Page 31 of Winning Brynn

His eyes flicker down to my breasts that are thrust up over my arms. I've practically presented them to him, given the position I've put myself in, and though it wasn't a conscious decision, I'm entirely certain my traitorous libido has something to do with it.

"I know what a bra is just fine." I scowl, uncrossing my arms and feeling my breasts drop back into place. "I just find them restrictive."

"I can understand that." He nods to himself. "I've always found them an unnecessary barrier anyway." He says it so casually, like he didn’t just release a million butterflies inside of me.

His suggestiveness catches me off guard. Until now, he's always seemed sort of sexless to me. Not because he isn't hot—the man is more than hot—he just doesn't seem interested in sex. Especially considering how offended he was when one of his former nanny prospects suggested sucking him off in exchange for the position. And that's not even mentioning how quickly he dropped me back onto the bed the other night when I realized that he wasn't wearing a shirt.

Although, I'm almost sure he winked at me before he left the room. But it was dark, and I was still recovering from the trauma of being attacked with a vegetable in my unconscious, so I probably imagined it.

Anyway, apparently, the man does know what sex is. And he's had it. Well, obviously he has, because he has a daughter. But right now, my brain is malfunctioning because Leo likes sex, and he doesn't like bras because they're an "unnecessary barrier," which means he has removed a bra from a woman in his life at some point. And can he unclasp them with one hand? Because he seems like a man who could unclasp a bra with one hand. And this obviously means he likes boobs, but does he like boobs more than he likes butts? Because men usually make it seem like you have to prefer one over the other, but maybe Leo likes both?

And why am I hoping that he's more of an ass man because my butt is significantly larger than my breasts?

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Leo smirks in response, his eyes locked on mine as he stirs the eggs mindlessly with one hand.

And though everything inside me is screaming at me not to, I hold his gaze. There's something in his eyes that makes me shift in my seat—a flare of heat, a flicker of something dangerous. When he slides his teeth over his bottom lip, my heart rate soars to the skies.

It's too much.

The way he's looking at me right now is disarming, like he wants to lay me down on the island and eat me for breakfast. Crossing my legs in a vain attempt to relieve some of the ache that has started to pulse between them, I rub my clammy palms together in my lap.

Leo's smirk grows wider.

He knows what he's doing.

The asshole is playing with me.

Aggravated, I lean forward and snatch the cap from his head, placing it onto my own with a victorious grin.

He sighs but doesn't make an attempt to get it back. Turning the stove off and shoveling some eggs onto a plate, he mutters, "Stop stealing my hats."

"They're my hats now." I take the plate from him and hold out my hand for a fork, which he places in my palm with a raised brow.

And maybe I'm imagining things again, but I'm sure there's a whisper of a smile on his lips.

"Where's my little ladybug, anyway?" I ask, looking around at the great room, not seeing her.

Leo dumps the pan in the sink, rinsing it off with water before taking a seat beside me at the island. "She's having a nap."

"Already? It's still early morning."

"It's eleven a.m."

My brow furrows in confusion. "But you're making breakfast."

He laughs, rubbing his hand over his jaw. "I knew the smell of food would finally raise you from the dead."

I falter. "Wait. You made this just for me?"

His eyes flick to his lap, just for a moment but long enough for me to see the flash of self-consciousness on his face before raising his gaze back to mine. Wordlessly, he nods.

"Oh." Strangely touched by the gesture, I reach across and lay my hand on his arm. "Thank you."

We both look down to the point of contact at the same time, my breath hitching and his freezing in his lungs. There isn't a crackle of electricity or a sudden jolt of overpowering lust—probably because I'm already experiencing it, and adding any more would be a health hazard—but there is a warmth that spreads from his skin into mine. A glow of something I can't quite explain.

It doesn't feel wrong to be touching him, like it should.

It feels...natural.

---