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We finally rock to a stop in a full-body lock, her one ankle even trapped between the two of mine.
“You okay?”
“I think you saved the day, Batman,” she responds, but her words soften to a whisper at the end of her sentence as those big green eyes of hers look up and into mine.
All the air gets pushed out of my lungs.
She’s beautiful. Scary beautiful, I mean.
I should have a response here, but since the earth has stopped spinning and time has frozen, I don’t say anything at all. I just stand there, with my hands still clutching Brooke’s waist and her arms holding tight to my bare shoulders.
Her chest rises and falls in dramatic waves, and my lungs find it difficult to play their role in the carbon oxygen cycle.
She searches my face, and I don’t miss the way her gaze moves from my eyes to my lips and back to my eyes before repeating that circuit three more times.
Her body is so close to mine that not only am I consumed by her citrusy scent, but I can also tell she isn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts are pressed tight against my bare chest, and I can feel the hardening of her nipples through her flimsy T-shirt.
God help me.
It only takes a nanosecond before all the forbidden, completely unprofessional, dirty things I want to do to this woman start rolling around inside my brain. My head might as well be scrambled eggs, and my dick thinks it’s high time he joins the party.
This is too much.
I need to back away, I know I do, but my pesky limbs won’t seem to move.
I pull my gaze from her eyes instead, as sort of a first step, if you will, but without explicit direction to get the fuck off Brooke completely, it goes to her mouth, and I witness her white teeth dig into her bottom lip. It’s coy and sexy as hell, and I want to slide my tongue across the indents her teeth make in the rosy-pink flesh.
You want to know what that mouth of hers tastes like.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She is too warm, too soft, too beautiful, too tempting…just too much for me in this moment. If I were a better man, maybe I’d be able to resist her pull, but I can feel my body moving toward hers.
She is a magnet and I’m metal, and poof! goes all my control.
I think I want to kiss her. No, you want to kiss her, no “think” to it.
My lips. Her lips. It might as well be the apocalypse right now and we’re the last two people standing.
I grip her waist and pull her closer to me, my mouth gravitating toward hers.
Inch by inch, I close the distance until I’m hardly a breath away from knowing what Brooke’s mouth feels like. What she tastes like.
Bang!
A loud sound cracks into the air, and we jump away from each other like two teenagers at a school dance. It takes my brain a good ten seconds before I can put the puzzle pieces together and understand that it was just a car door slamming near the motor home, but the moment has left the building.
Thankfully, I think. I mean, I am her editor, for shit’s sake.
Benji’s bark is deep and ferocious as he rushes out of the bedroom and starts surveying every window he can access.
Brooke jumps into action to calm him, pulling him back from the window soothingly and rubbing his head between the ears.
All I can do is just stand there, like a dick flagpole, covered only by a towel.
Benji barks a few more times before he’s completely assured that there’s no murderer in our midst, but he finally gives the all clear by heading back into the bedroom on an annoyed huff.
Brooke shoves to standing in his absence, her index finger rubbing a barely there, mindless line across the plump center of her bottom lip.
The silence between the two of us is deafening until we both try to cut through it at the same time.
“I left my clothes—”
“I needed snacks—”
“So…that was…” A nervous giggle jumps from her throat. “Sorry about that.”
“I think we both surprised each other.”
“Yep. Yep. Yep. I was definitely surprised. Super surprised.” She nods so many times I fear she’s going to pull a muscle in her neck.
“Well, I guess I better—” I start to say, but she cuts me off with an “Oh, man!”
I follow the path of her gaze to the floor, where various bags of chips and cookies and candy are scattered on the carpet between our feet.
“I think I went a little wild with the snacks!” she exclaims at a volume that is way higher than needed for our close proximity. “Pretzels! Doritos! Oreos! Chips Ahoy! A bag of gummy bears!” She rattles off each item as she reaches down and grabs them from the floor. “It’s like I had too many options or something!” Her laugh is borderline maniacal, and she rises to her feet again, clutching all the snack baggies to her chest like they’re a life vest. “Can I interest you in a snack, sir?” she asks and hesitantly meets my eyes. “It’s quite possible I’ve grabbed way too many from the kitchen cabinet.”
