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Although she did kiss him for a solid minute before she left for campus.
Brooke was still sufferingfrom an epic orgasm hangover when she slunk into her office thirty minutes later. She’d hoped to avoid talking to anyone until she’d finished her second cup of coffee and could form coherent thoughts, but no such luck.
“Yo, you look like shit,” Tara said by way of greeting.
“Thanks, you big flirt.” Brooke made a kissy face as she strode past her to her own desk.
Tara’s eyes narrowed as she spun in her chair to follow Brooke’s progress across the room. “Hang on. Bags under the eyes. Swollen lips. Walking stiffly.” Her face lit up in a grin. “Someone got fucked last night! Was it the underwear model? It’s got to be the underwear model. Tell me everything.” She leaned forward in her chair and rested her chin in her hands.
“Oh, I wish I could, but I’ve got so much grading to do.” Brooke gestured at the stack of exams on her desk.
“No, no, you don’t get to do that.” Tara wagged a finger at her. “You can’t get me all invested in the saga of your high school hottie and then go all withholding on me. I require deets.”
Brooke made a zipping motion across her lips. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“Aha! I knew it.” Tara raised her arms over her head in triumph. “Well done, your ladyship. Was it good?”
“What do you think?” Brooke didn’t bother to hide her grin.
“You never know with the pretty ones. Sometimes they don’t know their ass from their elbow.”
“He knows,” Brooke said. “Believe me.” She was smiling again just remembering the previous night. Best sex of her life was not an exaggeration.
“You bringing him to the picnic, then?”
Brooke hesitated. “I don’t know. I’m thinking of skipping altogether.” She wanted to spend that day with Dylan, not socializing with her coworkers at a lame picnic.
“Mmmm. Bad plan,” Tara said, shaking her head. “You know how the department chair gets about this fucking picnic. Hewillbe there, and he’ll be making a list of who shows and who doesn’t. But I mean, hey, it’s your funeral. You want to ride the wave to Bonertown with your underwear model instead, I can’t say I blame you.”
Brooke scrunched up her face. “Ugh. You’re right. Fine. I’ll go.”
Tara spun back around to face her computer. “Don’t forget, you’re signed up to bring a dessert.”
“When did I sign up for that?”
“You didn’t. I put you down.” Tara shot a finger gun at Brooke over her shoulder. “You’re welcome.”
Great.So now not only would half of Brooke’s last day with Dylan be spent in some godforsaken park space schmoozing with department faculty, alumni, and students, but now she was also responsible for laying hands on some kind of dessert. Fabulous.
Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out of her pocket. It was a new text from Dylan. He’d sent her a selfie along with a two-word message.
Missing you.
There was nothing overtly salacious about the photo. He was clothed, visible only from the collarbone up. But his expression managed to convey longing in a way that had Brooke’s stomach flip-flopping like crazy.
She couldn’t get back to him fast enough.
“I haveto get a picture in front of this for my Instagram,” Dylan said as he dragged Brooke toward the Venice sign at Windward and Pacific. “Will you take it?”
She was nervous about photographing a professional model, but he stood behind her and guided her hands to frame the shot with the sign in the background before jogging over to position himself in frame, striking an effortlessly cool pose. All she had to do was tap to get the perfect shot of him.
Once he’d approved the photo, he insisted on getting a selfie of them together. Again, Brooke felt nervous about posing with a model, but he made a face that made her laugh, and managed to catch a shot of them both looking attractively carefree and happy.
“Please tell me you’re not posting that anywhere.” She was pleased with how the photo had turned out, but that didn’t mean she wanted it blasted out to all his model friends and followers.
“These are just for me,” he promised, and snapped another selfie as he turned his head to kiss her.
They walked on toward the beach, and Dylan reached for her hand as naturally as if it was something they’d always done. Brooke couldn’t remember ever holding his hand before, but their fingers fit together like it was an old habit rather than a new one.
