Page 40 of Break Out

“Good night, you two,” Clara says, tilting her chin and looking at Brody’s arm wrapped around me.

“Night,” I say before spinning on my heel, taking Brody’s hand, and striding toward the elevators.

“What the hell was that?” he asks when we’re safely inside our suite a few minutes later.

“Just Clara insisting that we aren’t really dating. In her words, someone like you wouldn’t date someone like me.”

Brody growls.

The man fucking growls.

I raise my eyebrows at him but remain silent.

He runs a hand down his face. “Why does she care?”

I lift a shoulder in a half shrug. “Because that’s the way she is now.”

“I don’t remember her being like this.”

“She wasn’t. I’m not sure if it’s this wedding, her spending even more time with Mother, or what,” I scoff.

Brody nods, opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it. We stare at each other for a few seconds before I say, “I’m going to go take a shower.”

“Okay.”

I turn and walk into the bedroom, my heart hammering. What the hell have I gotten myself into, and why do I have a feeling that we’re playing with fire? I say a silent prayer that Clara won’t actually say anything to mother.

Chapter seventeen

Brody

I exhale when I hear the click of the bathroom door. Shit, Aubrey’s family is difficult. I drop onto the couch, close my eyes, and rest my head against the cushions. But the minute I do, my mind starts to run through the day, and all the times I touched Aubrey when I didn’t have to.

What she looked like in her bikini.

How she felt when I wrapped my arms around her and she relaxed into me.

What it was like to kiss her this morning.

How soft and supple her lips are.

How much better those kisses were than the one we shared on New Year’s Eve.

The discussion we had this afternoon. Her confession that she felt the same way about the kiss that I did.

The gut punch that came with the realization of how much time I’ve wasted this year by not talking to her about the kiss sooner. Let alone how much time we’ve wasted not talking about us.

I wonder if she’ll let me kiss her again. Touch her. Taste her. The thought has my cock springing to attention.

I groan, opening my eyes. That’s the last thing I need—for her to get out of the shower and see me on the couch sporting a half hard-on. Now I’m thinking about Aubrey in the shower. Naked. Soapy. That has me standing and pacing the room, trying to think of anything else.

Get it together.

“All done.” Aubrey’s voice comes from the bedroom. I take a deep breath, running plays in my head so I don’t march in there, toss her on the bed, and kiss her senseless again. Explore her body. I want to. Oh boy, do I want to, but that’s probably not the right move.

“Hey,” she says when I step into the room. She’s sitting cross-legged on the bed in a pair of gray shorts and the Storm shirt I lent her last night. Fuck, she looks good in it. Her wet hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun.

“I’m going to take a shower.” I point toward the bathroom like she doesn’t know where the it is.