Page 48 of Brazen Mistakes

He isn’t looking at me.

Or rather, he is, but not at my face. He blinks, staring between my legs. And instead of being embarrassed, I want to fucking preen, and I drop my knees a little wider, the move slight enough to be mistaken as an accident.

“Shit. You, fuck. All night? This—” His cheeks are bright red as his tongue darts out and wets his lips.

“Yeah. I kind of rushed out.” I say, heart fluttering high in my chest.

I don’t know what it’s going to take to get him to fuck me like we both want, but one thing is unmistakable. He wants me.

And even when he pushes to his feet, turning his back, leaving me with no choice but to toss his pen onto his desk and inch out of his room, his silence says more than any words ever could.

Chapter 18

Clara

The light peeks through Jansen’s blinds when I jolt from my sleep, another nightmare yanking me awake.

Despite the series of naps I’ve had over the last twelve hours, I’m still so tired I’m dizzy. But while my arms and knuckles are achy and sore after my midnight workout with Trips, it’s been weeks since I slept for that many uninterrupted hours, so I’ll take the discomfort.

Jansen’s soft snores continue even after I slip from his bed, pulling on my actual clothes, and inching downstairs, the only scuffling in the house coming from Trips’ room.

My running shoes guilt me as I stretch my tight quads from last night. A run might help, but I don’t know if it’s safe to head out alone. And I’m already so exhausted, it doesn’t even sound fun.

Instead of going for a run, one hand against my head has me detangling my curls. The ache building behind my eyestells me I’ve gotten just enough sleep for my body to show me how much sleep debt I’ve accumulated. I’ll be lucky to do much of anything today.

My hair unknotted, I glance out my window, hoping we’ve frustrated Bryce now that we’re not down here for him to spy on anymore.

I miss my big bed.

A glimpse of purple on one of my chairs catches my attention, and I pick up the box from RJ, the slip cool to the touch.

I haven’t even given him a welcome back kiss yet.

Emboldened by that thought, I pick up the slip, and feeling a little silly, some sweats and a sweatshirt, before rushing to the bathroom to change and brush my teeth.

As prepped as I’m going to get, I dash upstairs, trying RJ’s door, only to find it locked.

I don’t want to knock. I want to surprise him.

This tiny setback makes all that damn emotion flare in my chest again, but this time, it’s got the flavor of both anger and agony, and I’m not sure if that’s an improvement.

I’m leaning with my forehead against RJ’s door when Trips prowls up to me. “Kicked out?”

I flip him off, not moving. “I wanted to do a surprise wake-up, but this door is blocking me.”

“That’s what doors do. Learn to pick locks.”

“Planning on it, asshole.”

I’m nudged to the side, a jingle of keys and grumbled curses following the move, and then the door to RJ’s room is open. “I’m only doing this once, soget it sorted.”

“Right. Will do.” I close the door in his face. I’m not ready for Trips’ damage this early in the day. Especially after last night.

Turning, I find RJ sound asleep on his bed, his bag tossed on the floor by his desk, clothes scattered all over the floor. Nerves attack me—will he like this surprise? Am I too much? Too soon? Should I just let him sleep? He was dealing with family stuff and is probably exhausted.

I’ve almost talked myself into sneaking back out when he rolls toward me, eyes fluttering open. “Clara?”

“Um, yeah. Good morning.”

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