Page 34 of Brew
He stares at me wordlessly. His eyes, so rich and yet so dark at the same time, captivate me. His eyes are amazing. I could stare into their cloudless depths all day, but not tonight. Tonight, they look like a storm that’s not just brewing, they’re in full destruction mode.
“You think you see somethin’,Sparky.But you don’t see shit.”
Sparky?
What the…
“You went away for a few days and came back with a new nickname for me?” I twist my lips, amusement in my tone. “Sure you didn’t miss me?”
We’re still touching each other. His hand is warm, slightly calloused like he’s worked hard his whole life, but it’s sending tingling sensations right through me.
“What if I did?”
Holy shit.
“What are we doing, Brew?”
“You’re teasin’ me, Mama, you have been for months.”
Mama.
I am royally screwed.
I swallow hard. Unable to deny it, I try another tact. “I could say the same about you.”
The side of his mouth lifts. “So you don’t deny it?”
“You’re quite the hurricane,” I say. “Not that easy to miss.”
I think he likes that. His eyes crinkle as he half smiles. Oh, what I’d give to see a full smile, or even better, him laugh. I’ve seen the miracle a couple of times, not many, though. Usually, it’s when Sawyer hurts himself, or his brother makes a suggestion that’s ludicrous.
Brew can deny it all he wants, but he has a good heart, and that isn’t just me trying to see some good in him, which I do. That’s me using every instinct I have. I don’t want to feel this way, but it’s like I can’t stop myself
His voice drops an octave as he bends to my ear. “Wouldn’t be easy to miss bailin’ you up against this desk and fuckin’ you senseless, would it, Erica?”
My eyes flutter closed for half a second at his dirty words. “That would be… mildly inappropriate.”
He snickers, and did he just… sniff me? He makes a groaning sound as his nose grazes my pulse point. “You changed your perfume.”
I changed it a few weeks ago. Until recently, I always wore Anais Anais, but I found something a little more fresh and floral.
“Peonies,” I say.
“I like this better.”
Holy shit. Did he really just say that?. I have half a mind to berate him, but his proximity stops me.
“Right about the time I cut my hair that you hate.” Yes, I’m buying time. He’s so close, his hand still holding my jaw, and my palm is straining against his cut.
I’m playing with fire, but I decide if he thinks he’s in charge of this situation, he can think again. Not happening. I’m the initiator here, not him, and that isn’t like me. It’s unnatural for me to take the lead in anything, but not in this.
Why does it feel whenever I’m with him though, I can be myself. Myrealself. The woman who actually wants to be pushed against the desk and fucked senseless by him.Onlyhim.
“Grow it out,” he tells me.
“What if I like my hair shorter?”
“You’re prettier with longer hair. I like to have somethin’ to hold on to.”
