Page 23 of Love Me Brazen
“Let’s talk tomorrow,” Darienne says before hanging up.
I spinaround and hurry back inside.
Quinn looks up from pouring us each a glass of water. “What is it this time?”
“She…changed one of the colors. Then...” That heat lingering in my core from Linden’s glance steals my focus. I press my fingertips to my temples. “It shouldn’t be this hard.”
The firm, broad planes of Linden’s body flashes into my thoughts but I grit my teeth. No. I am not fantasizing about my jackass neighbor.
Even if he’s hard in all the right ways.
And gentle when it counts.
I groan. Thankfully, Quinn is too busy grabbing silverware and napkins to hear it, because she would be the first one to pounce on this little nugget.
To push it all aside, I tell Quinn about Jordan’s text.
“Perfect!” she says and offers me a high five.
I picture walking into the party with athletic, charming Jordan at my side. Will that be enough to wipe that wolfish look off Russel’s face?
That night, I’m awake with my windows open to let in the cooler air but it’s not helping me sleep. Some of the lingering tension is surely stemming from my call with Darienne. Should I have stood up to her more? But she makes my dad happy, and he’s been alone for so long. I don’t want to do anything that would push my dad farther away.
It makes me miss my mom. Or maybe I was already missing her thanks to that conversation with Greta. I could help her, if she wants it. Even if it hurts.
With a deep sigh, I roll over, but it only takes the brush of the cotton sheet on my knuckles to bring up the real reason for my restlessness.
It’s Linden and his caring focus. And his cocky grin. And his naked chest and strong, muscular forearms. The tattoos covering his right shoulder and down his bicep. One is roman numerals—Greta’s birthdate, maybe. I don’t know what the flock of black birds stands for.
To shove him from my thoughts, I go for the ultimate distraction and retrieve my sleek little toy and my bottle of lube from my nightstand. The lube’s mango passionfruit scent always makes me feel like I’m in the raptures of pleasure on some tropical island paradise.
I do not think about my obnoxious neighbor as I flip to my back. Closing my eyes, I try to lose myself in this simple act of self-care. I’m beside a private pool on a padded lounge chair while the sexy pool boy who hasn’t been able to take his eyes off me all day nibbles up my thigh. Or I’m in the penthouse elevator with two hot billionaires promising to take turns with me until I lose consciousness.
I let out a soft moan as my climax coils inside me. This is exactly what I need right now. A reminder that I’m in control. That I don’t need a man.
The piercingsqueak!from somewhere outside my window crowds into my senses.Squeak! Ka-thunk!
My fantasy bubble pops and I blink at the ceiling.
Squeak!A heavy toolka-thumpson some surface.
“Fuck me,” I mutter.
It’s Linden. Probably in the throes of some project. It sounds like his crowbar. Did he start working on that dock renovation? It’s after ten o’clock!
I’m so done with him invading my thoughts and my peace. I toss back the covers and march down the hallway.
Chapter Seven
The planks vibrate beneath me,warning me of an approaching visitor. I am purposely using only my headlamp instead of the brighter auxiliary light. There’s no way to soften the clank of the weathered boards hitting the pile onshore or the screech of the nails coming loose.
I glance over my shoulder at the blonde spitfire materializing out of the moonlight.
“What the hell are you doing?” Meg asks in a furious whisper.
“Watch your step.” I point the beam of my headlamp on the section of damaged planks separating us.
Meg stops short with a frustrated gasp. Her wavy blonde hair is tousled about her face and her cheeks are a rosy pink. She’s wearing pajama shorts and a matching tank top. The shorts are loose but the tank is…not.
