Page 58 of Winning Brynn

That earns him an eye roll. If Leo has a problem with the mess Salem has made of herself, then maybe he should have put more thought into teaching her some table manners. I’m not saying a one-year-old should know the difference between a fish fork and a salad fork, but Lord Almighty, the poor girl can barely handle a spoon.

“Avocados make excellent face masks, actually. They’re rich in skin-loving fats.” I fix him with a pointed expression. “And they’re great for anti-aging. You could use some, actually.”

He smirks in that overconfident, conceited way he likes to do. “Bullshit. An elderly lady in the lobby yesterday told me I have the face of an angel.”

“Were you flirting with her?” My tone drips with accusation, my hand perched on my hip as I stare him down with disapproval.

He has the audacity to look affronted. “What? No.”

“You flirt with everyone.”

“True dat!” Arun chimes in, waving his arms in front of him to imitate windshield wipers. He slips me a conspiratorial wink, and I shoot him a grateful smile in return, grinning harder when I catch sight of the pout on Alex’s face.

The sound of Leo’s laughter has my body turning rigid, hearty and boisterous, bordering on obnoxious. It doesn’t make sense to me how the sound vibrates through my body, raising my heart rate and causing my stomach to dip. I can’t even see him yet.

“The look on Sully’s face, man,” Harley is saying as he appears through the archway that separates the hallway from the living area. “I keep reliving it.”

Theo is hot on his tail, cheeks flushed from laughing at whatever the fuck they’re talking about, until finally, Leo comes into view.

He’s shirtless. All glistening, sun-kissed skin, hard planes, and sharp lines. Track pants hang loose around his hips, dragging my gaze downward to the unmistakably large bulge he’s sporting beneath the cotton. Taking the ball cap off his head, he rakes a hand through his messy hair and strides straight for his daughter, kissing her loudly on the cheek. “I missed you, baby girl.” He pulls away with a frown, wiping his hand over his mouth.

“God, what is that?” He pulls back to look at Salem properly. “Why is my daughter green?"

“Skincare,” I croak, my tongue trying to crawl down the back of my throat to suffocate me. Because for the life of me, I can’t stop staring at him.

It doesn’t help that he’s standing so close. With him in front of Salem and me right beside her, he’s close enough that I can smell the musky evidence on his skin of a long day of working out and running drills.

It should disgust me. Lord knows the smell of my brother’s sweat repulses me to the point of nausea, but Leo’s has the total opposite effect on my senses. It calls to the space between my legs, leaving an almost unbearable ache thrumming steadily in my core.

I must be ovulating.

Goddamn him and his body and his stupidly delicious scent and his motherfucking eight-pack and his big dick and his masculinity that is so incredibly toxic, simply because I can’t seem to resist it.

He’s an asshole for being so attractive.

Catching the frown on my brother’s face in my periphery, I realize that my leering hasn’t gone unnoticed. So, I change tactics.

Wrinkling my nose, I look up at Leo. “You stink.”

There’s no embarrassment on his face when he answers me, no shame at all, just a flash of amusement in his dark eyes. “I didn’t have time to shower after practice.”

“I’m sure the guys wouldn’t have minded waiting ten more minutes so you didn’t come home smelling like a scrotum.”

Someone snorts a laugh, but my attention is locked on the man in front of me. With one hand, he's stroking the fine hair on Salem's head and tapping his ball cap rhythmically against his thigh with the other. But his eyes...they're all mine. Deep and dark and twinkling with deviousness, as if he can see straight through my bullshit and would call me out on it if all the guys—namely, my brother—weren't listening in with rapt attention.

“You’ve had a lot of experience with smelly scrotums, then?” Leo asks, his lips twitching at the corners.

“Too much.”

“Then I’d suggest finding yourself a man with better personal hygiene next time.”

"Well, evidently, it won't be you."

Alex slams his hand down on the counter. "It won't be anyone if I have it my way." He turns to the rest of the guys. “What was so funny, anyway?”

Harley snorts. “A woman in the elevator asked Sully to autograph her pussy.”

I watch Leo through the corner of my eye, studying his expression as if it alone will tell me whether or not he actually did it. Not that I care either way. He can sign and touch and eat and fuck as much pussy as he wants—so long as it’s mine.

---