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She let him pull her upright and lead her back to the boardwalk. As they walked back toward the car, she tucked her arm through his and tipped her head to rest it on his shoulder. It fit there perfectly, like his shoulder had been designed explicitly for her to rest her head on.
“What do you want to do for dinner?” she asked. The shadows were growing longer as the sun slipped toward the horizon. By the time they fought the traffic home, it would be evening.
“You,” he answered automatically.
“That’s a given.” She lifted her head to smile at him. “I meant in addition to that. Do you want to go out tonight? Or stay in?”
“Stay in. Definitely.”
She liked that answer. All she could think about was getting him home and tearing his clothes off. Going out to a restaurant would only delay her gratification.
Dylan stopped and spun her around, pointing at a figure disappearing into the crowd. “Hey, I think that was Mark Ruffalo.”
“Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “Make a wish.”
“I don’t think it works with celebrities,” he said, laughing.
She wrapped her hands around his arm and rested her chin on his shoulder. “It works if you believe it works. Now come on, close your eyes and make a wish.”
He did as she told him.
“What’d you wish for?” she asked, trailing her finger down his arm when he opened his eyes.
His eyes were smiling as they looked into hers. “If I tell you, it won’t come true.”
He kissed her as the salty breeze whipped Brooke’s hair across her face, getting in both their eyes. Kissing him was sunshine and rainbows and puppies and chocolate cake, but it also made her hot all over. The kind of heat that built low in her center and spread out through her whole body and up into her brain, making her feel giddy and intoxicated.
When he stopped kissing her, she opened her eyes and found him staring at her with surprising intensity.
“What?” she said, reaching up to touch his cheek.
He shook his head. “Nothing. Just admiring the view.”
She grinned. “Let’s go back to my place so you can put your love dolphin in my blow hole.”
He tugged her body flush against his, pressed a finger to her lips, and gazed deeply into her eyes. “Don’t ever,eversay that again. Mygod.”
Friday morning,Brooke woke to the caress of Dylan’s lips on her mouth.
It was still dark, which meant it was definitely too early to be awake. Especially after their many and varied exertions last night, which had kept them occupied well into the wee hours.
“Go back to sleep,” he whispered. “I’m going for a run.”
Evidently he was a lunatic. Just because he needed to keep his bod in tip-top shape for his job was no excuse to go dragging himself out of bed for a run at ohmygodwhattimeisit o’clock when he was supposed to be on vacation. Not when there was a nice, warm bed available for snuggling in.
She reached out sleepily, intending to pull him back into the bed with her, but he was already gone. Sighing, she settled for snuggling into the pillow he’d abandoned and fell right back to sleep.
The next time Brooke awakened, it was to the smell of coffee and bacon, and the sight of sunlight peeking through the blinds. Yawning, she dragged herself out of bed and helped herself to the shirt Dylan had discarded on her bedroom floor last night. Or maybe she’d been the one to do the discarding. The undressing had happened pretty fast and was a bit of a blur. Either way, she saw no reason to wear one of her own shirts when she could wear one of Dylan’s.
She found him in the kitchen, making pancakes. A pan of bacon sizzled in the oven, scenting the apartment with deliciousness. As she approached, he glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled. “I like you in my shirt.”
“Good, because I like me in your shirt too.”
He wore athletic shorts and a sweaty T-shirt, his hair still damp and disordered from his run. It was ridiculous how sexy he looked like that, so she went straight over to him and kissed him.
“Hi,” he said, running his fingers through her hair. “Did you get enough sleep?”
“No,” she replied. “Someone kept me up half the night.”
