“Never.” A hungry kiss followed his confession as he slowly inched his fingers down her back and began undoing her dress. “Especially since I had a Titus on my side.”
Jane gasped as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her exposed back. Slowly, he pulled her dress to the floor in a pool of fabric. “One day…” Her body felt heavy as she leaned back against his chest. “You’re going to have to tell me more about that woman.”
“That’s part of her charm—nobody really knows the truth. Did she run for president? Did she work for the CIA? Is she a Russian spy?” Brock’s hot chuckle seared her skin as his hands reached around her body and cupped her breasts, weighing them in his hands while simultaneously pulling her closer to his aroused body.
“Russian spy? Seriously?” Jane was ridiculously curious but was having a hard time concentrating on anything except the way Brock’s erection pressed against her backside—and how all she wanted to do was wiggle closer.
“I don’t want to talk about someone who’s more than likely seen my grandfather naked.” He bit her earlobe then started kissing down the right side of her neck. He turned her around to face him. His eyes were dark with need. “Shocking, I know. But I’d rather be worshipping your body with my mouth right about now.”
“That’s a good plan…” She touched her fingertips against his lips. “Thank you…for being willing to give up everything.”
“In a heartbeat.” His eyes flashed. “All of this. I would give up everything for you. Know that when I say I love you it’s because you’re special, beautiful, caring, unique. You drive me crazy, and now that I have you—I can’t imagine ever letting you go.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Good. Because I won’t let you.”
“Oh?”
She slowly started unbuttoning his shirt. He stared down at her with a half-lidded gaze as she removed his shirt.
When he was bare chested but still in his tux pants, she took a step back, crossed her arms over her breasts. “Well, good night,” she said.
He blinked at her in confusion.
Then he narrowed his eyes and crooked his finger.
She took a step back, biting down on her lip to keep from smiling.
“Come here.” He kicked off his shoes then unbuttoned his pants before tossing them into a heap near her dress. “Jane, don’t make me chase you again.”
“Again?”
“The ranch.” He took a step toward her. “It felt like every day I was chasing you, even when I was telling myself it was a bad idea… Hell, sometimes when I look at you, I wonder if I haven’t been chasing after you—the woman I was always meant to be with—my entire life.”
“You’ve really got the whole romance thing down.” She couldn’t help but smile. “The twins taught you well.”
“Final straw.” He charged her and tossed her over his shoulder, then tossed her onto his bed. She laughed as she landed with a soft thud, then let him pin her arms above her head with one hand and cup the back of her head with the other. “No more talk of grandparents, brothers, sisters, goats—”
“—cocks,” she finished.
“Oh, we can most definitely talk about that.” He rubbed his body against hers. “In fact, some might say it’s encouraged in the bedroom.”
“Is that so?”
He nodded, then slid off the last remaining piece of clothing she had on, if one could call such a tiny strip of fabric clothing—and flicked it to the side.
All that remained were her pearls.
And somehow, that felt right.
“I love you,” he moaned, covering his mouth with hers. “I know this should be more romantic, but damn it, Jane, I just want to be inside you.”
“I want that, too—” She’d barely finished talking before he was buried to the hilt inside her. Her body purred with pleasure.
“So good.” He pressed another hungry kiss to her neck. “You always feel so perfect to me.”
“I love you, Brock.” She gave him a breathless kiss as she grabbed onto a fistful of his hair and pulled him deeper and deeper until she thought she was going to explode.
“You’re mine, Jane.” He gripped the pearls, tugging her mouth toward his for another drugging kiss as he swallowed her scream.
“You’re mine, too,” she sobbed out as he sent her into what felt like a never-ending wave of pleasure.
And Brock Wellington—Boring Brock, the man who’d always said yes when all he really wanted to say was no—screamed out his yes.
And truly meant it.
Chapter Forty-Eight
You wanted to see me?” Brock said in a gruff voice. He’d been up all night with Jane, and the last thing he wanted was to be reporting to his Grandfather’s office at seven a.m. because his grandfather had said it couldn’t wait.
And that’s all his grandfather had said.
It can’t wait.