by J. Daniels
“Hey.” Her voice is light and lifted. She sounds like she’s smiling.
Why would she be smiling?
“What are you doing?”
I look down at my towel, then around the darkened room. “Nothing. Just took a shower.”
“God, I took so many showers. I used an entire thing of body wash,” she giggles.
I run a hand through my wet hair.
She’s giggling? Why the fuck is she giggling? Is she happy right now?
“So, Mason . . .”
“Yeah?”
“That goodbye sucked. It was awkward and really fucking weird. I didn’t like it. You need to do better than that, okay?” A slurping sound comes through the phone. “Mm. Are you coming over?”
“What?”
“Billy is making his famous martinis. They’re so, so good. I’m on my third one so I can’t drive. You have to come to me.”
I sit down on the edge of my bed. Am I dreaming this phone call?
“You want me to come over there? After what happened today?” I ask hesitantly.
I almost don’t want to shatter this illusion. This Brooke still likes me.
“Yes, hello! You wanted me for the whole weekend, right? I mean, that was the original plan before that bloody tick showed up and ruined everything. It’s Saturday night. Still the weekend, mate,” she laughs again. “You’re so funny, Mason.”
“I am?”
“Yes. So sweet and funny. A little strange, yeah? I like it.” She pauses, humming a bit. “Now hurry up and get over here. I want to kiss you before I’m drunk and don’t remember it.”
The call disconnects. I bring the phone away from my ear and stare at it.
What just happened?
Brooke isn’t upset anymore. She isn’t mad or acting like we’re through and she’s done.
She wants me to come over. She hated that goodbye as much as I did.
She wants to kiss me before she’s drunk.
Too fucking right. I want that. I hated that bloody goodbye. I didn’t even want one.
I dart off the bed and attack my dresser like a man possessed. Clothes are flying. I pull on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and stumble into my runners, grabbing my keys and my phone.
My mood is jubilant. There’s that runner’s high I was hoping for earlier. Only this is better. Leave it to Brooke to shock me back into my usual pleasant self. She can’t do or be anything predictable. It doesn’t suit her.
Traffic is mild and I arrive at her building within a few minutes, pulling underneath and parking in the garage.
I take the elevators to her floor. I knock twice and step back, scowling at the water I collect off my neck. I didn’t even bother running a towel over my hair before leaving. My collar is damp.
The door swings open and Brooke’s bright face appears. She squeals and lunges at me, wrapping her hands around my neck and tugging me inside.
My back hits the wall. Her full lips form to my mouth.
“Hey. Hi. Your hair is wet, goof.” She filters her fingers through my hair and tugs on the ends. She kisses me slowly. Deeply. Pressing her small body against mine. Her tongue swipes across my lip and she moans. “Mm. My face is so warm right now. Feel.” Stepping back, she grabs my hand and presses it to her cheek.
I look at her, at that wild, devilish smile twisting across her mouth. The dimple sinking into her cheek and her brilliant eyes, round and eager.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispers, smiling so goddamn big. Her cheeks lifting and flushing pink.
My heart thunders in my chest.
Christ, I’m so in love with this girl.
A throat clears in the room. I look up and spot our audience, Billy and Joey, hovering a few feet away by the sofa. Both of them looking more than pleased at what they’re witnessing.
“Hey. How are ya?” I choke out, straightening off the wall.
“Evening.” Joey tips his glass, arching an eyebrow. “She’s been pacing around waiting for you. I almost had to sedate her.”
“Whatever. I was not,” Brooke snaps over her shoulder. She tugs on my hand. “Come on. Do you want a drink? We have beer.”
“And martinis,” Billy adds, nodding his greeting and then gesturing across the room. “Liquor cabinet is over there if you want something stiff.”
Brooke spins around. Her mouth slowly falling open and then spreading into a knowing smile. “Oh, my God. Do you get it? Something stiff?” She gets up on her toes, hand beside her mouth as she whispers, “like a cock.”
Tipsy Brooke doesn’t know how to whisper.
Her eyes pop wider when everyone enjoys a good laugh. Joey and Billy remark about only wanting stiff ones as they move about the condo.
I grin down at Brooke, scratching my jaw. “Yeah, sweetheart. I get it. I’m good with a beer, yeah?”
Her little nose twitches. “Yeah,” she chuckles, pushing on my chest. “Go sit. I’ll grab you one.”
I do a quick take of my surroundings as I pad toward the bar.
The condo is spacious and elegantly decorated. Expensive looking art covers the walls.
“Nice place,” I comment, sliding out a stool and stretching my arms out on the cool marble. “I’m still working on getting all of my stuff unpacked. It’s been a bit of a slow process. Other things have been occupying my time.”
Brooke smiles over her shoulder as she grabs me a beer.
“Oh, this is all Billy. I can’t decorate to save my life.” Joey comes to stand at the bar with his cocktail. “It’s strange how fabulous I am with my own fashion sense, yet when it comes to color schemes for a room I’m a hot mess about it.”
Billy steps up behind him and kisses his shoulder, laughing a bit. “It’s a good thing I love you for other reasons. Remember when you tried to wallpaper the bathroom?”
“Christ, don’t remind me,” Joey groans in embarrassment. “I have no idea why I thought that was a good idea.”
“Because you had just moved in and you wanted to surprise me with something. It was sweet.”
Brooke runs her hand across my back and places the beer in front of me. She kisses my cheek.
“I’ll be right back.”
I watch her disappear behind a door. I fight the urge to follow her in there when I decide on that being her bedroom.
Slow it down, mate. You damn well know what’ll happen if you go in there.
“So, camping . . .”
I turn my head and watch Joey’s eyes flicker with amusement over the top of his drink. He takes a slow sip.
I look between him and Billy. “Right. How was she when she got back here? Like this?” I hook a thumb over my shoulder in the direction of the bedroom.
“Hardly.” Billy drops his chin on Joey’s shoulder, his arms wrapping around his waist. “She was freaking out about the tick, which isn’t shocking. This is Brooke we’re talking about. She once stayed at her sister’s house for the weekend because she saw a spider in her bedroom. Wouldn’t come home until we promised her we killed it.”
“We never found the damn thing,” Joey adds with a cheeky grin. “We just missed her crazy ass and wanted her to come home.”
I rub at my mouth. “So, when did she start acting like this? She seems fine now, like nothing happened.”
“Do you not know the glorious effects of alcohol?” Joey’s eyebrow lifts. “Once we distracted her with drinks, she calmed down about it.” He looks at Billy, then back at me, smiling like he’s in on some secret. “That’s also when she started going on and on about you.”
“Another thing you need to know about Brooke,” Billy pauses, his eyes lifting to something over my shoulder. I hear a door shut and he quietly adds, “She doesn’t do that,” before turning his head and pulling Joey away from the bar.
My mind soaks in that obscure bit of information.
She doesn’t do what? Talk about blokes like she does me? Drink and forget about unfortunate run-ins with insects?
What the fuck?
I need clarity on this.
Brooke moves back into the kitchen and waves at me. I watch her as she reaches for a tall cocktail on the counter, one resembling Joey’s. It’s a pale green color with a cherry floating at the bottom.
She spins around and closes a cabinet. I study her, resting my chin on my hand. Her long hair falls down her back, curling against her black tank top. Loose trackies hang low on her hips with the words Team Pink covering her arse.
She brings the drink to her mouth and takes a sip. Our eyes meet. I smile, and she cutely waves at me again.
A door slides open behind me and draws my attention.
Billy looks up, places his hand on Joey’s shoulder, and muscles him outside. He looks to be struggling with it.
“We’re . . . go, will you? Jesus! We’re going to go sit on the balcony. Give you two a little privacy for a while.” He jerks his chin and then steps out onto the terrace, pulling the door closed and drowning out Joey’s flippant protest.
“Goddamn it, Billy,” I faintly hear through the glass.
Brooke’s quiet giggle turns my head as she sits beside me, her bare feet swinging in the air. “This is my fourth apple martini.” She takes a small sip, licking her lips. “It’s apple.”
Laughing, I twist off the cap on my beer and take a swig. “How’s your leg?”
“Mm. Good! Look.” She sets her drink down and pulls up her pants. “It’s not even red anymore. Not that you can tell ‘cause of the Band-Aid, but still. I cleaned it like you said and put some Neosporin on it. Billy said it looks fine. He’s had tick bites before.”
I wrap my hand around her calf and examine her leg, slowly running my thumb along her smooth skin.
Images of Brooke on the rock, scared and trembling corrode my mind. Her broken voice fills my ears.
“You know how sorry I am for this, right?” I quietly ask, looking up into those big, curious eyes. I tug down her pants to her ankle and release her leg. “I’m so fucking sorry, Brooke. I should’ve never taken you there. I shouldn’t have made you do that.”
She gives me a lopsided smile. “I liked the swanky tent. Remember what we did in there?”
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t make me do any of that.”
Straightening with a quick breath, I look down as her hand finds mine under the lip of the bar. She squeezes my thumb.
I close my eyes.
Fuck, she’s so different with me right now. When has she ever reached for my hand, or displayed any sort of honest affection for me in front of people she knows? Is it the alcohol?
Christ, just enjoy it, will ya? Stop analyzing everything.
“I thought it was over today,” I softly admit, brushing my fingers against hers and staring down into my lap. “I was shocked when you called. I thought I was dreaming.”
“Maybe you were.”
Our eyes lock, and she breathes a laugh, taking another sip of her drink and then tipping her head down. Her eyes flutter. “Dreaming about me is kind of your thing, isn’t it?”
“You are kind of my thing.”
“And yoga.”
“Yeah.” I reach up and grab a piece of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. My phone beeps with a text alert, and I pull it free from my pocket and place it on the counter.
Tessa: Well?
I quickly type my response.
Me: Crisis averted.
“Who is that?” Brooke asks, leaning close to see my screen as I set the phone back down. She studies it for a moment. “Tessa?” Our eyes lock. Hers narrow. “Mm.”
I turn my head, smiling as she rights herself on her stool and shrugs indifferently.
“She’s a mate from Alabama. I’ve told her about you.”
Brooke lifts her glass to her mouth. “Oh, really? And have you seen her vagina? Because I’ve never seen any of my mates’ vaginas. Just saying. Or their penises, before you ask. No penises or vaginas between mates.”
I rub at my neck, watching her, uncontrollably smiling at this development.
Now this is quite interesting.
“Are you jealous, Brooke?”
Her head snaps in my direction, eyes heavy with disagreement. She lowers her glass to the marble. “Jealous? Me? Of who? That ugly bitch who just texted you? Why would I be jealous of her if you’ve never seen her vagina, which you have yet to confirm. Please confirm that before I toss my drink in your face.”
I take another swig of my beer, letting her stew a bit next to me before I respond.
“Tell Theresa to find her own Australian.”
I nearly choke.
Wiping at my mouth after my coughing fit, I turn to Brooke and set my beer down, reaching for her hand. She fights my hold for a good three seconds before letting me have it, but keeps her gaze fixed behind the bar.
“Tessa, not Theresa, and I went out on one date months ago. I never even kissed her, Brooke. She’s just a really good mate.”
“You don’t need to explain your relationship or whatever with her. I really don’t care.”
“No?”
She shakes her head.
I lean forward to see her face. “Because I would really fucking care if you were texting some bloke and I didn’t know who he was to you. I’m not a jealous guy, but I think for you I would be. It’s staggering how you make me feel.”
She turns her head, watching me press a kiss to her palm.
“And I rather like thinking you might be right there with me, willing to be jealous and crazy for only one person.”
Her face relaxes the longer she stares at me. She wets her lips. “You never even kissed her?”
“No.”
“Did you want to?”
“Not like I want to kiss you.”
Slowly, like she’s fighting it, a gentle smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, then pulls across the rest of it. She shakes her head through a quick exhale, giggles quietly, then slides her warm body into my lap, squeezing my neck and pressing soft kisses to my jaw.
“Tell me something in Italian again,” she whispers as her fingers slide through my hair. “I liked it so much before.”
I drop my head beside hers. My arms tightly coil around her back. “You like not knowing what I’m saying?”
“Mm.” She nods and kisses my neck.
“I could say anything, you know? Maybe something you aren’t ready to hear.”
“I know.” She moves back and stares at my mouth. Her eyes darken, liquid desire swirling in those wild green and brown irises. She wets her lips and grabs my face. “I think I’m drunk.”
“Yeah?”
Nodding, she leans in. “Definitely.”
Her lips press against mine. I open my mouth and take her tongue, sucking off the bitterness from the alcohol. Letting her taste saturate my soul.
God, what this woman does to me.
She moans and presses her chest closer, kissing me hard and unhurried, stroking her tongue against mine, sucking on my lips and wiggling in my lap.
I both hate and love how Brooke’s being with me tonight, so unashamed with her affection. Abandoning all her doubts. Exactly how I want her to be with me all the time. Exactly how I am with her, all the time.
It’s bloody torture, knowing why she’s acting so free with me, but fuck, it’s hard to pull away from.
This is what it can be like. And this, goddamn, this is what I’m missing.
“Mason,” she groans, digging her nails into my neck, rocking her hips against my erection.
I snap out of my haze and slow us down, moving my lips to her cheek and kissing her dimple.
“Voglio che questo non finisca mai,” I whisper against her skin.
I won’t ever want this to be over.
She stills in my arms, her breath blowing hot and sharp against my ear. Then, with a quiet sigh, she drops her head to my shoulder and goes limp.
“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I won’t remember that tomorrow.”
Laughing, I lean back and push the hair out of h
er face.
“Are you spending the night?” she asks, her fingers dancing along the back of my neck. She looks excited for that possibility.
“Better not.”
Her lip twitches. “Think I might forget your rules and try and take advantage of you in my drunken stupor?”
I smile, squeezing her hips. “Yeah, and I might forget you’re drunk.”
Too much temptation. I know how fucking amazing it feels having Brooke next to me at night. I won’t be able to keep my hands off her.
“I would,” she confesses through a massive grin. “Forget, and take advantage of you. But can you at least stay until I fall asleep? I’ll let you stare at my tits a little.” She shimmies her shoulders and makes her tits bounce and sway.
My cock stirs.
No bra. Fuck, this is going to be a challenge.
“Jesus Christ, Brooke,” I groan, leaning in and taking her mouth again, tilting her head and pressing kisses to her jaw. “You’re keeping that on, yeah?”
“Nah.”
She laughs and I suck on her neck.
“Good,” I tell her. “Then I’ll stay.”
BROOKE
Mondays have never bothered me.
I know most people would rather skip this day entirely, but I’ve never had a problem with it. I don’t mind working on Mondays, or dealing with the general population on this specific day of the week. Traffic is never really an issue because I work so close to where I live. And as long as I’m not drinking my weight in booze the night before, I never have difficulty waking up and getting my ass to the bakery on time.
Mondays have never bothered me. Until today, this particular Monday.
The Monday after my weekend with Mason.
Why the fuck did I think it was a good idea to come into work today?
Because I was nursing a wicked hangover all day yesterday and spent my life in bed with my door locked, Joey missed his opportunity to run off at the mouth and bug the shit out of me about everything that happened this weekend. But now that I’m fully coherent and stuck in this chocolate raspberry scented Hell for eight hours? I not only get to try and ignore Joey’s nosy comments, but Dylan is also weighing in with her opinion on everything.
She’s my boss. I can’t exactly toss her through a window to shut her up now, can I?
