Maybe he had more thinking to do.
Sigh.
She turned, gave him that glare again, the one that was supposed to be scary but was really freaking adorable, and said, “You think I’m going to let you off the hook that easily?”
No, of course she wasn’t.
But before his discussion with Jaime, he’d never talked to anyone about this, had never done more than laugh off the comments when people—from teachers to family members to friends—teased him about his flights of fancy and his tendency to go off on his own adventures. Even his career had been something he’d fallen into—website design, predominately for travel companies. His first client had reached out to him after finding Brad’s now-retired travel blog.
See what he meant about not finishing things?
But truthfully, with the blog at least, he’d gotten too busy with his website business, with all the places he’d traveled, to keep up. It was either turn down clients or travel less or let the blog go.
The decision had been easy.
Buh-bye blog.
But how to explain that to this woman.
“Okay, fine,” she said, after a moment. “Maybe I will let you off that easily.”
He snorted.
“Be prepared for me to circle back after prickly pears.”
“Noted.”
She smiled at him and turned back to the pan. “What’s your favorite place you’ve visited?”
He measured the alcohol into the metal cup, scooped up some ice, shook the entire mixture together, and then strained it into two glasses. “We’re going to be friends now?”
“I’ve decided to forgive you.”
His heart pulsed. “Just that easily?”
“I’ve punished you for two days straight, not to mention laughed when you got brained by that platter.” He touched the top of his head, probing the still painful spot, and she laughed. “See? I’m terrible.”
No, she was wonderful.
Especially when her eyes narrowed. “But I am not sleeping with you again.”
Now, it was his turn to laugh.
She crossed to him, making his breath catch, his laughter cut off. And his cock twitch. Like it did any time she was in the vicinity. “I am,” she murmured, her mouth temptingly close, her floral and spice scent wafting up into his nose. “Not sleeping with you again,” she added, reaching beyond him for the glass he’d just filled then retreating back across the kitchen.
“Why?” he asked. “You know it would be good.”
She’d just taken a sip—or maybe, a gulp. Either way, his assertion made her sputter and cough, and then he crossed to her, rubbing his hand up and down her spine until she stopped choking, until she looked up at him, heat in her eyes.
Her breath shuttered out. “I’m still not sleeping with you,” she wheezed.
Their gazes met.
They both burst into laughter.
And Brad thought that was okay. For now, anyway.
Baby steps.
First laughter.
Then, hopefully, other things.
Eight
Heidi
It was the next evening, and she was having déjà vu.
“Glutton for punishment?” she asked, lifting her brows at the tall, dark, and sexy pain in her ass currently sitting on her doorstep.
He lifted his cell. “You didn’t text me to stay away, so I figured that I’d slide into the chance.”
Snorting, she unlocked her door, moving inside and allowing him to trail her down the hall. “The ignoring was unintentional. My cell had to be off for my work today”—some top-secret shit, as her assistant Stef called it—“and I forgot to turn it on.” She plunked the box with the muffins she’d picked up after work and her bag on the kitchen counter, reached inside, and pulled her phone out. “See? It’s not all about you.”
He smiled that slow and hot quirk of his lips, making her want to ignore her promise to herself.
But she was stubborn.
She wouldn’t be burned twice by falling for his humor and charm.
Even if he was humorous . . . and charming.
Friends, and nothing more. That. Was. It.
He snagged the cell from her fingers and powered it on. “But seriously, don’t forget, next time,” he said, tone more serious than she had ever heard it. “You might get into a situation where you need it and can’t wait for it to boot up.”
She paused. “Have you been in one of those situations?”
Humor in his gorgeous green-brown eyes, tempering the serious. “More than one.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” He handed her phone back.
Heidi took it and found herself hesitant, all of a sudden remembering that him coming over to hang out, especially unexpectedly, wasn’t normal. Yes, they’d eaten together the previous night. Yes, they’d chatted a bit about the places he’d visited. Yes, she’d actually had three prickly pear margaritas. But then she’d yawned, right in the middle of him telling her a story about a pickpocket he’d fended off in Italy, and he hadn’t finished his tale, hadn’t listened to her when she’d told him she was fine.
Nope. He’d shown himself right to the door.
And she hadn’t heard a word from him.
She’d just slept, worked, and expected to go on with their separate lives—his guilt assuaged, her life moving right along. She even had plans tonight to set up an online dating profile for a new app Stef had recommended.
Apparently, all the cool kids were doing it.
Not that she was a cool kid, but it wasn’t like she had anything to lose. Plus, maybe she’d find someone who stuck around.
“You’ll keep it on?” he asked. Or well, it sounded like a question, but his gaze suggested it was more of an order.
All order.
And she shivered, heat pooling between her thighs at the memory of his previous commands, of the pleasure they had found together, of the husky voice, the hard cock, the talented fingers driving her to orgasm as he’d spent the night ordering her around.
Legs around my waist.
Give me your mouth.
Come for me. Now, baby.
Sex. Just sex.
And she wanted more. But unfortunately—no, not unfortunately. Not having more of Brad was a good thing. Self-respect and loving herself and understanding she needed more were all good things.
Orgasms are good things,
