playing about her lips.
“So she’s turning you away?” Brock didn’t like the thread of laughter in her voice. His eyes narrowed. “You’re making fun of me, Munchkin. That’s dangerous right now.”
He was hard and hurting and more than willing to drag her out of that damned bathtub without Cade’s presence if she pushed him too far. He knew he had Cade’s approval to do so. There would be no hard feelings, no anger. But neither would there be the bonding he needed when it occurred.
She rolled her eyes, settling against the back of the tub as she watched him.
“You can’t seduce an unwilling woman, Brock,” she told him, finally serious. “If she doesn’t want you, then there’s nothing you can do.”
“But she does want me,” he told her carefully. “She’s just frightened, Marly. She’s heard the rumors, she knows about us. Hell, most people do, we’re just too damned rich for them to use it against us. That’s what I have to fight.”
Her face flushed. She wasn’t comfortable with that knowledge, he knew. He wasn’t comfortable with it, but he accepted it. He denied it when he needed to, admitted it when he had to, but he wasn’t ashamed of it. He was alive, and reasonably sane for it, so he had no choice but to accept it. Cade fought his shame on a daily basis, and Brock Lora Leigh
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understood that. The weight of the acts the older brother had been forced into had nearly killed them all. Sam, Brock was never certain of Sam. He appeared the least scarred inside, though the most scarred bodily. He laughed, he played pranks and seemed to be little more than a boy in a grown man’s body at times. He was hard to figure out, but Brock knew he hurt too. It was there sometimes, when Sam thought no one else could see. In the set of his shoulders, the shadows of his eyes, it was there.
“So if she wants you and you want her, and she knows the truth, then what’s the problem?” Marly asked curiously. “She’s not here and you are. Though I knew you intended to move out, so evidently she ran your ass off. Would she do that if she wanted you?”
Brock sighed. Marly was intent on being difficult today.
“She wants me. Bad.” He flashed her a confident smile. “It’s Sam and Cade she’s scared of, Munchkin. You have enough sense to know that.”
Marly lost her smile. She frowned at him, a clear reluctance to discuss this subject evident in her expression.
“Marly,” his voice was gentle, chiding. “Didn’t you think Sam or myself would ever fall in love?”
The feminine growl, low and frustrated, had his lips quirking into a smile.
“He’s still my lover, Brock,” she declared mutinously. “I don’t want to share him.”
“He shares you,” Brock pointed out. “And don’t try to say you don’t enjoy it.”
“That’s not the point, Brock.” She closed her eyes, sighing heavily. “Not one of you will explain this to me. Not in any way. Yet you expect me to willingly accept it. If Cade wants to continue in his stubbornness and not confide in me, then I can continue in mine.”
“Even knowing how much it hurts him?” Brock asked her, trying to keep his voice gentle.
She looked up at him, her deep blue eyes shadowed, regret and resignation swirling in her expression.
“What about my hurt, Brock?” she asked him, her voice quiet. “He beat the shit out of Rick because Tara told me as much as she did, which was damned little. He becomes furious if I question him about it. He has nightmares and begs brokenly in his sleep and he refuses to let me help him. Do you think this is just about whether or not he fucks the woman you love?”
Brock’s cock went to instant attention at those words. Damn. There were times he hated his more than willing flesh. It was causing him more problems than he needed.
“Look at you.” She nodded at the erection straining his casual pants. “Just the thought of it has you hard as a rock, just as it gets Cade.
“So she’s turning you away?” Brock didn’t like the thread of laughter in her voice. His eyes narrowed. “You’re making fun of me, Munchkin. That’s dangerous right now.”
He was hard and hurting and more than willing to drag her out of that damned bathtub without Cade’s presence if she pushed him too far. He knew he had Cade’s approval to do so. There would be no hard feelings, no anger. But neither would there be the bonding he needed when it occurred.
She rolled her eyes, settling against the back of the tub as she watched him.
“You can’t seduce an unwilling woman, Brock,” she told him, finally serious. “If she doesn’t want you, then there’s nothing you can do.”
“But she does want me,” he told her carefully. “She’s just frightened, Marly. She’s heard the rumors, she knows about us. Hell, most people do, we’re just too damned rich for them to use it against us. That’s what I have to fight.”
Her face flushed. She wasn’t comfortable with that knowledge, he knew. He wasn’t comfortable with it, but he accepted it. He denied it when he needed to, admitted it when he had to, but he wasn’t ashamed of it. He was alive, and reasonably sane for it, so he had no choice but to accept it. Cade fought his shame on a daily basis, and Brock Lora Leigh
Sarah’s Seduction
59
understood that. The weight of the acts the older brother had been forced into had nearly killed them all. Sam, Brock was never certain of Sam. He appeared the least scarred inside, though the most scarred bodily. He laughed, he played pranks and seemed to be little more than a boy in a grown man’s body at times. He was hard to figure out, but Brock knew he hurt too. It was there sometimes, when Sam thought no one else could see. In the set of his shoulders, the shadows of his eyes, it was there.
“So if she wants you and you want her, and she knows the truth, then what’s the problem?” Marly asked curiously. “She’s not here and you are. Though I knew you intended to move out, so evidently she ran your ass off. Would she do that if she wanted you?”
Brock sighed. Marly was intent on being difficult today.
“She wants me. Bad.” He flashed her a confident smile. “It’s Sam and Cade she’s scared of, Munchkin. You have enough sense to know that.”
Marly lost her smile. She frowned at him, a clear reluctance to discuss this subject evident in her expression.
“Marly,” his voice was gentle, chiding. “Didn’t you think Sam or myself would ever fall in love?”
The feminine growl, low and frustrated, had his lips quirking into a smile.
“He’s still my lover, Brock,” she declared mutinously. “I don’t want to share him.”
“He shares you,” Brock pointed out. “And don’t try to say you don’t enjoy it.”
“That’s not the point, Brock.” She closed her eyes, sighing heavily. “Not one of you will explain this to me. Not in any way. Yet you expect me to willingly accept it. If Cade wants to continue in his stubbornness and not confide in me, then I can continue in mine.”
“Even knowing how much it hurts him?” Brock asked her, trying to keep his voice gentle.
She looked up at him, her deep blue eyes shadowed, regret and resignation swirling in her expression.
“What about my hurt, Brock?” she asked him, her voice quiet. “He beat the shit out of Rick because Tara told me as much as she did, which was damned little. He becomes furious if I question him about it. He has nightmares and begs brokenly in his sleep and he refuses to let me help him. Do you think this is just about whether or not he fucks the woman you love?”
Brock’s cock went to instant attention at those words. Damn. There were times he hated his more than willing flesh. It was causing him more problems than he needed.
“Look at you.” She nodded at the erection straining his casual pants. “Just the thought of it has you hard as a rock, just as it gets Cade.
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