Page 8 of The Proposal
“A chocolate one.” I look up at Renn. “With ice cream.”
“Anything else?” Renn asks. An ornery grin settles on his kissable lips.
His fingertips press a touch harder, searing my body with his gentle yet purposeful touch.
I turn my back to my brother and settle my gaze on Renn’s. His jaw flexes, his eyes trained on my mouth. This is one of those moments where the line betweenplayingandforeplayblurs.
Anything else?Such a broad question, Mr. Brewer.
Our eyes lock as I run through a litany of things that qualify asanything else.
His tongue caressing every part of my body. His hand wrapped around my ponytail, pulling my head back while he slams into me from behind. The taste of him as he comes in my mouth.
I grin. “That’ll be all.”
A low, throaty chuckle is his response.
I enjoy the mischief in his eyes before turning and following Ella toward the hotel.
CHAPTER3
Blakely
“We need fifteen minutes,” Brock says, waiting for me to open the door.
Ella is tucked under his arm, her pool bag in his other hand. She gives me a look of victory, saying my brother is about to apologize to her in ways I’d rather not envision.
I touch the key card to the pad above the handle.They give me a headache.
“What do you want us to do?” I ask. “Stand in the hallway?”
“Fuck that. Take your fifteen in the suite, and I’ll help Blakely get their luggage,” Renn says.
Brock stares at him, unblinking.
“What? I’m being helpful. Do you want to fuck Ella in private or not?”
“Just announce it to the world, Renn,” Ella mumbles as a couple walks behind us. Unfortunately, her attempt at discretion fails.
“Uh, excuse me,” the man says, lightly tapping my brother on the shoulder. “Are you Renn Brewer and Brock Evans, by any chance?”
Ella slips away from Brock and follows me into our room because we know the drill. Fanboying, pictures, and a rehashing of the guys’ stats. An inquiry into the proposed expansion of the American Rugby League will follow this. A handshake so long that it’s painfully awkward will close the encounter—ifthey manage not to draw a crowd. If they do, it’s rinse and repeat.
“All of our unpacking for nothing,” I say, surveying the space.
“This room is a mess.” Ella sits on the edge of the bed. “I’ll tell Brock I’m helping you, and then we’ll go up together. I’m not leaving you to deal with this crap.”
“No. Go with him. It’ll be fine.”
“I can’t, with a clear conscience, leave you to do the work on your birthday trip, Blakely. Come on.”
I snort, swiping my Kindle by the lamp and tossing it into my carry-on. “Oh yes.Poor me. Leave me with Renn all alone.Boo-hoo.”
She laughs.
“I’m kidding.” Glancing up, I spot her lifted brow. “Okay, I’m nottotallykidding. Things could be worse.”
“May I make an observation?”
