Page 89 of Winning Brynn

Isabella:Is the sex good?

Brynn:It’s the best.

Isabella:And does he treat you right outside the bedroom?

Brynn:He calls me baby. And last night, he talked about his feelings.

Isabella:His FEELINGS?

Isabella:Damn girl, he definitely likes you.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Leo

"You still okay withmy friend staying for a few days this week?" Brynn asks, cross-legged on the sofa as she sips from a cup of coffee with her hair thrown into a disheveled heap on her head that still somehow manages to look hot.

It's mid-morning on Saturday, the March sun streaming in through the huge windows and bathing her in gold. Salem is napping, my muscles are aching from a week of hardcore practice and a soccer game, and Brynn is looking at me with a fire in her eyes that flashes with dirty innuendos. Life is good.

"Yeah, it's fine. What day will she be here?"

"She's flying in on Wednesday. She'll take my bed if you don't mind me invading yours?"

"It's not an invasion if I want you there." I steal the cup from her hands, down what's left of it, then put it on the coffee table. Then I climb over her body, caging her in between my arms, and lower myself until we're nose to nose. "Say will be asleep for at least an hour. Whatever could we do with so much time on our hands?"

She shoves me off when I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively, laughing as she pulls herself into a sitting position. "As tempting as that is, I've really got to shoot some content today."

"What do you need to do? Can I help?" I look at her with a face like a golden retriever puppy.

She rolls her eyes. "Couple of sponsored items that were sent to me this week. Some feminine products, skincare, that kind of shit. Might shoot a few different outfits so I can schedule posts. Boring stuff, you know."

I tilt my head to one side. "Feminine products? Like tampons?"

"No." She clears her throat, dropping her gaze. "Feminine stuff like, um…vibrators."

"Oh, now I really wanna help."

Tossing a throw pillow at my head, she pushes off the sofa and marches her way down the hallway to my office, me hot on her heels. "You're a pervert, you know that?"

I grin, folding myself into my desk chair. "Only for you, baby."

My stomach flutters as I watch her start setting up the equipment I bought for her, adjusting the camera on the tripod and switching on the box lights. She moves to the center of the white backdrop to take a test photo then returns to the camera, frowns, and adjusts something again.

She's focused solely on her task, and I'm focused solely on her.

I breathe in everything she does. The little lines on her forehead that appear when she's concentrating, the expert flick of her fingers over the camera, the way she shapes her body when she's taking a photograph. When she sets the camera to video and begins talking about a vitamin C cream that supposedly reduces red patches, I watch it all with an open mouth, awestruck by her confidence and natural, easy humor.

It's incredibly sexy to watch someone you like doing the thing they're good at. And I can't believe I ever looked down on what she does for a living. I didn't understand it then, but I do now. She does what she loves. I can see it in how she moves and smiles and twirls in fifty thousand different outfits.

It makes my dick hard.

Fuck, everything about this woman makes my dick hard.

But especially when she's happy.

After changing into a silk night set the color of champagne, she pulls a curved purple piece of plastic out of a box, winking at me as she starts to film. Fucking minx. She knows what she's doing, and she hasn't even started talking about it yet. She doesn't even need to try to make me hot for her. I'm in a perpetual state of arousal whenever she's in my vicinity.

Leaning back in my chair, I readjust my junk and watch her through hooded eyes.

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