Chapter 17
ADAM
Brock passed the bag of burgers over to me before moving the tray table into place. I set the bag down and pulled out the mouthwatering, greasy, cheesy hunk of heaven. Just the smell was enough to make me drool.
I ripped open the wrapper and sank my teeth into the thick, juicy burger, moaning at the taste and smell.
“That was almost pornographic,” Brock said.
When I looked over, he was adjusting himself. I swallowed around the lump in my throat. The sight of him touching himself reminded me of all the times I’d seen him do the same in the past. It was so fucking erotic, knowing I did that to him.
I cleared my throat and took another, bigger bite, moaning again.
“Don’t eat so fast you’ll get sick,” Brock said, his hand still lying on that big, beautiful dick of his.
Too bad it’s hidden.
After I’d chewed and swallowed, I laughed it off. “I’ve puked my guts up so many times over the last few weeks. What’s one more?”
Brock’s arms came back up to his chest as he folded them before him. He did that a lot when he was upset, like he was protecting himself from whatever was coming at him. Or trying to keep shit bottled up.
I finished the sandwich. The food settled like a rock in my gut. Whether it was due to it being the first thing I’d eaten other than the slop I’d been given while held captive or because of the conversation I needed to have with Brock, I didn’t know.
Pushing the nerves away, I said, “Lock the door.”
“What?” he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Lock the door,” I repeated.
His face never shifted, but he walked over to the door and did as I asked. He turned back to me, shoving his hands into his pockets.
I took a deep breath. “Come here, please.”
Brock’s face was still clouded by confusion. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
I licked my lips and reached for his arm, pulling his hand from his pocket. I tugged him toward me as I threaded our fingers together. It was like the missing puzzle pieces of my soul slotted themselves into the right spots, completing the picture of the life I wanted.
I stared at our entwined hands, brushing my thumb over his knuckles. Emotion clogged my throat. “I never thought I’d see you again.”
Brock sat down on the bed. His free hand came up to cup my face. He mirrored the brushing of my thumb on his knuckles with his on my beard. He never said anything. I looked up at him.
“I have so many regrets, Brock. But I need you to know if I’d died, my biggest regret would’ve been never telling you I love you,” I croaked as my voice broke.
Brock gasped softly. A war waged on his face between hope and disbelief. I knew this wouldn’t be easy. He kept coming back, and I kept hurting him.
I’d hurt him so many times.
It hadn’t been easy keeping the words to myself all these years. It was hell. Now, though, I realized something that was even worse than not being able to say them. I now knew how it felt to have those words rejected or ignored.
I breathed deeply. “I do, Brock. I love you. I always have. I just couldn’t admit it. Not even to myself, because I couldn’t see a way for us. I knew if I took that last step, if I said those words, it would hurt twice as much as denying it.”
Brock got up and walked away, turning his back on me. His arms banded across his chest again.
I stared at his big, strong body as I confessed, “I begged God for the opportunity to say those words to you. I promised him that if he let me get out of that fucking place alive, I would never, ever deny my feelings for you or reject yours for me again. You are my everything. You are the air I breathe. The center of my world. You have been from the moment I met you. All I want in this world is to be with you. I will do whatever the fuck I have to do to spend the rest of my life loving you.”
I waited, giving him time to digest all the things I’d just dumped on him. Several moments passed, but he still hadn’t said anything.
“Rocket, baby?”
He turned to me. His eyes closed, and his face was wet with the tears that were still falling from his eyes.
“I think I fell in love with you the moment I laid eyes on you.” His beautiful, soulful eyes opened. “You said I’m the center of your world. You are my world, babe. Without you, I have nothing to live for. Because nothing makes any sense.”
Brock came back to me, sitting down on the bed next to my legs, cupping my face.
“When they forced me on that plane after you were captured, I realized I might never see you again, and I prayed. God, how I prayed for you. For us. I promised him that I would take whatever you were able to give me as long as you made it home alive.”
I mimicked his actions, cupping his face and pulling his lips to mine. I kissed him, and my soul sighed.
“You will never have to settle for half-measures from me again. I’m all in, all the time. From this moment on, I am yours, and if the Navy and the teams don’t like it? Well, they can go fuck themselves. You are what matters to me.”
He crushed his smiling mouth to mine, stealing my breath. I slid my arms around his neck. My body hurt so bad, but the joy in my heart overshadowed it.
Minutes or hours later, Brock pulled away, his lips shiny and swollen and begging for me to kiss them. Again. So, I did. I would never deny that urge again. I took his mouth savagely. Our tongues battled, tasting and taking and giving until I was no longer able to continue.
While our chests heaved, struggling to catch our breaths, Brock said, “How do you feel about changing jobs?”