As she opened the front door, the sounds of grunts and rhythmic pounding filled her ears, and they seemed to be coming from downstairs. She knew there was a home gym down here but hadn’t actually checked it out yet. There were a few rooms with closed doors, and not wanting to be too snoopy, she hadn’t bothered to open them.
The father of her child would tell her if he had a weapons or torture room, right?
Kicking off her shoes and slipping into her slippers, she hung up her coat, then took off in the direction of the noise.
The dimly lit hallway strained her eyes compared with the bright and spacious upstairs, and before long, she found herself feeling claustrophobic. All the doors were closed. She needed to open one soon. Reaching the door where the pounding and grunts were coming from, she hesitantly turned the knob,only to come face-to-face with one of the sexiest things she’d ever seen: Wearing headphones and no shirt, sporting boxing gloves and a glistening sweat that defined each and every muscle to chiseled perfection, Brock was kicking the shit out of a punching bag.
His back was to her, and there were no mirrors, so she took the opportunity to just watch for a moment. Revel in the way his arms and torso bunched and contracted each time his monstrous fist made contact with the bag. Even his back was magnificent.
She licked her lips and followed the line of his body past his shorts to his strong, powerful calves as he hopped back and forth on each foot like an agile fighter. Then without any warning, his body lurched up and leaned over as his foot made wicked contact with the bag, sending it flying backward. Krista gasped in surprise and shifted where she stood, her lady parts tingling the longer she watched.
Brock circled around the bag and lifted his head, and that’s when he noticed her. His green eyes glowed under the harsh fluorescent lights, and those sexy lips that knew all too well how to make her burn tilted up into a cocky little smirk. “How long you been standing there?”
She strode forward, confidence in her gait. His hands were in the gloves, so he couldn’t remove the earbuds, so she did it for him, even loving the way he smelled after a workout. All man. All Brock.
“Hmm?” he hummed. “You like what you see?”
They were less than a foot apart, and her entire body was on fire. Oh yeah, she liked what she saw. She liked it a lot. She wanted to lick him like a goddamn soft-serve cone dipped in Belgian chocolate.
“I owe you an apology,” she said softly, resting her hands on his shoulders.
“Yeah?”
She nodded, resisting the urge to run her hands up into his hair. “Turns out you were right.”
Interest piqued in those gorgeous green orbs of his. “Not very often that I’m not, but go on.”
She snorted a laugh and swatted him gently on the ear. “About my parents. I called and told my mum today. She was very supportive and said she’s proud of the person I’ve become.” Emotion clawed at the back of Krista’s throat at the memory of her phone conversation with her mother. It had been a really good talk. She hoped to have more just like them. A lot more.
Amusement and happiness filled Brock’s eyes. “See? I told you.”
“You did.”
“So you’ve come here to … ”
“Eat crow.”
His gloved hands fell to her waist, and he pulled her against his hard, sweaty body. “Hmm, crow, eh?” She melted into him. It didn’t matter that he was damp from his workout. They could have a shower together and get clean. His lips hovered just over hers. “I think I’d prefer to take you upstairs in the shower than force you to eat some disgusting bird.”
She hummed softly and flicked her tongue out against his salty lips. “That sounds good. I’d definitely prefer something else in my mouth.”
He growled above her. “Oh, baby, that can be arranged.” And instead of kissing her, with gloves on and all, he scooped her up and carried her upstairs.
Chapter 15
After a sexy shower where Krista let Brock gloat just a little, they shared a much more pleasant dinner than the previous night of leftover stir-fry and then watched television in companionable silence until Krista’s eyelids were droopy.
She was just drawing back the covers on the bed when Brock stalked in, pulled his shirt off and went to work on his jeans. Like a well-trained soldier, he tossed everything into the laundry hamper and put his watch down in the same place as always, followed by his phone and wallet. The man was nothing if not disciplined and a creature of habit. Everything had a place; everything had a purpose.
She’d been taken aback when she first moved in by just how clean he was, how spotless his house seemed. Curt had been a slob, so the military level of tidiness in Brock’s home was alarming. Though he’d quickly confided that it wasn’t all him. He had a housekeeper, Marlena, who came once a week to tidy and do the floors and bathrooms.
It didn’t mean Brock still wasn’t a bit of a neat freak who gave her the stink-eye when she set her water glass down on his oak coffee table without a coaster.
“I’m the boss tonight,” he said gruffly, dragging his side of the duvet down and sliding between the sheets. He hadn’t bothered with boxers, and she could already see his erection springing to virile life.
Her eyebrows flew up. “Is that so? Seems to me you werethe bossearlier today. I think it’s my turn. If that’s what we’re doing here, switching?”
He shook his head. “Today was different. You were apologizing.”
