by T L Swan
“Wow,” I whisper.
Brock takes me down to the ground floor of the second terrace. It’s so daggy compared to his apartment.
“I’m going to put the large kitchen across here.” He shows me. “And then upstairs I’m adding another four bedrooms. It will join with the other terrace on every level.”
“Why do you need five bedrooms?”
“Well, I don’t right now, but hopefully, one day, I will.”
I stare at him and my stomach churns with a wave of nervousness. He means for one day when he has kids.
Please don’t get sensible on me. You’re my bad boy quick fuck. You don’t need to be anything else.
Please just be the meathead I need you to be.
We walk back upstairs, through the opening into his room.
“I’m just going to take a quick shower, okay?”
“Sure.”
“You’re welcome to come in, by the way.” His mischievous eyes hold mine.
I giggle, he’s throwing my request to him from earlier back in his face. “I’m good.”
“Okay.” He shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
I hear the shower turn on, and I sit on the bed and look around. God, this place is beautiful. I lean down and smell his pillow. It smells good—just like him.
I lie down on his bed and imagine what it must be like to live in such a beautiful house. The shower eventually turns off, and Brock comes in with a towel wrapped around him. He stops when he sees me, and he smiles that slow, sexy smile of his.
“What?” I ask him.
“You have no fucking idea how good you look spread out on my bed.”
My heart begins to beat faster as we stare at each other.
You have no idea how good you look half naked, I want to tell him, but my mouth begins to go dry.
He drops the towel, drying himself off, and my breath catches.
Damn him for being so comfortable in his own skin.
Holy… shit. That body. I guess if I had it, I would be taking my clothes off all the time, too.
Without another word, he disappears into his walk-in wardrobe, and I close my eyes to revel in the way it feels to have such tingling in my toes. Shit, hold it together, woman.
Moments later, Brock comes back into the room fully dressed, and I find myself feeling a little disappointed.
What’s going on with me today? I tell him I want him to be a gentleman, and then I’m secretly disappointed when his is.
I need to get over myself.
“You ready?” he asks.
“Uh-huh.”
Again, he takes my hand, and I smile as he leads me down the stairs. I wonder if this is normal for him or whether this is him trying to be on his best behaviour.
Ten minutes later, we arrive at the café and take a seat. Callie and I come here often. The guy making coffees looks over, his eyes dancing with delight when he sees me walk in.
Shit. He likes me. He’s made it well known on many occasions. Brock and I sit at the table outside on the sidewalk, looking over the menus.
“What’s good?” he asks.
“Everything,” I say as I try to decide what to have. “I’m having the Eggs Benedict.”
“Okay.” He keeps looking. “I’ll get the super foods.” He closes the menu and looks up at me, breaking out into a beautiful, broad smile.
“What?” I smile back at him.
“You.”
“What about me?”
“Thinking you’re the boss of us and shit.”
I giggle. “I am the boss of us, Brock.”
His eyes dance with mischief. “But I’m the boss of all the physical activity.”
“And you seem very happy about that.”
“I am, actually.” He stretches and inhales deeply. “I feel like I was born for this role.”
I laugh. “You’re an idiot.”
The coffee guy comes over with his pen and notepad. “Hey, guys. How are you today?” His attention is focused solely on me.
“Good, thanks.” I open the menu, but I can feel the waiter’s eyes lingering on my legs, and then roaming up my body.
“Going swimming?” he asks.
My eyes flicker over to Brock who glances up from his menu and frowns. I giggle nervously. “Yes, I am. I’ll have the Eggs Benedict and a skim cappuccino, please,” I say. I look up and the waiter is staring at me, smiling with a dreamy look on his face.
“Do you always wear a bikini when you swim, or do you ever wear a one-piece?” he asks openly.
Oh God.
“Erm. Bikini, I guess.” Just take the order and go away, I don’t want to talk to you today. He’s so flirty all the time.
“I’ll bet you look good in it.” He smiles. He then remembers where he is, and he turns to Brock. “And what will you have, sir?”
“I’ll have your balls on a fucking platter if you don’t stop looking at her,” he growls.
My eyes widen. “B-Brock!” I stammer.
The poor boy stares at Brock, the colour draining from his face.
Brock glares at him. “I’ll have the super foods breakfast, and if you flirt with my girl again, I will choke you.” He taps the table in front of us. “Right here.”
The guy pales..
“Do I make myself clear?”
He swallows the lump in his throat. “Crystal.”
Brock hands him the menus. “My coffee had better be good, fucker.”
Chapter 10
“Brock,” I whisper as the guy scurries back to the kitchen to hand the order in. “What the hell was that?”
He shrugs, and I can see that temper simmering just below the surface again.
“You can’t threaten people like that,” I tell him.
“It wasn’t a threat. I’m more than happy to follow it through.”
“Are you kidding me?” I gasp.
“I won’t have you disrespected by a skinny punk in a coffee shop who thinks he can check out my girl right in front of me. He was asking for it.”
“I’m not your girl.”
“You’re here with me so that makes you my girl.”
I roll my eyes. “This is supposed to be a romantic date and...” I shake my head, words failing me.
“And what?”
“And so far, this morning, you have urinated in front of me, stripped naked without a care in the world, and now you’ve told someone you are going to strangle them on the table if they pay me any attention.”
“And?” he says dryly. “Your point is?”
“You don’t see a problem with that?”
“No.” He looks at me as if I’m stupid “I see a problem if I pretend to be something other than what I am.”
I stare at him.
“I bet your other boyfriend used to be all puppy dog eyes and shitting over you.”
I smirk. “He was, actually.” I would say jump and Simon would say how high.
He rolls his eyes, unimpressed. “Pathetic,” he mouths.
“What about your past girlfriends?” I ask. “Surely they wouldn’t have put up with your temper.”
“I wouldn’t know.” He purses his lips and looks around the café at the other people, as if he’s completely uninterested in this conversation
“What does that mean?”
“The last girlfriend I had was when I was seventeen.”
I frown. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“You haven’t had a girlfriend for eleven years?” I gasp.
“No.”
“So, what? You just sleep with girls and then… leave?”
“Pretty much.” He shrugs. “We usually have a mutual understanding.”
Our coffees arrive from a female waitress this time, and her eyes linger on Brock a little too long. What is it about this place?
“Thank you,” I mutter, distracted. I think on this for a moment. “Why don’t you have girlfriends?” I ask. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s j
ust not something I’ve ever been interested in. I was in the Navy, away for a lot of the time, and since I got back I’ve just been having fun.”
I stare at him as I try to read between the lines. “When you said that you knew a lot about me, what exactly did you mean?”
His eyes hold mine. “It was no accident we met in the club. I followed you there.”
I raise both brows and stare at him.
“I called my friends up and we staged the whole accidental meet up.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal.
I try to act unimpressed, but I fail miserably, and I smirk as I imagine him setting up the staging. “Why would you do that?”
“I told you. If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t be here right now.”
For some reason, a thrill of excitement runs through me. He searched for me. I take his hand over the table. “I like that you came looking for me.”
He sips his coffee, and I can tell he’s uncomfortable with this conversation.
“But I have to ask…. why did you? Why me?”
“Because I couldn’t get you out of my head,” he says softly, a look of uncertainty crossing his face.
I smile as I watch him. If he hasn’t ever had a girlfriend, I doubt he’s ever had these types of conversations.
Am I the first one to try and break through?
My heart flips in my chest at the prospect, and our breakfast arrives. Brock begins to eat in silence, and I feel like I need to put him at ease.
“Well, Mr. Marx. I probably should inform you that I couldn’t get you out of my head, either.” I sip my coffee. “You have had a regular position in my thoughts. Even though you’re batshit crazy,” I add.
He gives me a slow, sexy smile, and his dark eyes drop to my lips. “Have you ever been fucked on Bondi Beach before, Pock?”
I snort the coffee up my nose. “No.” I gasp for air, pounding my chest. “Absolutely not.”
What the hell? Does he think we are having sex on the beach?
What next?
“Do you have to wreck it?” I cough. “That was supposed to be a romantic moment.”
He smiles at me choking while he casually cuts into his toast.
“What are you smiling at?” I ask. God knows what’s going through that devious mind of his.
“Nothing.” He smiles to himself.
“What is that look?”
“Popping all your cherries is very high priority on my agenda, that’s all.”
I stare at him. “Well, you certainly popped the main one in a spectacular fashion.”
He smiles as he bites the food from his fork. “I haven’t even started yet, Pock.”
I stare at him, my mind a clusterfuck of emotions.
Popping cherries is Brock Marx’s language of love.
What the hell have I gotten myself into here?
“Here?” I ask as I point to the sand beneath us and look around Bondi Beach.
“Yeah, here’s good,” Brock says.
We spread our things out, and then he falls onto his towel. “Time to take that dress off, Tully Pocket.” He taps my towel laid out next to him, and he throws me a cheeky smile.
I smirk. “Have you been waiting all morning just to see me in a bikini?”
“You bet I have,” he replies without hesitation.
My stomach dances with nerves. God, no pressure. I exhale heavily and lift my dress over my shoulders, and he lies back and puts his hands behind his head to appreciate the show.
I feel like a circus act, and I’m quite sure he thinks he is getting more to look at than he actually is. Does he even remember what I look like? I glance down at him nervously, just as his hungry eyes decide to drink in every inch of my near-naked body. Time seems to stand still as I wait for him to say something.
“You’re more beautiful than I remember, Pock,” he says softly. He pats the sand next to him, and I slowly sit down, and then lie on my back. He leans up on his elbow over me, turning onto his side.
His hand goes to my hip bone, and he pulls my body to fit snug up against his. “Why were you nervous doing that?” he asks quietly.
“You make me nervous.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “You’re so much more experienced than I am.”
He frowns down at me and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “Does it bother you?”
“A little,” I whisper.
“Why?”
My eyes hold his. How the hell did we get onto this conversation already?
“I’ve only ever slept with one person, and then….” My voice trails off.
“And then what?”
“And then you.”
His face falls slightly. “I hate that I did that to you in the gym.”
Shocked that he acknowledged it, my stupid eyes fill with tears, and I blink them away in hope that he doesn’t see.
“Hey,” he whispers as he pulls me closer. “Was it really that bad?”
I smile and shake my head. “No, it was… it was just out of character for me, and I know that you do that kind of thing all the time.”
He watches me for a moment but doesn’t say anything, because he knows it’s true. What is there to say?
He puts his head down onto his towel for a moment, his thoughts loud but undecipherable. “Where do you see this going, Tull?” He frowns up at the sky, deep in thought. “I don’t want you to ever feel like that again.”
“What? You mean us?” I ask.
He nods as he turns his head to look at my face again.
“Well, as the boss of us…” He rolls his eyes with a smirk. “I would like us to be... friends.”
He smiles softly.
“With a mutual respect for one another,” I add.
“Who fuck?” he adds, pushing his luck.
I giggle. “You really need to work on your romantic date material.”
He chuckles. “Without a doubt.”
“I don’t know about the fucking.”
His face falls serious. “Why not?”
I frown as I look out over the water. “I don’t like the idea of being one of many.”
He frowns.
“But then, I don’t want to be your girlfriend or anything.” I shrug. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Try,” he says as watches me intently, his large hand splaying over my stomach.
“Well, I know we have an expiration date, and it’s not like I’m planning a future with you or anything. You’re not the kind of guy that will settle down and I’m not the kind of girl who would force you to.”
“I like that about you.” He kisses my cheek softly. “But…?”
My stomach clenches at the feel of his big, beautiful lips against my skin. “But, I’m really, really attracted to you.”
“And I’m really attracted to you,” he whispers against my face.
“And you confuse me,” I admit.
His hand goes to my jaw and he brings my face to his. “Why?”
Suddenly, we are the only two people on the beach. Nobody else exists again.
“Because you’re the kind of man who doesn’t hang out with girls like me. I have to wonder what I could offer you that nobody else can. I’m inexperienced, and I don’t know how to do any of the things you probably like to do.”
He smiles softly as his lips drop to mine, he kisses me, and my breath catches.
He rubs my stomach with his open hand. “The only woman on my mind is you. Have been for a few weeks.”
I smile softly up at him.
“And I want you to be comfortable with this.” He frowns as he turns and glances across the beach. “When you told me that I made you feel dirty…” He clenches his jaw, clearly remembering that dreaded day, and his eyes come back to mine. “I didn’t like it.”
I wrap my arms around his big shoulders.
“So… how about we kiss and do things that make you feel…” he tilts his head to the side, “clean.”
“I feel like I’m negotiati
ng a cleaning contract.”
He rolls on top of me and pins my hands over my head. “You are. And as the operations manager, it is my duty to inform you that you need to undertake an intensive training regime. Starting today. You need to learn the cleaning protocol.”
I giggle up at him. “I’m the boss, remember? I set the protocol.”
His eyes dance with mischief as he looks down at me. “The boss of us, not the boss of operations. Physical contact is my domain.”
I smile goofily.
“You ready to start your training, Pock?”
I kiss him softly on the lips and he releases me from his grip, allowing me to wrap my arms around him. He buries his head into the curve of my neck. “You know we are on a public beach, right?” I whisper.
“Tully. The first lesson you need to learn is that I don’t give a fuck where we are. I’ll touch you when I want, wherever I want.” He kisses on the lips again and grips my jaw. “Got that?”
I smile shyly. What the hell did I just agree to?
It’s 5:00 p.m. and we are in a cocktail bar at the beach. We’re still in our beach clothes, the two of us relaxed and very touchy with one another. I feel better after our little talk this morning. He knows how I feel now, and he seemed okay with it.
“Do you want to dance?” he asks suddenly.
My eyes widen in excitement. “Really?”
He smiles sexily and takes my hand to lead me to the dance floor where he puts his large arounds around me and pulls me close. The song “Girl Like You” by Maroon 5 is playing. I love this song, and it seems funny that this is the song we should have our first dance to.
I’m beaming up at him. “You can dance?”
“Maybe it’s time to try new things.” He smirks down at me.
“Such as?”
It doesn’t seem real being here with such a gorgeous man. All day I’ve felt women’s eyes lingering on him. He doesn’t seem to notice, though, and I know he’s had this kind of female attention all of his life.
We kiss again and again, and he holds me tight. “I’ll make a deal with you, Tully Pocket,” he whispers.
“What?” I breathe.
His dark hair is hanging over his eyes as he looks down at me.
“While we see each other, whether that be for a week or for a month, I promise not to see anybody else.”
