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She could never go there with him.
Their friendship was too important to gamble away. She’d never do anything to jeopardize it.
Brooke rushedto finish applying her makeup. She was running late, because she’d snoozed her alarm too many times, because she’d been up half the night obsessing over Dylan and their almost-kiss.
Stop. Don’t go there.
She wasn’t going to think about it today. It hadn’t happened. She’d deleted it from her memory banks. When she walked out of her bedroom in a few minutes, she was going to look Dylan in the eye like nothing had changed.
Desperately, she tried to blend her foundation, which she’d slapped on so haphazardly she looked like an Impressionist painting. She didn’t wear a lot of makeup—it was a college campus, after all—but she felt more confident with a little foundation to even out her complexion. And she needed all the confidence she could get today.
Once she’d done her best with her appearance, she ventured out of her room. As soon as she stepped into the hallway, the bathroom door opened and Dylan emerged in front of her.
Shirtless.
Wearing only his gray sweatpants, his hair still faintly sleep-mussed, looking as sexy as she’d ever seen him.
Their gazes locked, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.
Brooke dropped her eyes, involuntarily taking in the smooth, hairless expanse of his bare chest and sculpted abs. She felt her face heat and swallowed.
“Morning,” Dylan said, and gestured for her to precede him.
“Morning,” she muttered as she hurried past him. The apartment smelled of fresh coffee, and she followed it to the source like a bloodhound on the trail.
Dylan had brewed a pot already, bless him. The guy was going to make some lucky woman one hell of a househusband one day.
“You sleep okay?” he asked as he trailed Brooke into the kitchen.
She glanced at him and caught what she could swear was a hint of a smirk in his expression. Was he teasing her? Did he know she’d been thinking about him all night?
“Yep, great!” she chirped falsely as she opened the pantry and grabbed a granola bar to eat on the drive to campus. “You?”
“To be honest, I didn’t sleep that well.”
Brooke refused to look at him as she got out a travel mug, afraid of what she’d see in his expression. “I’m sorry. I hope the cat didn’t keep you up.”
“No, it wasn’t the cat.”
This was not going the way she’d hoped. Here she was, working hard to pretend nothing was different between them, and Dylan was not cooperating. She was sure he was implying she was the one who’d kept him up last night, which wasn’t something she could allow herself to dwell on.
“I’m running late,” she announced as she poured coffee into her travel mug, curtailing further conversation on the subject of how either of them had slept. “I’ve got another class to TA so I’ve got to run. You’re gonna be okay today, right?”
“Sure.”
“Good. I’ll be home by six.” She put the lid on her travel mug and headed to the door for her laptop bag.
“Brooke, hang on a second.”
She spun around and came face-to-face with Dylan’s bare chest. He was so close she could smell the toothpaste on his breath. As she peered up at him, his blue eyes locked onto hers. Clear. Steady.Intense. Watching her.
He leaned in, just a little. Testing her.
She should lean away. Put a stop to this. But she couldn’t seem to make herself do it.
He lifted one hand, and the tips of his fingers skimmed the top of her shoulder. Heat seared her as the pads of his fingers dragged over the thin fabric of her shirt.
This wasn’t a casual touch. It was an exploration. A dare. Gentle, but challenging.
