Page 66 of Winning Brynn

"Leo." His name is an awed whisper as I look to him with tearful eyes. "You did all this for me?"

He shrugs like it means nothing. Like it's not a big deal. Like it's not one of the nicest, most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for me. "Yeah."

"Look at this stuff," I murmur, ghosting my fingers over the Hasselblad camera mounted on the tripod. "This alone must have cost close to ten thousand dollars."

"Twenty," he says simply.

"Twenty thousand dollars?" My jaw drops. "Are you fucking insane?"

His lips purse as he fights to stifle a laugh. "I assume you don't want to know what the rest of the stuff set me back, then."

Pushing the heels of my hands into my eyes, I take several deep breaths through my nose. "No," I squeak. "Not unless you want to give me a coronary."

I don't know he's in front of me until I feel his fingers wrap around my wrists and gently pull my hands away from my face. Keeping my eyes glued to his feet, I hear him release a small, shuddering laugh.

"I must admit, this isn't how I imagined this would go."

"I'm sorry," I sniff, hastily brushing a tear from under my eyes and praying he won't notice. "I don't know what to say."

"How about thank you?"

"Oh, yes, that." I'm still staring at his bare feet—his incredibly masculine, annoyingly pretty, bare feet. "Thank you, Leo. So much. But I can't accept it."

His finger slips beneath my chin, tilting my head up and forcing me to finally meet his eyes.

"Yes, you can."

"No, I—"

"Youcan." He's so stern right now, so resolute in his mission to gift me this obscenely expensive and touching gift. "And you will, Brynn. You don't have a choice, I'm afraid."

"But why would you—"

"Because I wanted to," he interrupts. "Stop trying to talk me out of it, okay? It ain't gonna work."

Reluctantly, I nod. Then slowly, I let my lips spread into a small, grateful smile, hoping he can see in my eyes just how much the gesture means to me.

Dark irises sparkle back at me in both relief and amusement. "Good."

It's only now that I realize he hasn't dropped his hand from my face. It's just suspended there, his fingers tickling against my neck, his thumb pressed into the cleft of my chin.

It hits us both at the same time, our proximity. And yet, neither of us moves. Slowly, so fucking slowly, his thumb slides up to stroke across my bottom lip.

I gasp. I can't help it. One small touch from this man has the power to set me aflame, to make me burn in a way I never have for anybody else.

I watch as his pupils dilate, his gaze dipping to track the movement of his thumb on my lips.

Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop,I chant in my head.

"What are you doing?" I whisper instead.

He shakes his head, his eyes fixed on my mouth. "Don't talk."

Wetting his own with a sharp dart of his tongue, he slips his thumb between my lips, pressing down gently on my tongue. And I latch on. That's the only word for it. I trap him inside with my teeth, flicking my tongue over the ridges of his digit, swirling it over him the way I dream I could do to another part of him.

I'd do it right now if he'd let me.

I'd drop to my knees and show him just how fucking grateful I am for what he's done for me.

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