Brinton looked down at her hands, as if transported to a painful memory of her own. “How did you tell her?”
He tipped his head back and winced. Frankly, he’d been an asshole about it. But he didn’t want to hide that from Brinton.
“I said I wasn’t looking for love, which, at that time, was true. But I should have told her sooner, should have been kinder.” Jamie sucked his teeth. “I never properly apologized. Hence, the legend of the Heartbreak Prince.”
Her shoulders grazed her ears. She probably thought he was nothing but an industry himbo. Honestly, that was fair.
“Well, everyone has a chance at redemption, right?”
Jamie smiled weakly and nodded. She wasn’t the type ofwoman he deserved. She was honest, hardworking, and fearless. He struggled with all three, so why was he kidding himself?
“What are you looking for now?” she asked.
Was this an opening? He wanted to reassure her that he genuinely liked spending time with her, in whatever way she’d let him. But the part of him that feared truly baring his heart—and inevitably hurting her when he fucked it all up—throttled his confidence. He needed to ease into it.
“For the record, I’m not seeing anyone right now.”
Her shoulders relaxed, giving him permission to do the same. “I’m sure a lot of women would be interested to know that,” she said, but her smile was uneasy. The room dipped about twenty degrees as she knotted her fingers together.
It was risky. Technically, they were working together now. But the itch, he knew, demanded to be scratched. He had to slip through the cracked door.
“What if I wanna know what you think?”
He only slightly kicked himself for his lack of finesse.
Brinton eyed him inquisitively. “About what?”
“About anything.”
A soft smile danced across her lips, daring him to do unspeakable things. Especially to her Cupid’s bow. It was so damn deep, Jamie pictured teasing it with his thumb. Or sucking it between his own lips.
But he’d never cross that line, not unless she wanted him to. It was embarrassing how much he wanted to.
“I think…”
Her breath hitched, and his gut clenched in anticipation. As if cued by a bejeweled fairy godmother, a few errant braids tumbled down the front of her black blouse. He swept them over her shoulder, hand lingering against the warm slope of her neck.
It was long enough for him to inch closer. She smelledamazing. Creamy vanilla with little hints of something herbal, and her lips looked so achingly ripe for contact.
He swallowed a groan.
They stared at each other, shallow breaths communicating secrets they didn’t quite yet dare to say aloud.
Was it his imagination, or wassheleaning in?
Slowly, she licked her lips, and he was immediately entranced by her tongue. Warm and wet and begging to be tasted. What he wouldn’t give to taste her.
He angled his head. She tilted her chin closer.
“Jamie,” she whispered. “We shouldn’t…”
“I know,” he breathed. “But I can’t stop thinking about?—”
“How it would feel?” she asked, still craning her neck. “Me too. I just?—”
Gently, he cupped her jaw. “Brinton, do you want this? Just tell me you do. Tell me right now, and I’ll?—”
When she moaned, her warmth caressed his lips. Just another millimeter, and she’d be his.
