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So they went to dinner. And they didn’t talk about the kiss—kisses—at all. They managed to talk about pretty much everything else while they stuffed their faces with Mexican food.
Which was good. They didn’t need to talk about it anymore. They’d dealt with it like adults and both moved on. No need to dwell.
Except Brooke couldn’t seem tostopdwelling on it. Now that she knew what it was like to kiss Dylan—reallykiss him—how was she supposed to think about anything else? Especially now that she knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
Hadwanted her, for who even knew how long.
How in the chocolate-covered fuck was she supposed to not think aboutthat?
Chapter Eleven
Dylan insisted on paying for dinner. Brooke tried to protest, but they both knew he made a lot more money than her, so she didn’t protest too much.
They were both quiet on the drive home from the restaurant. Although things seemed mostly back to normal on the surface, there was still some detectable awkwardness between them. They were each being a little too careful, a little too deliberate in their choice of conversational topics, as if they were afraid of venturing back into dangerous territory.
Brooke’s hands squeezed the steering wheel as she waited at a red light, and her knee jiggled with impatience.
“You okay?” Dylan asked.
Brooke nodded without looking at him. “Yeah, fine.”
The light changed and she drove the rest of the way home, growing increasingly nervous as they neared her apartment. She couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss he’d given her tonight. About everything she’d said no to. She’d wanted Dylan pretty much since she’d known what it was to be attracted to someone, and when she’d finally had her chance she’d turned him down.
Was she nuts?
Brooke wanted him more than ever now that she’d had a taste, and knowing Dylan wanted her back made it that much harder to repress her urges. Now that their mutual attraction was out in the open, everything felt even more charged between them.
Would they ever get back to normal? And what was she supposed to do when they got back to her apartment? When it was just the two of them, alone, in a small space with a bed conveniently near?
Brooke parked the car in her assigned parking space, and Dylan followed her upstairs. She set her purse down and kicked off her shoes. When she turned around, he was leaning into the fridge for a beer. Her eyes dropped to his backside. How had Penny described it? Like two ripe apples.
“You want a beer?” he asked.
Brooke licked her lips, her eyes drinking in the delicious sight of him. The way those damn jeans hugged him like a glove.
Dylan turned around, and she tore her eyes away from him.
“What?” he said, reaching for the bottle opener.
“Nothing.” She walked into the living room and stooped to pick up a cat toy Murderface had left in the middle of the floor.
It was way too tempting to give the finger to common sense and kiss Dylan again. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up ruining this amazing friendship because she liked the way his ass looked in his jeans.
Don’t think about it. Don’t touch him. Don’t even look at him.
“Talk to me.” Dylan followed her and set two beers on the coffee table. “I know something’s bothering you.”
Brooke shook her head. “I think I just have to get used to the sea change. All these years, I assumed you didn’t see me like that. And now suddenly you do, and…everything feels different.”
His brows knitted over his aquamarine eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put my feelings on you like that.”
“No, it’s…good. It’s not like I wasn’t feeling the same way, and it’s flattering, you know?” Tension hung over them in a thick, choking cloud. She tried to break it with a joke. “I guess I can get it after all.”
His answering smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ve always been able to get it.”
“Yeah, right,” she muttered.
His gaze locked on hers and she swallowed, unable to look away. “Brooke, the truth is…” He took a step toward her and stopped, frowning.
