Chapter 23

23

B rock had been in a tailspin since this godforsaken evening had started and the out-of-control sensation hadn’t let up since.

Desperate to obliterate the questions reverberating through his head, he struggled not to break the speed record between the function centre and his place. But he did turn up the music, his state-of-the-art sound system drowning out his thoughts and anything Jayda might have to say.

From the curious expression on her face, it would be plenty.

She wanted to talk. Even now, he could sense her casting sideways glances his way, as if she was trying to size up the situation. In response, he tapped at a button on the steering wheel, raising the volume.

He wanted to talk, but he couldn’t; not until he processed all he’d learned during that interminable function, starting with how his father’s cronies revered him and ending with how his mates admired him for changing.

He’d witnessed his folks sniping and bickering for years behind closed doors, guilty that they stuck together because of him. The harsh put-downs, the derisive glares, the frigid stares, he’d seen them all. He’d thought his parents despised each other. But to learn others had seen it too shocked the hell out of him.

Even more surprising, while Duke and Pat had alluded to his parents’ problematic marriage, they’d also painted a very different picture of George and Bette more recently, which gelled with what Brock had observed.

It confused the hell out of him. Had he been so self-centred that he hadn’t noticed the changes? Sure, they rarely spent time together, but he should’ve seen something …

This whole business made his head ache and he needed a distraction.

Luckily, he had a luscious, beautiful distraction sitting next to him and the minute they entered his penthouse he wouldn’t dwell on his bizarre evening or the revelations regarding his folks anymore.

He didn’t need anyone as a rule, but tonight he needed Jayda.

Being a loner had served him well. Not depending on anyone meant he had low expectations of people and avoided disappointment. But tonight was the first time in a long time that he didn’t want to be alone. He wanted to be… held.

That couldn’t be right. He wanted to fuck. Yeah. Fucking would obliterate his neediness. Cuddling was for sooks.

A deeply buried memory rose unbidden. He’d been five and tripped over a hubcap at the car yard, landed heavily and sliced his knee open. The blood had freaked him out more than the cut and he’d run screaming into the office and into his mother’s arms. She’d gathered him close and smothered his face with kisses to distract him while she’d dabbed at his knee with a tissue. His dad had marched into the office, bellowing about his screaming scaring off a customer. George had taken one look at his knee, at his mum comforting him, and sneered, ‘Cuddling is for sooks.’

Was that the first time he’d started to hate his dad?

His fingers clenched around the swipe card to the underground car park as he held it up to the scanner and the metal grate slowly slid up. He hated that his thoughts of a moment ago had once again echoed his father, reminding Brock it could be time to acknowledge their similarities when he’d spent too long accentuating their differences.

He parked and turned off the engine, the sudden silence making him aware of exactly how loud he’d had the sound.

‘Why didn’t you tell me how loud that was?’

She swivelled to face him, her compassionate expression surprising him. ‘Because you needed to drown out your thoughts.’

Was he that easy to read? He didn’t need her empathy on top of everything else. Her understanding had the power to undo him completely when he was feeling this vulnerable.

Scowling, he got out of the car and rounded it to open her door. He didn’t offer his hand. He couldn’t touch her, not when he wanted to hang onto her so badly and never let go.

‘You could take me home if you want to be alone,’ she said, even her calm, well-modulated tone driving him nuts.

She had no idea how torn up he was inside, how out of control. But as she pinned him with a direct stare, maybe she did. Was she that intuitive she was giving him time to process? Most women he knew, including his mum, wouldn’t let their curiosity lie. They’d harangue and harass, bugging him with questions. Yet Jayda hadn’t done that, despite his bizarre mood that must have her wondering what the hell was going on.

In that moment, he fell harder for her.

Here was a woman who matched him in every way. She enticed him and challenged him and understood him. She was sweet and genuine and caring, which meant he’d never put her through a long-term relationship with him.

Brock knew he was incapable of giving a woman like Jayda what she deserved. His inherent fear of growing complacent and making a woman hate him ran bone-deep. And of all people in his life, he’d never forgive himself if he eventually drove her away because of his emotionally stunted problems.

He needed to get this night back on track.

Starting now.

‘Does this feel like I want to be alone?’ He grabbed her hand and rubbed it against his cock, desperate for the distraction of sex.

Her eyebrow arched. ‘Here?’

‘Too many cameras,’ he muttered, holding onto her hand and not letting go until they reached his penthouse.

As they stepped out of the elevator and the doors slid shut, Brock spun to face her. His heart pounded as he saw the questions in her eyes and before she could speak he backed her up against the wall.

‘Hard and fast okay with you?’ He rested his forehead against hers, hoping she couldn’t absorb his tumultuous thoughts.

Her soft breath fanned his lips as she whispered, ‘It’s okay with me—’

He covered her mouth with his, desperate to taste her.

From the second her lips parted and her tongue swept into his mouth, he forgot every single painful memory of the evening and focussed on her.

Only her.

Untying the knot at the back of her neck so the halter left her glorious tits bare.

Unzipping the dress and savouring the hiss as it slid down her body to pool in a black slick at her feet.

Undoing the tiny knots at her hips that held her lace panties together, almost ripping the flimsy material in his haste to get to her.

Unravelling completely as he slid his fingers between her slick folds to find her ready for him, her clit swollen and her pussy drenched.

As he toyed with her clit, she unzipped him, squeezing his cock as she freed it. Pleasure shot to his balls and he groaned, palming her ass as he lifted her. She knew exactly what to do as she wrapped her legs around him and guided his cock to her pussy.

He slid in to the hilt and she gasped, wrenching her mouth from his so she could look him in the eye.

It was too raw, too honest, but he couldn’t look away as he withdrew and plunged into her. Over and over. Her tiny gasps of enjoyment spurring him on as the friction of her tight pussy drove him towards the mindless release he craved.

She hung onto one of his shoulders as her other hand slid between their bodies and when she touched herself he went a little crazy, pounding into her so fast he grew lightheaded.

‘So good,’ she murmured, her hand moving faster between them as her panting increased.

He felt her pussy tighten around his cock and when she bit down on her bottom lip a moment before stiffening and coming apart on a keen, he let go.

With a final thrust he came, his back spasming with the intensity of it.

At some point his eyes must’ve drifted shut because when he opened them, what he saw terrified him.

Jayda, staring at him with every emotion he’d fought against for so long.

She couldn’t love him.

He couldn’t love her.

How the fuck would he tell her?