Damn. The seriousness of our current conversation mademe forget all about the moment we had in her office before lunch. But since she’s brought it up…
“I’m not embarrassed about that.” I shake my head. “At all.”
I know I’ve been out of the game for a while, but I’m pretty sure there is nothing wrong with a man being so worked up over pleasing the woman he loves that he nuts in his pants. If there is, I think I’m probably gonna be wrong a lot.
Brooke’s eyes move down my body, fixing on the front of my jeans. “Oh.”
She’s getting distracted, and her distraction is going to lead to my distraction. And my distraction will likely lead to my hand finding its way into her pants again.
Or worse.
Or better, depending on how you look at things.
Bringing a finger under her chin, I tip her head back, lining her eyes with mine. “Now. Tell me what happened.”
Brooke’s lips press together, like she’s planning to keep everything in. But then the line of her mouth softens and her eyes drop mine. “A lot happened.”
“Like what?” I don’t mind baby stepping her through this, but I need at least the basics.
Before I lose my mind.
“At first, everything was fine. Matt was charming and polite.” She lifts one shoulder and lets it drop. “But I guess he got tired of pretending.”
I wait for her to give me more. When it doesn’t happen, I ask a question that will cut straight into the meat of things. “Did he hurt you? Physically?”
Brooke swallows, the delicate line of her throat flexing with the action. “Yes.”
It takes more effort than normal to getair into my lungs. More strength than I knew I had to maintain my composure. I don’t do it for myself. I do it for Brooke. So she knows I’m capable of controlling any negative emotions I might feel.
“I have one more question, and then we can be done for now.” I tuck my chin, bringing my gaze to where hers has dropped. “Will you give me one more answer?”
Brooke seems hesitant, but she nods.
Forcing an amount of calm I’m shocked I possess into my voice, I ask, “If I ever have the opportunity, do I have your permission to hurt him back?”
Brooke’s eyes widen, like she’s surprised by my request. “Why would you do that?”
The easy answer? He hurt someone who belongs to me. But Brooke doesn’t yet know she’s mine. Yet. So instead I say, “Because he deserves it.”
Brooke sighs. “You have no idea.”
“Not yet, but I will.” I ease away from her, crouching down to pick up the knife she dropped. “It can wait though, because if I’m not wrong, I smell tacos.” I set the knife in the sink. “And eating tacos will always be way more important than talking about that fucker.”
I watch the tension leave Brooke’s body, and I hate that I had to push her. Hate that I made her tell me something, instead of waiting for her to do it in her own time. But now I don’t have to keep pretending I don’t notice when she reacts to me in a way that makes me ache for her. Now when it happens, I can pull her close. Let her know it’s going to be okay. Show her over and over again that I will never hurt her.
I help her off the counter, and then I start lifting lids, my mouth watering at the scent of cumin and cilantro filling the air.
Along with something else.
“Brooklyn Marie.” I flip on the oven light. “Did you make dessert?” I stare in at what is most definitely dessert. A familiar one at that.
“Maybe.” A smile plays across her lips. “Mariah gave me the recipe, but I think I messed it up because it didn’t seem right.”
“I don’t give a shit how it seems.” I pull in a deep breath. “It smells amazing.”
Almost as good as she does.
My eyes find their way to where Brooke is sprinkling shredded cheese across two flour tortillas. For the first time since getting home, I have the opportunity to really look at her.
