like he was a choice cut of meat she just couldn’t wait to sink her teeth into.
“Tongue back in your mouth.” His voice was low and gritty. A hunger echoed in those words, one of demand, one that met her own. He slipped in beside her.
Rather than punch him in the shoulder and tell him to shut up for his smart-ass response, she couldn’t.
She was on fire. Pushing the covers off her and quickly standing up, Krista began to undress.
The fire, the tea, the flannel and hoodie, all combined with the insane heat radiating off the man beside her, and suddenly her whole body burned.
“You don’t waste any time, do you?” he asked, a hint of humor to his tone.
She threw her hoodie onto the couch. “Shut up. I’m boiling.” Next came the pants, then the socks, until she was in nothing but her underwear and a black tank top.
She stepped over his body before sinking back down into the covers.
The whole time, their eyes remained locked.
He watched her. She watched him. It was hard to tell who was the prey and who was the hunter at this point.
Need and hunger seemed to percolate around both of them as pheromones bounced off the walls and the sexual tension grew thick and heady.
A low growl rumbled from the back of his throat, dark and dripping with promise. His green eyes glowed fierce and bright in the firelight, but as each moment passed, the pupils grew bigger and darker.
But she needed to find out more about Brock.
That kiss outside had made those feelings she’d been having for him rachet up several notches, and her whole body had sparked alive in his arms. He was more than just a roommate.
He was more than just the father of her child.
He was more than just a lover. He was the man she was falling for, and she needed to learn more about him. She needed to learn everything.
The sex could wait.
Or could the talking wait?
Her nipples pebbled beneath her tank top, and her entire core clenched.
Her body certainly didn’t want to wait.
But if they had sex now, he might just roll over and go to sleep after. Then when would they talk? She had him here by the fire. They’d just shared a romantic moment outside. Maybe he would be open to talking, open to sharing.
“Awful lot of thinking going on in that sexy brain of yours,” he said, lifting one dark eyebrow.
Krista’s lips twisted into a half smile as she grabbed her mug of tea and brought it beneath her nose.
“Care to tell me what you’re thinking about? I’m assuming it’s dirty.”
She took a sip and let the tea sit on her tongue for a moment before answering.
“Well, some thoughts were, yes. But I’m also curious about you.
We’ve been living together for a while now, we have sex all the time, and we’re having a baby together.
Don’t you think it’s high time we got to know each other better? ”
Something, she couldn’t quite put her finger on what exactly, changed in him. He hardened. Wariness clouded his eyes, and he shifted uncomfortably in the bedding.
“You think so, do you?” he finally said.
She nodded. “I do. You can ask me questions too. It’s not a one-way street.”
All he did was grunt.
Nibbling on her bottom lip for a moment, she averted her gaze, pulling at a stray thread on one of the sheets. “How did your dad die?”
She lifted her head to gauge his reaction, but he wasn’t looking at her either. His eyes were fixed on the flames, and in turn they reflected back in that gorgeous green. Like emerald fire.
“In a car accident.”
“I’m sorry.”
Brock sank down into the covers and put his head on the pillow, folding his arms up behind his neck and letting his eyes focus on the ceiling above. “I was in the car with him.”
Krista gasped, her efforts in slinking down beside him halting in her surprise. “Oh my God.”
Brock nodded solemnly. “He’d just picked me up from football practice, and we were on our way home. ”
Krista’s heart physically ached at the idea of a young boy having to endure the pain that Brock did. No child, no person should ever have to witness such a thing.
“There was a guy speeding down a busy road. Even though my dad was technically off duty, he was still in a patrol car and heard the call. Figured he’d just park the car at the entrance to a shopping center and that the sight of his vehicle would make the driver slow down. Most of the time it does.”
Krista nodded in understanding. It was true. Often, she and Myles would just go park their car in a school or park zone and have lunch or do paperwork, not even bothering to get out, because the presence of the law often seemed to be enough to enforce the rules.