Tumble Creek (32 page)

Something worked behind Sofie's eyes, but gone in a flash, he didn't get to work out what it was. Nevertheless, it worried him.

What made it more worrying was that Sofie gulped her wine down, then in a hurt, almost accusatory tone, she asked Rafael, ‘But
why
did your Mum keep you away from Brock?'

‘Mum's exact words: “I didn't want my son to follow in his father's footsteps … be a soldier, put himself in danger, witness the horror, have his life forever marked by it.” ' He tilted his head and, eyes glistening with humour, he continued. ‘She also didn't want me to follow in hers.'

‘Yeah, I totally get that,' Brock put in.

‘But that didn't stop me.'

He had no right to influence Rafael. What his son wanted to do with his life was entirely up to him, but still, foreboding tightened Brock's gut and, hands clasped, he couldn't stop himself from edging forward on the couch. ‘What do you mean?'

Rafael squared his shoulders. ‘I'm studying international journalism at City University London.' Even though Brock kept a controlled, blank face, Rafael must've seen something, because he went on to say, ‘Take it easy. I don't intend to put myself in harm's way, unless …' he quietly trailed off.

‘Unless you have a calling, a desire to show an unbiased view to the world what's really going on in a war zone?'

‘Something like that.' One side of Rafael's mouth tweaked up. ‘But, and this is where it gets complicated, my lecturers are saying I should switch to Oxford and study law, specifically human rights law.'

‘
Fuck
,' came out on a breath. Brock, fists clenched on his knees, wanted his son to take that road, but used every ounce of self-control to stay on neutral ground. ‘You can be proud, that's a hell of a recommendation. I wish you all the best whatever you choose.'

Rafael sat back and laughed. ‘Dad, you're a really bad liar. It's okay, Mum's on my case about going to Oxford. She usually wins.'

‘I won't lie, I hope Susanna does win.' Brock chuckled. ‘Actually, unless she's mellowed over the years, you don't stand a chance, mate.'

‘Mum hasn't mellowed, if anything she's even more radical, determined, otherwise she's still the warm, loving person she's always been. She has a syndicated column in the top newspapers, under a pseudonym, Tabatha Shift. Luckily she can work from home.'

‘Why luckily?' Brock wanted to know.

‘Mum has problems with walking, climbing stairs, standing too long. Even after all this time, physically, she tires easily.' Thoughts moving inward, Rafael smiled. ‘Mum may have a few scars, but she's as beautiful as she's always been and still turns heads wherever she goes.'

‘I'm sure she does.' Brock nodded knowingly. ‘Listen, is there anything I can say that would help your mum persuade you? Do you need finance?'

‘No, but thanks for offering. Syndicated columnists do very well.'

‘What about family?' Sofie put in. ‘Does Susanna have a partner?'

‘Yeah, been meaning to ask, does Susanna have a partner?'

Rafael's eyes flicked from Sofie to Brock and back again. ‘No, Mum has a circle of close friends. She never married. She told me once all she needed was me, and her job. We have family scattered everywhere, most of them are in the US, and Genoa, Italy.'

‘Are you staying in town?' Brock asked.

‘I'm at the Creek Motel.'

‘It's a nice enough place, but maybe we can find you something better,' Brock suggested. ‘Can you give me until tomorrow?'

‘Sure, but I'm quite happy there. It's not a problem.'

***

Sofie had insisted Brock take Rafael back to the Sapphire for a good Australian pub meal, alone. He'd argued, but she'd insisted and told him, though Rafael had said he intended to stay for as long as needed, the unknown could force his hand and then he may need to leave the country. Now was his chance to bond with his son, and he should take the opportunity and not let anything get in the way.

During the night, her body dipped as the mattress moved, the covers carefully lifted and Brock slid in behind her. His arm circled her waist, big hand caressing her belly, he pulled her into his front and nuzzled her hair. ‘You were right,' he said, and kissed her neck. ‘We had a good night, talked a lot. Raff is a top bloke.'

‘Yeah, he is. I could tell,' Sofie mumbled, cuddled into him and went back to sleep.

It was one of those mornings after a night where sleep had been so deep it was like only a moment had passed before she woke. She eased her eyes open and discovered that it was already light. There was no warm body cuddling her, Brock was gone. She turned over to snuggle his pillow and found the note he'd left:
On a run with Sarge. B.

Wearing a jumper, fleecy pyjama bottoms, and her usual heavy-duty socks, Sofie padded into the kitchen, and with her head in the pantry, was trying to decide what to have for breakfast when Brock walked in.

‘Hmm … love what you've got on,' he drawled.

She turned to face him. ‘Morning … where's my kiss?'

The glint in his eyes and lopsided grin should've been a warning, but the moment his mouth came down on Sofie's, all thoughts vanished. One of his hands went up under her top, the other down inside the waistband slung low on her hips, feeling her skin.

Sofie pulled back and squealed, ‘Oh my God!' Jumping about she batted at his hands. ‘You're freezing! Get them off me!' She wriggled, managed to free herself and ran down the hall and into the bedroom, Brock hot on her heals, laughing. Sarge, making deep warbling noises much like the cartoon character Scooby-Doo, trotted after Brock. Sofie dived on the bed and quick as a flash rolled herself in all the blankets. Then his heavy weight fell half on the mattress, half on her, his hands looking for a way in. She yanked the covers up over her head shouting, ‘Don't you dare, go warm up, have a shower.'

Brock laughed, tickled her, the bed moved again. Was he lying in wait? Probably. Barely breathing, Sofie listened for any tell-tale noises … nothing. Feeling confident that he was gone, she started to untangle herself from the covers. He grabbed her feet, lifted them, and yanked her socks off. Then Brock rubbed his day-old stubble over the soles of her feet, nipping and kissing her there as well. She squealed, she wriggled … but the best part was, she couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so much.

‘Stop it—stop it!'

Brock planted a couple of kisses on the arches of her feet and put them back on the mattress. Relieved, yet not, because it was so much fun, Sofie smiled and turned to settle on her side.

A mighty thump made the bed move. Sarge had his front paws up and had Brock by a pant leg, making soft, waffly, Scooby-Doo growls of disapproval.

‘It's all right, boy, we're having fun.' Brock turned to rub Sarge's head.

‘Are you going, or do I have to sic my protector on you?'

Brock gave her a wicked look, turned away, and said, ‘Sarge, sit.' And of course he did, his rump hit the floor. ‘Where's Claudia?' Sofie peered over Brock's shoulder as Sarge cocked his head, ears perky, curious eyes on his master, carefully listening. ‘Go find her … and Gypsy.' Sarge made happy noises, and trotted out the door.

‘Well!' Sofie huffed, pretending annoyance.

Brock's powerful arms enveloped her. One slid around her waist, the other under her shoulders. He kissed her neck, and murmured against her skin, ‘I'm a hungry man, but I can't decide whether to eat or—' he nibbled her ear, ‘—take you in the shower.'

Sofie sucked in a breath knowing full well what he was suggesting. Tingling all over, she shivered, and Brock chuckled.

‘Why the shower?' Sofie said breathily, ‘Why not right here on the bed? I'll get the strawberries and cream.' She took his sensuous mouth with hers, wet, hungry, and with plenty of tongue play.

Chest heaving, Brock murmured against her lips, ‘Because I'm sweaty?'

Sofie grinned. ‘Yeah.'

‘And it might even drown out the sexy-as-hell noises you make.'

‘Oh,' she conceded, ‘you have a point.'

His head went back, his throaty chuckle infectious.

Giggling, Sofie turned in his arms, loving the moment: watching him laugh like that without restraint was a beautiful thing to see.

‘Babe, I'm expecting Mum and Dad and Raff in about an hour. Claudia won't sleep through all of that, so she'll be up as well. Then, after yesterday, I expect Michelle to drop by.'

‘Really? Why?' Sofie asked. Brock gave her a look, and she slapped a hand on his chest. ‘Oh,' she breathed, ‘Raffie and Michelle?'

He nodded. ‘Exactly. She's here, without a doubt.'

‘Okay, gotcha, let's go.'

‘This new house
we're
building, better have a parent's retreat at the opposite end of the teenage retreat.' He flung his arm out wide for emphasis, then swiftly brought it under her and lifted her up. Sofie clamped her legs around his hips, and curled her arms around his neck as Brock strode down the hall to the bathroom.

‘Can I just say, you're incredibly hot when you get all caveman.'

‘Uh-huh.' Brock set her down, his hungry, skilful mouth on hers, working quickly to strip her while she stripped him. Naked under the gentle rain-like shower, he started slowly soaping and lathering Sofie's body. Loving the feel of his broad hands sliding over her skin. Her back to his broad chest, her head resting on his pecs, Brock's slick hands slowly went down from her breasts, to her belly, then down to between her thighs and into her folds. His fingers gliding deliciously over the delicate flesh that quickly sent thrills pulsing through her, making her groin, stomach and limbs heavy. He must have sensed she was close, because his hand moved away, and his big palms and fingers caressed up her belly to her breasts, cupping them, finger and thumb pulling her nipples.

‘Oh God,' Sofie cried out.

Brock quickly turned her around and covered her mouth with his, drowning her cries. His hands moved down her back under her bottom and lifted her up. Sofie wrapped her legs around his hips, her arms around his neck, and held on. Brock lightly skimmed his hand, palm flat, down past her cheeks, going further sliding his fingers from her entrance to her swollen nub, spreading her silken wetness.

Her breath short and sharp, Sofie started to rock her hips over his hand.

‘Babe … so fucking hot.' His free arm moved up her back, pushing her front into his. She rocked her shoulders, rubbing her soft breasts and pebbled nipples against his hard chest.

‘God, Brock, do it!' she whispered against his mouth, harsh and needy.

The head of his shaft went in and Sofie pushed down. He filled her. She arched her neck and gasped with pleasure. Understanding his rhythm, she followed, watching his face for signs of heat and passion building in his eyes, which in turn would light her up even more.

He was too good, reaching the zone, turning her liquid, yet she hung on, and on every downward thrust she pushed him deeper and ground her sex into the base of his thick shaft. Bringing her so close with his amazing body, his talented mouth and hands.

He stopped and she wasn't sure she liked that a hell of a lot. Brock, deep inside her, moved Sofie to brace against the tiles. She gripped his shoulders, hanging on, while he protected her back with his free hand, pounding her against the tiles.

Fast, hot, sex—a total turn-on.

‘Brock,' she whimpered, on the verge of oblivion, feeling every inch of him as her muscles clutched around his cock.

‘Fuck you're amazing. I love how your face changes, shows me how much you're enjoying me sliding inside your tight pussy … so beautiful and all mine. Unbelievably mine.' His thumb found her clit, slipping over it, toying with her.

‘Brock,' Sofie warned, trying to stay quiet was difficult. ‘I'm …' Her orgasm hit—pure, body-melting ecstasy. Her muscles clutched his shaft again and again. She tipped her head back and groaned her pleasure into his mouth as her beautiful climax took its time, lingering on. Spectacular. Wonderful.

‘Mouth,' Brock ordered, sending delicious pulses rippling through her thighs, and her entire body. ‘Sofe,' he whispered capturing her mouth, his tongue sweeping in. Brock grunted with every pulse, and thrust as he came, spilling his seed, throbbing inside her. He shoved his face in her neck, and on a husky voice mumbled, ‘Fuck, I love what you do to me … for me … while I'm inside you.'

Sofie giggled. ‘You're my love potion. Not one part of me would work without your hands, your mouth, your
big
beautiful …' she pushed her hand down between them and circled her fingers around the base of his shaft.

‘Yeah, glad you think so.' He chuckled against her skin. ‘Babe, you sound like a phone sex operator.'

‘Ooh, you know about those? This could be a new career move.'

‘Not on your sweet life—on both counts.'

Sofie smiled and kissed his neck. If it hadn't been for Brock's forearm under her bottom, keeping her up, keeping himself inside her, her legs would've given way and she'd be a satisfied tangle of limbs on the floor.

‘Mum—Mum! There's someone at the door. Mum, where the hell are you!?'

‘Shit!' Brock cursed, pulled out and eased Sofie down, holding her to his chest. His voice rumbled in her ear. ‘Next time, before we're in the throes of hot and heavy … I'm going to play loud music. This will be like a red flag warning, do not enter, do not call out and whatever it is, they have to use their wit, their imagination, and deal.'

Sofie covered her mouth and tried to laugh quietly.

She stepped out of the shower cubicle, and as calmly as possible, called out through the bathroom door. ‘Claudia, just getting out of the shower, find out who it is, and if they're friendly, for Christ's sake, let them in!' Well, she started off calmly, but quickly became exasperated that her teenage daughter couldn't think of taking the initiative and do something as simple as that.