Page 87 of Brew
“Yeah, I don’t like fuckin’ you with clothes on.”
I blink once, twice…Did he really just say that?
“Wow, don’t be shy about it.”
“You want me to be shy?” He wets his bottom lip, his eyes dropping to my mouth. “I can do that.”
“I doubt that’s possible, you’re too broody to ever act shy.”
“I meant in the bedroom.”
I put a hand over my mouth, stifling a laugh. “You’re kidding?”
“You think I can’t lie on my back and watch you ride me?”
Oh, my god.
I clear my throat, almost choking on my own saliva. “Wow, filters aren’t a thing with you, are they?”
“Better get used to my dirty mouth if we’re gonna do this,” he says.
I bite down on my lip. “What are wedoing, exactly?”
“I’m better with my hands than with words.”
“Is that right?”
“You be the judge.”
He turns as I watch him pour the hot water into a mug, jiggling the teabag. “I’ve got half and half,” he says over his shoulder.
“Perfect.”
“Sugar?”
“I’m sweet enough.”
His shoulders shake with laughter and it makes my heart sing that I can make him laugh. He walks to the fridge, and I feel I’m edging just watching him. I want to reach out and touch him. I want to enjoy every inch of him, but it looks like he’s in no hurry to get his hands on me.
“You gonna show me the letter?”
I inhale, then rummage around in my bag. “I guess you should probably read it.”
He slides my tea across the counter as I hand him the letter. His eyes are dark and I’m not sure I like what I see in them now. I’ve come to realize that Brew is a possessive man, and not in an overbearing way. In his eyes, I’m his, and he will do whatever it takes to protect me. “Just don’t get mad.”
“Not mad at you,” he grumbles, then he casts his eyes downward and begins to read.
After a few solid minutes, he lays the paper down on the countertop. “Son of a bitch.”
“I think we can both agree on the fact he’s delusional.”
“I made some calls,” he says out of nowhere. “About the possibility of his release, and I can’t say I’ve got great news. You know how lawyers are with technicalities.”
“That’s exactly what I don’t get,” I say. “He can get away with all of that, just on a whim. How is that fair?”
“It isn’t fair. Life is a fuckin’ hard, Mama, but I won’t let him get to you even if he does get out.”
“I know that, and I’m thankful for you and the club, but if he does get out, how can we live like this? Looking over our shoulders all the time?”
