They laughed as he kissed her—softly at first, then more fiercely, his frantic hands gripping her shirt and tugging it off. His mouth fused to hers, his tongue fighting for dominance against hers as his hands slid beneath her shorts and cupped her.
She hissed out a breath as he slowly removed his hands and slid her wet shorts, then her underwear down her legs, pausing at her ankles before he pulled them off completely.
Apparently all it had taken was a few marathon sessions with Brock and she was a hussy now, completely naked on the floor after he’d stripped her bare.
He ran a hand up her thigh, but she stopped him with both hands. A look of confusion washed over his features before she laughed and held up a finger as if to say not so fast.
“My turn,” she whispered brazenly, unbuttoning his jeans and slipping her hand inside. He groaned out a curse as he moved against her fingers. He was so warm and hard that she felt her own self-control snapping as he gritted his teeth and locked eyes with her.
It was terrifying.
The way Brock looked at her as if he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life—the way he opened up to her both physically and emotionally, and the way he made her feel with just one look.
One look that held promises.
One look that held a future.
“Wait,” he gently pulled away from her and struggled out of his wet jeans. When she laughed at his awkward positioning on the floor, he glanced back. “Are you going to just sit there and mock me or help a man out?”
“I think…” She leaned up on her elbows. “I choose mocking.”
“I’m killing the moment.”
“Actually, I was thinking you were making it more entertaining.”
His lips twitched into a smile before he got to his feet, kicked off his jeans and boxers in one swift movement. Reaching for her hands he brought her to her feet, then lifted her onto the kitchen counter.
The cold granite was a shock to her skin as he hooked her ankles around his naked body. She forgot the sensation when he suddenly froze.
“What?” She asked, cupping his face with her hands then running them down his muscular shoulders.
He swallowed. “I think you’re incredible.” He leaned in closer, his mouth grazing hers. “I think you’re absolutely stunning.” His lips teased hers in a draining kiss that had her heart erratically slamming against her chest. “I think that I’ll never get enough of this.” He kissed her harder. “It’s not just your taste…” His lips lingered on the slender column of her neck. “It’s you. Jane, it’s you.”
“It’s me what?” Her voice was wobbly with emotion.
“You’re everything. I could see you naked every second of every day, feel your body beneath my hands, watch you explode with ecstasy every waking moment and it would never be enough.” He gripped her hips, pulling her to the end of the counter and filling her completely.
She kissed him hard as he moved inside her. Anticipation built until she thought she was going to lose her mind. It was almost more than she could handle.
Because even as they made love she could tell things were shifting yet again, and they were on uneven ground. Both desperately trying to hold onto something they weren’t sure they could have. A future that wasn’t certain.
Desperation filled her. She longed to be owned by him. To belong to him and only him.
Her head fell back as he stretched her, thrusting inside, filling her over and over again.
“I’ll always want you,” he vowed, kissing her neck as his hands moved to her hips, thumbs digging into her skin.
“Me,” she sighed, “too.”
“Damn it, stop before I lose control.”
She kissed him again.
“Me,” she sighed, “too.”
With a primitive moan he buried into her as she drove her hips toward his body in a desperate attempt to feel more of him.
Her release surged across her body and she went limp in his arms.
His body jerked and then spasmed as he brushed another kiss across her mouth.
Sagging against him, she was too lost in bliss to do anything but revel in the feel of him still inside her, his heartbeat as it slammed against his chest, then slowed.
“Hey Jane.” Brock pulled back and looked into her eyes. “The floor’s dirty again.”
She slapped him weakly against the chest. “Well then, better clean it, Brock.”
“I vote to leave it this way, with your ass cheeks imprinted on it. Hell, let’s build a monument and—”
She shut him up with her mouth. As they lost themselves in one another she ignored the ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room.
Just like she ignored the wild yearning she had to keep him here at the ranch forever.
* * *
Brock ignored his grandfather’s calls for the next three days. They were almost worse than the loud clanging of the clock in the living room or the damn cock every morning.
Reminders were everywhere.
Reminders that he only had three more days with Jane.
Reminders that he had to confront his grandfather. The thought of it made him break out into a cold sweat, but the thought of no Jane was like a physical pain.
The hot shower pelted his back, giving him the wakeup call he needed after spending the night in Jane’s arms.
It felt right.
Sleeping next to her.
Being inside her.
How the hell could he even date another woman, let alone marry another woman? How could another woman ever measure up to the way Jane made him feel—like he wasn’t some lost boy pretending to be a man? She listened to him, understood him, challenged him. God, she was perfect.
“Brock.” Jane’s smooth voice interrupted his thoughts.
Suddenly she was in the bathroom, completely naked. “Damn.”
A blush lit up her cheeks. “Need some company?”
“Need.” He exhaled slowly. “Want.” Brock held out his hands. “Come here, beautiful.”
Her hips swayed as she slowly approached the glass shower door then slowly opened it and stepped in. Her brown hair was splayed across her shoulders, her lips full, ready for him.
“This is a nice surprise,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms.
She shivered and then kissed him before saying, “I had a run-in with the clock downstairs and panicked.”
He sighed as a heaviness rested on his shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
Her face brightened. “We have now.”
It felt like his chest was cracking in half. “That we do.”
They didn’t say any more; words were pointless anyway. Words couldn’t and wouldn’t solve their problem, and honestly, he just wanted to touch her, feel her.
Brock pressed his mouth to hers and slowly entwined their hands as hot water ran down their naked bodies. Steam billowed around them as he licked a droplet of water from her chin and moved his mouth slowly down her neck until he was facing her gorgeous, lush breasts.
God, would he ever get enough of her?
Her hands hit the glass and slid down to brace herself as his mouth found her nipple—teasing, sucking—he’d never forget the way she tasted or how she responded to his mouth no matter where he kissed her, sucked her.
“Brock.” Her chest rose and fell as she gave him a half-lidded stare. “That feels…amazing.”
“You’re amazing.” He pulled back and stood to stare at the woman who’d completely thrown his world upside-down.
The woman he wanted more than anything.
Even if that meant facing his worst fear.
“Come here.” He molded his mouth over hers as she reached for him, her greedy hands grasping at him in a way that was enough to make him lose his damn mind.
“Turn around,” he said gruffly, gripping her hips without waiting for her response.
Jane gasped as he used his feet to slide her legs wider apart and then bent her forward and thrust into her.
> She gasped and then pushed back, meeting his thrusts. “Yes!” Her wet hair slapped against her back. The view from his angle was enough to make any man black out from ecstasy.
“I’m going to—”
“Jane.” He clenched his teeth. “Come on, baby.”
She cried out, slamming her hands against the glass wall.
And he realized—he couldn’t spend a day, a week, a year without this woman falling apart in his arms.
* * *
Later that day they fell into their usual routine: she cleaned around the house and he made sure the cock wasn’t bullying the other animals.
The hens were more than happy.
The cock glared at him but otherwise left him alone.
Buttercup ate her oats and neighed while the ass roamed free—it was impossible to keep the damn thing locked up. One day Brock was going to put a camera out in the barn just to see if the ass really was as smart as he wanted everyone to believe. On more than one occasion he’d found the damn thing standing in the middle of the living room.
With the TV on, no less.
Always The Today Show.
Always.
His days had fallen into a routine, one he liked, one that didn’t include going to his grandfather’s meetings, making sure he shook hands with men he didn’t give two shits about.
Between board meetings, golf, charity dinners—his life had become something he didn’t recognize anymore.
Until now.
That Brock—the one who lived in the city, who was boring, and a complete copy of his grandfather—he didn’t exist out at the ranch. And yet he was terrified that once he returned to the city, he’d lose what he’d found here, what he’d found with Jane.
With a heavy sigh he made his way back into the house to find Jane staring in horror at the TV.
“The guest list is in for the first annual Bachelor Auction.” The newscaster looked like she was going to burst with excitement. “And the names on the list just may surprise you. Here are our picks for the women who will bid the most, though all we can do is speculate. It’s still fun to see who might win out and who gets the charity date, along with a chance to steal Brock Wellington’s heart! Rumors about the bachelor’s disappearance have been rampant and the one that refuses to die is the suggestion that he’s taking time away from the speculation to decide who he’s truly interested in. Is Brock Wellington planning on settling down? And is he using the auction as a way to find someone who matches him in looks, wealth, and power? We agree that these women are sure to make any man wish he was getting auctioned off!”
Brock gulped as the screen flashed pictures of the women.
“Supermodel Tamara Sanderson, actress Julie Zellman, and co-founder of the country’s fastest growing fashion app Di Fashion, to name a few! We want to know, who would you pick? Take the poll and you could win a ticket to the charity ball this Saturday night! Tickets are ten thousand a head; don’t miss this once in a lifetime chance to attend Cinderella’s Ball!”
Brock quickly found the remote and changed the channel, only to discover the story was there as well. Apparently he was breaking news—again.
He hit the power button, and the room fell into an awkward silence.
“Sorry.” He locked eyes on Jane. She was hunched over, chewing her bottom lip, her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“It’s okay,” she croaked.
“Come here.” He held out his hands.
She shook her head and took a step back.
“Jane?”
“I c-can’t.” She crossed her arms. “I um, missed one of the bathrooms upstairs. I should go clean it and—”
“Jane!”
She turned and ran—well, tried to run considering her ankle was still hurt. She’d made it halfway up the stairs before he caught up to her.
“Stop.” He pulled her into his arms. “Just stop.”
“You have to go back.” She stared at his chest.
“Yes.” It killed him to say so. “But you do, too. As much as I want to stay here forever…we have to face our ghosts. Weren’t you the one who said that?”
Jane nodded. “I’m going back to my life, Brock, but…will you be a part of it?”
He closed his eyes and breathed out a curse. “Jane, just give me a few days to talk to my grandfather. It’s been a long time coming, but I can’t just drop this news on him. I mean, think of his heart and—”
“His heart?” Jane repeated loudly. “Has he ever had a weak heart?”
“Well, he may have had an anxiety attack over me not doing the auction, but we thought it was a heart attack at first,” Brock said defensively. “And he’s always talking about his impending death.”
“Brock, are you listening to yourself? Are you seriously going to do whatever he says for the rest of your life just because you’re worried he’s going to die the minute you say no?”
Anger swelled in his chest. “You don’t get it! He’s all I have!”
“What about me?”
“That’s not what I mean. You’re different.”
“I thought I was, but…” She shrugged. “Brock, if you deny him, he’s not going to die.”
“You don’t know that. You can’t know that. Accidents happen. Remember?” He shook his head. He knew his argument made no sense, not even to him anymore. “Look, all I’m asking for is time.”
“We don’t have time. The ball is on Saturday. Today is Thursday.”
He gulped and looked away, clenching his teeth together. “Can’t you at least give me time? I mean, you of all people should know how hard it is to stand up to family. You’ve been a doormat to your own sisters your entire life!”
Jane’s lower lip trembled as her eyes filled with tears. “You’re right. But I’m willing to make that change and it’s because of you! I’m willing to fight for me, to fight for us. Are you?”
“Jane.” Brock felt like his heart was breaking. “I’m just asking for time.”
“Time.” She sighed. “Then I guess that’s it.”
What had just happened? Why did this feel like good-bye? He blinked hard at her. “So, you’re okay?”
“No, Brock. I’m not okay. I’m leaving.”
“What the hell?” he roared.
“You said you needed time,” she fired back. “So I’m going to give it to you. Spend the next few days thinking about what you want, or”—she seemed to shrink inside herself—“if you already know, you can just go back, and tell your grandfather how you feel before it’s too late.”
“It’s not just about my feelings anymore.” He sat down and ran his hands through his hair. “If all I had to do was say no to my grandfather, I could manage it.” His eyes burned when he took in her sad expression. “Jane, it terrifies me. But for you, for you I would risk it.”
She gulped and sat down next to him, sliding her hand up his thigh. “Then what is it? What aren’t you telling me?”
“The shareholders want to push Grandfather out. I don’t know the exact details but I do know that for him to say something to me, it must be bad. He’s using the auction as a way to show a united front—me, him, the twins. The face of Wellington. The publicity alone has made them change their tune, enough that they seem at least partially satisfied. The other snag we have is Titus Enterprises. We’ve had several…” He tried to think of the correct words. “We’ve had several sour dealings with them and the board has been itching for a better business relationship with them.” He locked eyes with her. “Guess who’s co-sponsoring the auction?”
Jane’s eyes fell. “Titus Enterprises.”
“Right.” His laugh was bitter. “And they’re absolutely thrilled that the future leader of Wellington is going to take one for the team.”
“You,” she whispered.
“Me.” He nodded. “Wellington, Inc. is everything to my grandfather. Saying no may not kill him; you’re right. But losing this company to a bunch of greedy shareholders who wou
ld run our name into the ground would.”
“I understand.” Jane stood.
“Just…” Brock didn’t release her hand. “Give me time to think of a solution that keeps everyone happy…and living.” His try at a joke missed its mark; if anything her face fell more.
“Brock.” Tears filled her eyes. “You’ve known me three weeks. You’ve been with your grandfather, and this company, your whole life.” She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “I can’t expect you to sacrifice everything for a maid.”
He sucked in a breath. “You’re not just a maid.”
“Okay, the hired help.” She offered a sad smile and cupped his face with her free hand. “I’ll wait for you.” Tears spilled onto her cheeks. “And I hope you can come up with a solution.”
“You don’t have to leave.”
“Maybe we both should. I’ll go back home and face my own ghosts.” Her brave smile wasn’t making him feel any better. “And you can go try to find a way to keep the company and your grandfather.”
“And what about us?”
“We’ll be fine.” It was a lie. Even as she said it, he knew she didn’t really believe her own words. His chest clenched. Did she really have that little faith in him?
Then again, even as he sat there hating life, hating their circumstances, he literally had no clue how to fix them—and still keep her.
She left two hours later.
Brock suddenly understood what it was like to feel truly empty. His parents’ death had altered the course of his life—but a few weeks with Jane had changed it as well.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Jane held back the tears that threatened the entire drive back to Phoenix. She was proud of herself when she finally pulled up to her house that evening and had managed to shed only one.
New life, new life, new life.
She had to confront her sisters even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. She needed a life of her own, a life that didn’t involve walking on eggshells. And Brock was right; would her father really have wanted her to live this way in order to keep the family together? She’d tried. But now, she needed to create a life for herself.
And she hoped to God that Brock would find a way to create one for himself—with her in it.
The Bachelor Auction Page 18
