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“No?” I repeated.
“You don’t need to apologize. Not for anything. I should, though.” He turned a little, angling himself so that he was sort of facing me, with our legs touching. “I didn’t mean to get so deep earlier, and I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. I’m sorry.”
I smiled, a feeling of relief washing over me.
Brady didn’t hate me. He wasn’t mad. He clearly felt just as bad and weird about lunch as I had.Thank God.
“You didn’t need to apologize, either,” I said. “But thank you. And I don’t mind that things got kind of deep. I wanted to tell you earlier that you can talk to me anytime. About anything.” I swallowed hard, then continued. “I get that we don’t really know each other that well, but… I see you. I know you’re hurting. And I’m here for you.”
Brady gave me a hard, long look, his eyes silently searching mine for several seconds.
“Thank you,” he whispered, finally, drawing in a ragged breath. “Nobody has ever said anything like that to me. Not since—” He looked away, then back again, his eyes welling up with tears. “Not in a long, long time. Earlier, when I asked you that about my dad, I just… I wanted to understand. I just wanted—”
He choked back whatever else he’d been about to say as a single tear rolled down his cheek.
I leaned in, instinctively raising my hand to wipe it away. I didn’t pause to think, I just reacted, just wanted to make things right for Brady. But when my thumb brushed across his cheek, the touch sent a jolt through my body that I wasn’t prepared for.
Even though I was suddenly aware that Brady was looking at me in a way that made me feel very close and very vulnerable, I didn’t want it to stop. And I still hadn’t taken my hand away from his face.
Brady turned his head until my thumb and fingers brushed over his lips, sending another jolt—as well as a full-body shudder—through me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my throat so dry that the words barely came out.
I started to pull my hand away, but Brady caught me, his touch gentle but firm as he held my hand in place and kissed it softly before letting go.
“No,” Brady said. “I told you before, don’t apologize. Not for anything. Especially not for… this.”
I felt a little dizzy, a little breathless as I tried to make sense of the situation. My mind was swimming as my fantasies, my desires—every thought I’d secretly had about my boss over the previous weeks—suddenly seemed to be very real and very much within reach.
Still, there was something I needed to clear up before my head and my heart would let me go any further.
“Brady, I need to ask you something,” I said, my heart pounding so loudly in my chest that I thought it might just burst. “I just need to know… are you… single?”
Brady’s features softened as a wide grin spread across his face. “Um… yeah. Sort of?” He started out tentatively, even looking a little sheepish as his grin started to falter. He stopped himself and took a deep breath, slowly exhaling as he nodded. “I mean… yes. Definitely. I am… Iam.” His smile returned, even wider than before. “I’m glad you asked, and I’m glad to tell you that I’m interested.”
My breath hitched in my chest, and I had to blink hard to keep from spilling the happy tears that had started to well up.
“Thank you for telling me,” I said, suddenly feeling at a loss for words, even though I was happier than I’d been in a long time.
I’d somehow ended up closer to Brady than I’d been when we’d first sat down, and even though my brain told me that I should probably back away for all sorts of good, valid reasons, I couldn’t stop myself from leaning in, lips parted.
Hoping.
My pulse quickened as I saw the heat flare in Brady’s eyes. Then it happened. Our lips met, and Brady’s mouth was on mine, hot and hard, the feel of rough stubble scratching against me as his large, rough hands pulled me closer.
Whatever reasonable objections my brain had come up with—that Brady was my boss, that he needed a shoulder to cry on, that he needed a friend—went out the window as soon as I felt those hands on my body.
I gave myself over to the moment completely and didn’t give a single thought or care to the small, needy noises that were coming from my throat.
I wanted that kiss—wantedBrady—more than I was ready to admit, and finally getting a taste of him felt too good to stop.
I slipped my hands between our bodies, just enough to let them roam over the massive expanse of muscles that made up Brady’s chest and arms.Damn, the man was built like a Greek god, and I couldn’t get enough. Especially not when my touch earned a low, sexy moan from him.
But I had to stop. Ihadto.
I didn’t want just a fling—or whatever this was. And I didn’t want to mess with Brady’s head. I’d gone to his apartment to apologize, to comfort Brady—not to jump his bones.
I had to get it together.
