Chapter 14

Jamie

Having sex with my boss would be the world's dumbest thing to do, so why was I thinking just that right now?

Number one, he came downstairs looking like he always did, but better. Clean and smelling of something spicy and musky, I found myself trailing closer, wanting to breathe him in. The flannel shirt Millie mocked? It was all soft and pettable, and then I did just that. I said it was because I was to establish some sort of code for him to use if he met someone else, but… When my hand spanned his chest, confirming that his body was just as hard and packed with muscle as I'd always suspected, all thoughts of other women were shoved aside.

Just as I would them if they came close to Brock.

What? Where the hell did that bullshit come from? He wasn't mine. That rational thought was like a flickering candle in the middle of a hurricane, blown out all too quickly. Instead, a secret part of myself that I'd kept stuffed down for way too long came rushing out.

When we were teenagers, Brock was a man. Mysterious, cool, and contained, my teenage eyes had followed him around the house every time he came by to visit his parents. Part of me felt the divide between us, me kid, him adult, far too deeply to do anything but mumble hello when I saw him, but the other half? Some primal, animal part of me was sure that Brock would provide for me, keep me safe, and that was so seductive. The fact he never made a move on me as an apprentice, something too many of the other women at trade school couldn't claim, just increased that feeling, but now… Now I was allowed to touch, allowed to run my hands over that broad chest, all the while wanting to undo every button and follow the tattoos that peeked over his collar, tracing each one with my fingers.

To the pub, I was just flirting with my man. Only I knew how wrong this was, and when Brock's hands went around my wrists, I thought he was about to prise them away. Instead, he held me right where I was, staring down at me as his thumbs no doubt felt the rapid skitter of my pulse.

The twins were hot, but Brock? He was like this wall between me and the rest of reality. In the little bubble he created, the world outside didn't exist. I stopped babbling shit and just stared at him. I felt safe, I felt cared for, I felt— Some great admission was ready to be made, when Clinton interrupted and I nearly bit his head off in response. When I spun about to face him, Brock's arms went out and around me, dragging me back where I was supposed to be, nestled between two thick thighs.

Clinton's smirk didn't register, the conversation going right over my head, because Brock was communicating something else oh-so clearly. There were two layers of denim between him and me, and still I felt it. Big, thick, and rock hard, I was pressed up against my boss' rigid dick.

Oh fuck…

I felt like I was dropping down into a hot bath, every nerve ending prickling at the sudden change in temperature. It was a cool night, but I didn't register a bit of it, a flush colouring my skin. That was super embarrassing, I was dimly aware of that, but it didn't seem to make a difference. Conversation flowed around me, the guys' voice a low rumbling soundtrack to my body betraying me. I was fairly sure the nice, clean granny panties I'd put on before we went were a total mess, because while my brain knew this was fake, physically I was preparing.

What would it feel like going in? I thought dimly, my hips rocking back to trace the shape of him as much as I could from this position. Would it hurt just a little, the way I liked, making me all too aware that he was thrusting deep into me, before I opened up and let him in? Would he have a fat head that rubbed perfectly against that spot inside me? Would he have my nails raking his back, urging him on, faster, deeper, his hands locking down around my hips.

Just like they were now.

Holy fuck, what the hell was I doing? Reality hit me like a bucket of cold water to the face. Brock was my boss and I was what? Grinding on him? I was flushing in earnest now, but not due to lust, my hands shaking as I grabbed my rum and Coke and downed it before pulling away.

"Damn, Mouse—" Clinton said.

"Who wants another?" I asked, jerking myself free of Brock. "My shout."

They were all still halfway through their beers, but the guys quickly drank the rest in response to an offer of free beer.

"Jamie—" Brock started to say, his tone all too familiar. It was the long-suffering one he used when I'd fucked up something again. I didn't need a lecture this time, all too aware of my transgressions.

"You want a beer too, boss?" I said the last word with undue emphasis. "On it."

Every stride away from the table helped clear my head, but that only made things worse. What the hell was I thinking? This was fake. Millie had set the whole scenario up and I'd… Why the hell…? Why?—?

"Back already?" Millie said with a raised eyebrow, wiping down the bar. "If you're gonna say Brock is driving you to drink, welcome to the club."

"Ah, no…" I shoved a hand in one pocket, then another, looking for my wallet, remembering now I'd put it on the table. I looked back forlornly, only to find Brock had turned his stool around to regard me steadily. "Hey, it's my shout and I left my wallet on the table?—"

"The table that's all the way over there?" she asked with a slow smile.

"Right, and I don't want to have to walk back to the table."

"All the way over there."

My eyes narrowed as she repeated herself for emphasis.

"Just gimme another round and make mine a double. Put it on my tab. You know I'm good for it."

"I'll give you a free double if you tell me why you don't want to go and grab your wallet," she countered.

"You don't want to know."

"Oh, on the contrary. I really, really do." She moved around the bar, grabbing glasses and pulling beers, but looked pointedly at me, and that's when I considered telling her the truth.

Millie didn't love the kind of female attention her brothers got. She'd found herself too often making friends with girls who were just using that as a means to get closer to the twins, something she'd confessed to me one night. When we were teenagers, her parents were even forced to escort some of the girls that attended sleepovers back to Millie's room. I'd sat with her through her disappointment, her feelings of being used, and promised her one thing.

I'd never go there with any of her brothers, yet here I was, ready to jump Brock's bones.

"Mills—"

"You may as well tell me, Jamesina." I let out a little growl at the shitty nickname she only dragged out when she was really determined. Another rum and Coke went sliding towards me, the stink of alcohol strong.

I took a drink, winced and then said, "I suck at fake dating. I was rude to Brock earlier and now…" I stared at the bar, not her. "I was kind of…"

"Enough foreplay, Jamie. Spit it out."

"Foreplay…" I stared at her. "About that." I laughed shakily, sure I was about to burn this friendship to the ground. "You promise not to get mad?"

"Bitch, this isn't high school. People don't go out of their way to talk to me because of my parent's other crotch goblins. The guys live their lives and I live mine. Anyway, I set you up with Brock. Seems not entirely unreasonable that the two of you might actually hit it off. So…" She leaned over the bar with a grin. "Are you?"

"I think…" I shifted restlessly. "I mean, I don't… I don't know how to talk about this without mentioning your brother's dick."

"Oh my god." She shrank back. "Try."

"Um… so he was doing the whole PDA thing," I said, searching around for the words.

"Saw that. You two look cute together. Your mother is gonna shit when she sees you at it."

"And he was… responding."

"Responding?" She gagged theatrically. "Got it."

"And I responded to his responding?" I span my hands around, unsure how to phrase this, so I just spat it out. "I may or may not have accidentally started grinding on your brother's lap." Her splutter was explosive. I was forced to wipe saliva from my face with a napkin. "I mean he pulled me close and he was obviously enjoying the experience, and so was I and Mills–he's hot. I know you don't like girls talking about that, but Brock's really, really hot. If he wasn't your brother, I'd have been under that desk of his, getting to know not-so-little Brock way before now."

"Well…" That masculine voice and Millie's gleeful expression told me everything I needed to know. I had a death grip on my drink, lest I completely lose my shit. A finger slid up my spine, forcing it to arch under his caress. "That would've made doing paperwork a whole lot more interesting."

I was cringing so hard my muscles ached, but he spun me around anyway to face him.

"Millie, keep the card and cover the guys' drinks, because Jamie and I? We've got a dinner date to get to."

"Don't forget protection!" Millie yelled out across the pub as Brock pulled me towards the door. "No glove, no love! Before you hump, cover your stump!"

Her impromptu PSA for safe sex was interrupted by Brock snatching my wallet off the table and then turning to the guys.

"You'll get another couple of drinks on me, but don't try anything stupid," he growled.

"Got somewhere to be, boss?" Ken asked with a grin.

"No offence, but if I'm gonna go out with my lady, I don't want to see your ugly mugs next to hers."

"Brock… Brock!"

He let me go when we reached the car park, turning to face me. "I'm sorry you heard that."

"I'm not."

I shook my hands.

"It was supposed to be a private conversation. I was just feeling Millie out?—"

"I know what you were doing." Those amber coloured eyes seemed to see everything and he didn't flinch away for a second. "Before you were talking to my sister and after you and I…"

When he stormed over, I started to back away, sure he was about to yell at me. That this was fake, that I was blurring lines that should've stayed right where they were. What I didn't expect was him to pin me against the side of his car, his body pressing into mine, making very clear that nothing had changed for him. Still hard, still pressing in right where I needed him. His hands cradled my face and tilted my eyes up to meet his.

I saw it then, the fire in his eyes, the way he was sucking in breaths like he just couldn't get enough.

Of me.

I felt like a dog straining on a leash, wanting to get closer, but not able to, my eyes tracing the shape of his mouth.

"I need to take you on a proper date, to get you dinner."

"Uh huh…" I breathed.

"You deserve that."

"Right."

When I nodded, my head felt too loose on my neck.

"But to do what's right, I need…" His head dropped down and my hands slid up and around his neck, my fingers stroking through his hair, revelling in the silken slip of it. Brock let out a little grunt when I grabbed a handful of it. "Just this. Just this, Jamie."

I didn't get to ask what, because his mouth crashed down on mine, stopping all words, thoughts, meaning, and forcing me to focus only on the way his kiss felt.

Pizza was overrated. This was perfection.