Gym Junkie

“J-Jesus,” I stammer. “What are you, like, a decorator or something?”

He smiles proudly. “Look at this.” He pulls back a curtain at the side of his bedroom, and I see the whole wall has been removed into the terrace next door.

“I just bought the terrace next door. I’m going to join the two together.”

My eyes widen.

“Bottom level will be kitchen and living area, and then the two top levels next door will be bedrooms.”

He takes my hand and leads me through to the other terrace. I smile to myself, watching him get all animated as he shows me through the dingy apartment.

“Was yours in this state when you bought it?” I ask.

“Mine was worse. I had to basically gut it.”

“You did all this yourself?”

“Yeah, my sisters helped with the styling and furnishings.”

This is the third time he has mentioned his sisters. “You’re close with your sisters?” I ask.

He smiles softly, and I know they get the best of him. “Yeah, they’re pretty cool chicks.”

I narrow my eyes as I try to remember their story. “Did you say they were married?” All I remember about them was that they were very attractive and married to holy hot men.

“Yeah, Natasha, my older sister, is married to a super-rich dude. His name is Joshua Stanton, and they live between here and L.A. Bridget, my younger sister, is married to one of my best friends. He works for me. You met him. Ben, the guy from the gym.”

“I remember. How did it feel when your younger sister hooked up with one of your best friends?”

“I met him through her.” He shrugs. “Well, not really, He was Natasha’s husband’s bodyguard.”

I frown. “Joshua has bodyguards?”

“Yeah. They are, like, mega rich. Millionaires. He’s an app developer.”

“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.”