The man was perfect. And he was hers.
She reached for him. “Make love to me, Brock.”
Desire sparkled in his green eyes as he put one knee into the bed and covered her.
“Move into my room,” he said, hovering above her, his lips just inches from hers. It wasn’t a request. But she was used to his bossy alpha-hole ways, and for the most part, they only turned her on more.
She gazed up at him. This was the man she was falling for. Her mouth quirked up into a grin. “So we’re boyfriend and girlfriend?”
He grunted and let the tip of his cock brush her clit. Oh, he was playing dirty now. “Sleep here tonight,” he said. “Move into my room.” He did one of his signature hip swirls and she nearly combusted on the spot.
“Why?”
“Because.” He pushed deeper inside her. “I don’t like you being across the hall.”
“You like me in your bed?” she teased, squeezing her muscles around him. “Easy access?”
He pushed forward until he was all the way inside. They both let out contented sighs. Languidly, almost torturously slow, he began to thrust.
“I like you here. You belong here.”
“I belong here,” she said, more to herself than anything.
Until the police force, Krista had never really felt as though she belonged anywhere. She wasn’t like the other kids in high school or even her older brother. She’d always felt like a bit of a screwup or a black sheep compared with everyone else. But with the RCMP, she belonged. And now, with Brock, as hisgirlfriend, in his house, carrying his baby, she felt like she belonged. She was part of something. This was where she was meant to be. In his house. In his bed. Beneathhim.Withhim.
“You belong here,” he repeated, his eyes not leaving her face. “You belong with me.”
Chapter 13
Brock was disappointed when Krista rushed off to work the following morning. He had the day off and hoped they could spend the majority of it in bed. Lord knows he’d grown to love nothing more than hammering her into the mattress until she passed out from exhaustion with a smile on her face.
She loved the nursery, loved the star for their baby and had agreed to move into his bedroom. Despite the fact that he knew she’d be seeing Slade today at work, he was in a pretty decent mood. His mother had also confided in him, as he and Krista were leaving the house the night before, that she was smitten with his new “roommate” and couldn’t imagine a better suited woman to “exorcise the miserable” out of him.
Jeez, thanks, Mum.
Chase came by shortly after Krista left, and the two spent a couple of hours downstairs in Brock’s home gym, neither of them saying much, which was how they both preferred it.
Afterward, he showered, shaved and then spent the rest of the day cleaning the house. He had a housekeeper, but Marlena was on vacation, and shit still needed to get done, so as much as he loathed it, he knew Krista would appreciate it. Then he moved the rest of her things into his room. If she was going to live in his room, she was going to do it properly, girlie shit and all. After all her clothes were put away, he chucked out some of his own shit, tossing it into storage under the stairs. He made a new stir-fry from his cookbook and then sat and waitedfor her to come home.
Brock drummed his fingers on the armrest of his La-Z-Boy as he tipped up a bottle of beer into his mouth with his other hand. He glanced at the clock above the mantle. Where was she? She only worked until five, and it was almost six. Was everything okay? Was she okay? Was the baby okay? There was still a fair bit of snow on the roads, and in their neck of the woods, the plow only bothered clearing one lane. What if she’d been in an accident?
Fear, anger, frustration and worry gnawed at the back of his neck like a rabid badger until he felt it all the way down his spine. Where the fuck was she?
It wasn’t until he heard the lock in the door that he realized he’d been gripping the armrest so tightly, his hand was cramping and his heart beat wildly in his chest.
“Get a fucking grip,” he murmured, not wanting her to see him sitting herewaiting for her like some lapdog. He was no fucking lap dog.
“Hello?” she called, the sounds of her hanging up her coat and ditching her boots following her greeting up the stairs.
He grunted and pushed himself up from his seat, wandering over to the top of the stairs to look down at her. She looked exhausted.
“You’re late,” he said with another grunt.
Ascending the stairs, she rolled her eyes. “So? It’s snowy out there, and I had to finish processing someone. Just because the clock strikes five doesn’t necessarily mean my day is over. If I’m in the middle of something I finish it.” She lifted her head and wrinkled her nose. “Mmm, something smells good.”
Damn her fucking cuteness. He turned away from her and glanced at the news on the television. “Call next time.”
Her exasperated sigh niggled more frustration at the back of his neck. Why did everything have to be a fight? Why couldn’t she just do what she was told?
