Wild Man

by Kristen Ashley

  She studied my face, nodded, and didn’t delay in dashing out and closing the door behind her.

  I pulled out my phone, called Brock and held it to my ear as I dumped my purse and the folder and envelope on my desk.

  “Babe,” he answered as I opened the folder.

  “I got a surprise visitor at the shop today,” I told him and didn’t make him wait. “Dade came by.”

  “Shit,” he clipped.

  “No,” I said quickly, turned over some papers, and went mute at seeing a photo of Olivia doing it doggie style with a very muscled young man at least twenty years her junior. I also noted that repeated commentary from Brock was proved irrevocably correct through photo evidence. She was beautiful but she was bony.

  Ick.

  “Tess?” Brock called, his voice terse.

  I slapped the folder closed and grunted, “Ugh.”

  “Babe, what the fuck?”

  “Um… wait a sec while my retinas recover from being seared.”

  “Tess,” he growled.

  Crap. Time to pull it together.

  “Honey, Dade just gave me copies of his private investigator’s reports and photos as well as a sworn affidavit as to Olivia’s behavior after their marriage as it pertains to the boys. He’s going to be contacting your attorneys to tell them he will stand as a witness to her unsuitability to parent. And, if what I just saw does not set her attorneys scrambling to give you everything you want, he’s going to talk to some of his buds who ‘wear robes and command gavels,’ his words, to see that this nightmare is sorted out sooner not later.”

  Brock was silent.

  Then he asked, “What did you just see?”

  “Let’s just say what I saw means you aren’t getting one of your favorite positions for a long time because it might take eternity for the image of her getting boinked, by what appeared to be her boy toy, to heal, considering it’s burned like acid on my brain.”

  More silence then, “No shit?”

  “Would I shit about that?” I asked and then I answered before he could. “No.”

  “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, sounding shocked but also pleased.

  I sucked in a breath.

  Then I told him softly, “He cares a great deal about Joey and Rex.”

  A pause, and then, “Yeah. The boys think he’s the shit too.”

  This was good.

  “Do you want me to bring these to you at the station or do you want me to drop them by your attorney’s office?” I offered.

  “You got the time, take them to Smith. If you don’t, I’ll try to get away and take them myself.”

  “I’ll carve out the time.”

  Another pause, then, “Thanks, sweetness.”

  “My pleasure,” I said with feeling, then asked, “Do you drink champagne?”

  “If I have to,” he answered and I started laughing.

  Through my laughter I told him, “Well, tonight, you have to. We have things to celebrate, baby.”

  “Fuckin’ finally.”

  “Yeah,” I whispered.

  Then he commenced in rocking my world.

  “You got a lot on your plate and on your mind but I hope to God what McManus gave you means there’s no time to waste. So, if my boys make a move it’s probably best for them that they make a permanent one, not one that leads to two. A buddy of mine in the unit just left his wife, moved in with his brother and sister-in-law. He’s not a big fan of his sister-in-law and only a slightly bigger fan of his brother. He’s lookin’ and he’d sublet from me. He left with nothin’ but suitcases so he’ll sublet furnished, which’ll give us time to sort out two houses full of stuff. And it’s time we put this two house bullshit to rest, babe. It’s gonna happen eventually, it might as well happen now.”

  My heart started hammering in my chest and I whispered, “Now?”

  “Now,” he stated firmly.

  I stared at my desk.

  “Tess?”

  I kept staring at my desk.

  “Baby, you there?”

  I kept right on staring at my desk.

  “Tess, baby, talk to me.”

  The joyful sob hitched audibly in my throat before I declared, “You better drink champagne tonight.”

  Brock was silent for a moment before he said gently, “I take it I’m movin’ in.”

  “Fuck yes!” I cried and another happy sob hitched audibly in my throat.

  Brock expressed his happiness through a deep chuckle.

  I swiped at my wet cheeks and told him, “I wish this wasn’t happening over the phone so I could kiss you.”

  “You can kiss me tonight.”

  “Hard,” I clarified.

  “Hard,” he rumbled through another chuckle.

  I sucked in a calming breath. Then I whispered, “I love you.”

  “Yeah, sweetness, me too.”

  “I’ll get this over to your attorneys.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  “See you tonight.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Bye, honey.”

  “Later, babe.”

  We disconnected.

  I stared at the envelope and folder.

  Then I put my phone on the desk, looked to the door, and shouted, “Martha!”

  * * *

  “Brock,” I breathed then his mouth went away.

  I whimpered my protest but his hands went to my hips, rolled me to my belly. They went back to my hips and he hauled me up to my knees.

  Then he was between them. Instead of his tongue darting inside me, his cock thrust there.

  My head flew back and I went up to my hands, totally in the zone, totally loving this, totally not thinking of Olivia at all.

  He kept thrusting as his hands slid from my hips, up my waist, in, over my ribs to cup my breasts then he tugged on my nipples and that felt fucking great so I moaned.

  “Love your tits,” he grunted, still pounding hard and deep.

  “Baby,” I whispered.

  His hands slid back to my hips, clenched my flesh, and pulled them in to meet his thrusts.

  “Love this cunt,” he growled.

  “Oh my God,” I gasped.

  “Hurry, sweetness,” he urged, voice thick.

  “Yeah,” I whispered.

  The pounding got faster, harder, his hands jerking my hips back to meet each one.

  “Hurry, baby,” he semirepeated, his voice now hoarse but he didn’t have to say it. I was hurrying, so much, I’d hurried and it was on me.

  “Brock,” I breathed, then gasped, then moaned, back arching to the bed, ass to the ceiling as it thundered through me.

  “Fuck yeah,” he grunted, going deeper, harder, faster, five thrusts then he was there, joining me.

  When we were coming down, silently and gently, he moved in and out and, silently and happily, I let him and enjoyed every stroke.

  After a while, he pulled out. His hands glided down my sides and in, pulling me up in front of him until I was on my knees, my back pressed to his front. His fingers fisted in the little, slinky, sexy dress that Brock liked, like, a lot, that was bunched at my waist and he pulled it up. I lifted my arms for him. He yanked it free and tossed it to the side of the bed.

  His face went into my neck as his hands roamed my body and, against my skin, he murmured, “Love you, baby.”

  I lifted an arm to glide my fingers in his hair and whispered back, “Love you too, Brock.”

  Carefully, he turned me and deposited me on my back in the bed and then turned his attention to the strappy, high-heeled sandals I still wore. One by one, he unbuckled them and they joined my dress on the floor. But after each one he kissed the inside of my ankle.

  Once he was done, he moved his body to cover mine and I moved my legs to surround him, one around his ass, one I curved around the back of his thigh and I did this as my arms circled him, holding tight.

  Brock put some weight into his forearm but his other hand came to my face and he traced it with his finger
tips while I traced his with my eyes.

  “You know,” I whispered and his silvery-gray eyes came to mine. “The first time we were together, after you made me come, I looked at you and my first thought was how beautiful you were.”

  His fingers stopped moving, his eyes closed, and his forehead came to mine and when he groaned, “Tess,” I knew it came from his gut because I felt it in mine.

  My fingers slid into his hair and my lips went to his cheek. I moved them across, lifting my head and, in his ear, I kept whispering.

  “And the way you were looking at me, I knew in my blood you were mine.”

  “You were right, sweetness,” he whispered back.

  Then he kissed my neck, lifted his head again. I dropped mine and both my arms gave him a squeeze.

  “Thanks for drinking champagne with me.”

  “Thanks for makin’ me drink only a glass so I could move on to beer.”

  I smiled at him and his eyes dropped to my mouth.

  They came back to mine and I felt my body still at what I saw.

  Then he spoke words that described the feeling I saw in his eyes.

  “My dad was a dick. I grew up fast. I lost Bree the way I did and lost all our history with her. And I found Olivia and she made my life shit. Then I had a job where you wouldn’t believe the shit I saw, the shit I did, and I hope to God, baby, you never get to a place you do. But all that was worth it, all of it, since my reward is you.”

  “Shut up,” I whispered. I didn’t know why, it just came out of my mouth but what he said meant so much, it filled me so full, it felt like I was going to burst.

  A beautiful pain.

  But he didn’t shut up.

  Instead, he went on. “McManus said he started with a good one and I was lucky I was ending with one and he was not fuckin’ wrong.”

  Both my hands moved to either side of his face and I begged, “Please, Brock, be quiet.”

  “No fuckin’ way, baby,” he whispered. “Today, I been thinkin’ a lot about McManus and he lost his good one and there is no way I’m gonna find mine and not know right to my fuckin’ bones she doesn’t understand precisely what she means to me.”

  I felt the tears well then slide out the sides of my eyes as my thumbs moved over his cheeks and I told him, “Well, I’m lucky too. I had it shit for a while and I found you.”

  He shook his head and his hand captured mine. He turned his head and pressed my palm to his lips where he kissed me and then his fingers curled around mine and he held my hand to his shoulder.

  “It isn’t the same. You’re made of sugar, Tess, and it’s a given you’d eventually get it good because people like you, sweet to the core, they deserve it. What I’m sayin’ is I’m glad I’m the one who gets to give it to you.”

  Oh God. I loved this man.

  “You’re sweet too.”

  He grinned.

  Then he muttered, “I see, all this time, you still don’t know me.”

  I didn’t grin. My hand tensed on his face as the other one clenched in his.

  “You’re a manly, macho, rough, wild, hot guy kind of sweet but you’re sweet. I’m a mountainous swirl of frosting with a moist, rich cake as my core but you’re smooth, delicious dark chocolate that tastes good from the second it hits your tongue and makes you want more the minute it melts away.”

  His grin got bigger. “Shit, Tess, you’re makin’ me hard again.”

  I took my hand from his face and slapped his shoulder, snapping, “I’m being serious.”

  His grin faded clean away and his mercury eyes locked with mine.

  Then he whispered, “I know.”

  I stared in his eyes and what Vance said hit me as truth so pure and undiluted, it felt like I was touched by a rainbow.

  Vance thought he was the lucky one that he had his wife, and one of the reasons he thought that was because he knew she felt like she was the lucky one.

  And I was lucky and so was Brock.

  “We should go to Vegas,” I announced. “We’re on a streak.”

  His brows drew together. “Babe, not sure you’re payin’ attention, but shit that’s flyin’ around us does not say ‘winning streak.’ ”

  “I’ve got a naked hot-guy bad boy on top of me who proves you wrong.”

  At that, his brows relaxed and he smiled.

  Then I informed him, “You and your boys’ birthdays are next week and I’m telling you now I’m giving you and the boys an all-inclusive, five-star beach getaway for spring break for all your birthdays and I’m not taking any lip and I don’t care the shit that’s swirling. We’re going no matter what.”

  His smile didn’t die when he said, “We’ll talk about it later.”

  “We won’t. I’m doing this.”

  That’s when his smile faded. “Babe, you’re not payin’ for me and my boys to go on vacation.”

  “Honey, I need a vacation, you need a vacation, and the boys freaking need a vacation. So much, it’s got to be a really, really good one. And I don’t bust my hump baking cakes not to live the good life and give it to those I love. So I’m going to give it to those I love.”

  “You got a bakery to launch.”

  “I got a vacation to take.”

  He held my eyes and I held his right back.

  Then he decreed, “I’ll buy the plane tickets.”

  “Brock—” I started to protest but he talked over me.

  “Tess, I’ll… buy… the plane tickets.”

  He was being firm in that way of his I knew he was taking charge of his woman so that firm was unyielding.

  “Oh, all right,” I gave in and he grinned again.

  His head dipped so his mouth was at my ear. “Now, let’s go back to me bein’ like chocolate that melts in your mouth.”

  “That isn’t exactly what I meant,” I told him. His arms went around me and he rolled to his back, taking me with him.

  Then his hand sifted into my hair, fisted gently, and my head came up.

  “I would hope not, darlin’, seein’ as every time you take me in your mouth, the last thing I do is melt.”

  Hmm.

  This was very true.

  “This is true.”

  And, again, he grinned.

  And, it must be said, I liked it when my man grinned.

  Then he brought my mouth down to his. He kissed me hard and I kissed him harder.

  Then I took my time kissing other parts of him.

  And when I did, those parts did not melt.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Quiet Like

  “THANK YOU,” I mouthed to the clerk at Dillard’s in Park Meadows Mall who was handing me my bag, which held six pairs of boys swim trunks. This purchase was made because, in two days, Brock, Joey, Rex, and I were boarding a plane headed for Aruba and I’d found upon asking them to check that the boys were growing so fast none of their old swim trunks fit.

  The clerk smiled at me as I turned away and I smiled back. I had my phone to my ear and a man named Raul was talking to me through it.

  “It’s going to take another week,” he said.

  “Um…” I started, moving through the store and already feeling Brock getting pissed even though he wasn’t there. In fact, he was nowhere near and he didn’t know that the contractor we hired to renovate my basement in order to build another bedroom downstairs was delaying even further.

  However, since we contacted Raul the last week in February, this was the third delay, taking us to the last week in March. Brock was not happy with the first delay. He was unhappier with the second and I had a feeling his unhappiness would significantly escalate with this one.

  We needed this room because Olivia had caved, or, at least her attorneys had talked her into doing so mostly because, with Dade out of the picture, if she racked up a huge bill fighting a case she had no hope of winning, there was no one around to pay it.

  The stuff Dade gave Brock was useful but even without it, Hector had dug up so much dirt on her, Brock was
sure to win. Hector had found they were often late to school and they were often hanging around after school because she was late picking them up.

  Furthermore, Olivia had not made loads of friends among the other mothers and therefore these mothers had happily chitchatted with hot-guy Hector, telling tales of Olivia dropping the boys off late and then not staying at the boys’ junior football and little league games or calling random moms at the last minute during the game to ask another mom to take the boys home and she’d pick them up later and her later meant later. Sometimes, the boys would be asleep at their friends’ houses before Olivia would show, which meant she left them for hours.

  And when she did all this, she was not at the soup kitchen spreading her benevolence among those less fortunate, but shopping or getting laid by her bevy of boy toys.

  Of this, Hector, too, had photographic proof.

  Luckily, I did not see Hector’s proof. Unluckily, Hector had to, considering he took the photos, and his face upon handing over the evidence to a Brock, who was even unhappier to learn that his ex was less of a mother than he thought, shared the knowledge that Hector was of the same opinion as his bad-boy brethren that bony wasn’t beautiful.

  So, the papers had been drawn up, everyone signed them, a judge stamped his approval, and the boys’ custody flip-flopped. Olivia had them every other weekend. Brock and I had them the rest of the time. Therefore, he wanted them settled in what would be their permanent rooms.

  The first delay on the renovation meant that when they moved in with us, Rex had moved into my office upstairs that we converted to a bedroom and Joel into the guest bedroom (now his bedroom) downstairs.

  This was something Brock did not like because it didn’t say to Rex, “You’re home and settled.” He also didn’t like it because Rex was right next door to our room. The walls weren’t paper thin but they weren’t soundproof either and the reasons he didn’t like that were obvious. But there Rex was—a bathroom and hallway away.

  Olivia was also coping with a move but hers would have been more settled if she was less, well… her. Dade had paid six months advance rent on a furnished, two-bedroom apartment for her. When he came into my bakery a few days after Olivia had left, he told me he’d done this for Joel and Rex and I figured this was true. But I knew it was also because he was a good man and if he tried to do something pure asshole, like kick her out on her ass without any support (even if she did deserve it), he’d probably spontaneously combust or something.