Page 46 of Brooke
“Sometimes it happens like that.” He shook his hands and reached for a slate blue hand towel from a company she knew well. “But you were more than I could have ever imagined in person, and so here we are. In my house. A place I hardly ever bring anyone to, by the way. Regardless of what city I’m in. My home is for me.”
She toweled her hands off, letting this sink in. Part of her wasn’t surprised. Many geniuses were protective of their private spaces, preferring to host parties at places they could rent or take over. She could feel the rumblings of more emotion crowding into her already jammed interior, as if her emotions were riding the subway during rush hour. “I’m honored.”
“Don’t be.” He leaned back against the counter after unbuttoning his suit jacket, all large and sexy man. “It seemed natural to bring you here. Like you belonged here.”
Her breath caught, and for a moment, the only sound was the humming of appliances.
He pointed toward the salon, which seamlessly began where the kitchen ended, punctuated only by a rough wooden column and a change in flooring. She wanted to look around, but she didn’t want to miss a moment with him. And that was shocking because his home was a showstopper. But no more so than the man himself.
He straightened and shrugged out of his jacket and then rolled up his shirtsleeves after tossing it casually onto a nearby black barstool at the kitchen island. “I could already see you wearing one of my dress shirts in here, drinking acafé and prowling around. This one perhaps. It was white in my vision.”
Okay, she was totally going to lose it. He’d had visions of her? Here? Likethat? If he wanted to drag her out of her current mood, he couldn’t have picked a better strategy. “Should I ask what I was wearing under the shirt?”
His sly grin was all the answer she needed.
Match. Set. Point. Axel stole her breath. “Nothing under. Color me surprised.”
He laughed heartily, his voice husky and filled with playful passion. “I don’t pretend I’m not a man. And it wasmyvision, Brooke. Have you had none of me?”
Surely she couldn’t tell him about Ivar? Oh God!
“I find that hard to believe for a woman who loves wine-colored roses and velvet.”
He was working hard to bring her out of her mood. Time for her to volley back. “None I am prepared to share.”
She let the words breathe with life between them, enjoying the way he watched her, his gaze filled with the kind of heated watchfulness that made it hard to breathe.
“Yet.”
He seemed content to let the electricity in the air shimmer. Then again, he could probably channel it and hurl it into space with his large hands and powerful body. How would that body feel on her. Heavy?Yes.Powerful?Bien sûr.
God, she couldn’t wait to find out.
She started to tap her fingernails together as nerves and blood rushed through her veins. “Now what?” she asked, the question bolder than she felt.
“You do not have to take control of anything here, Brooke.” He gazed at her patiently, looking very masculine and casual. “I brought you here so you could relax and be comfortable.”
What she wanted to do was climb onto his lap, find out if he really could stop time and hurl them both into the stars—and then explore his house for hours. Now that would be the ultimate distraction. Because she was in the master’s lair and it held his energy and secrets, as all good homes do.
When he pulled off his tie, turning more into a man at home, his words came back to her. He thought she belonged here somehow. That was absolutely tantalizing, the best line of foreplay ever.
“Now that we are here,” he began, crossing to her and tucking her hair gently behind her ear. “Why don’t you tell me what had upset you so? Perhaps over a glass of wine?”
“I’d hoped we’d move on from that. I’m feeling better.”
He raised a brow. “And after? It would please me to have you share. You matter to me, and what happens to you and how you feel are vital to our adventure.”
Shakily, she nodded, knowing he was right. “Okay, wine would be…fine.” She thought back to the earlier champagne she hadn’t finished, the toast to Thea that had been flat on her tongue. Anger at herself snagged her in its ugly net again.
“Ah, my Brooke, my heart breaks along with you.” He wrapped her up tightly in his strong arms. “Perhaps you will let me help you move past this.”
The heat of his body enveloped her along with something else. Safety. Like she could tell him anything and it would be okay somehow. Her arms felt slight as they wound around his large frame. She pressed her face into his chest. The sound of his heartbeat pulsed with her shame at what a bad friend she was, what a bad person, what a failure.
“You are struggling with its weight.” That deep voice rolled over her. “Let me help you carry some of it.”
“I don’t know how…”
“Sure you do.” He kissed the top of her head. “You start talking, knowing I am listening to your every word without judgment. Like you do with someone you care about. That’s me, in case it is not obvious.”
