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But my eyes—they’re alive. Illuminated from the inside, bright with something that looks—and feels—suspiciously like joy. I hadn’t realized how much the bone-deep weariness I’ve felt has shown up on my face until now, when it’s gone.
I didn’t sleep especially well last night. Probably because I was too hot and bothered after Brooks’s kiss.
Point being, I don’t have stars in my eyes because I’m rested.
It must be the sex. And Brooks. Guess those two things go hand in hand now.
I cannot believe I had sex with Brooks Huntley. It feels like a dream. I walk gingerly through my hotel room, not only because I’m sore, but because I’m afraid if I make any sudden movements I’ll wake up from the loveliest dream of my life.
And I am sore. There’s an insistent pinch between my legs whenever I move. It feels like a pulled muscle. It’s a delicious reminder of what just went down.
Still. I already feel my core prickling with anticipation of what’s next. My stomach is full of butterflies, making my appetite for food practically vanish. But my appetite for more orgasms? For feeling Brooks’s weight pressing me into the mattress, his mouth on my neck as he shows me everything I ask him to?
Hell.
Yes.
I call the bakery and quickly check in with Hannah and Dustin. To my very great relief, everything is just fine there.
My heart skips a beat at the rap on my door. Hanging up, I open the door and Brooks steps forward, the bulk of his body nearly filling the whole of the doorframe. He smells like toothpaste and looks like a model for a very expensive men’s clothing catalog. Grey wool sweater, dark jeans, suede boots that match his brown belt.
His ice blue eyes are locked on my face as he holds out his palm. The two gel caps look laughably small in his paw of a hand. “Advil. It’ll help with the soreness.”
“You think of everything,” I breathe, my knees wobbling as he drops the pills into my hand. “Thanks.”
He lowers his voice. “The bleeding stop?”
I feel my face flush hotter. His concern is . . . overwhelming. In the best way. “It did, yeah.”
“Good. Let’s eat.”
I can’t believe this is happening. I think it over and over again as we head downstairs to breakfast. Brooks opens every door for me. He stays close, our arms and legs brushing, his hand on the small of my back as we walk across the lobby. I’ve always been aware of how attractive he is, but today is the first time I notice how often women check him out.
I also notice the different way he watches me now. His eyes follow me everywhere. When I sit in my chair. When I get up to visit the well-appointed buffet. The attention is equal parts arousing and unnerving. He even watches me eat. Well, more accurately, watches me pick at my sweet potato pancakes and bacon.
He motions to my plate with his fork. “Everything taste okay?”
“It’s delicious. I just . . .” am too obsessed with you to eat. Meeting his eyes, the full feeling inside my stomach and chest swells.
Oh, God. Something is happening here. Careful has gone out the window, and now all I want to do is get back in bed with Brooks and stay there all weekend.
That voice inside me warns I’m in over my head. Brooks knows how to do casual sex. I don’t. Is this all part of his schtick? Fucking a girl, taking her to breakfast, being sweet and solicitous, then disappearing when the weekend is over?
If it is, am I really okay with that?
For the first time, I wonder what I want out of a hookup. What do I need to feel good about this?
More. Whatever Brooks is giving me, I need more of it. And if the fallout is more than I can handle—
Well. I’ll deal with that when the time comes. In the meantime, I’ll just go with my gut. Giving that desire space—more—makes me feel like I can actually breathe for the first time in . . . forever.
“Talk,” he says. “I see those wheels turning.”
I debate whether or not to be honest. I could easily go with a flirty reply. Something polite and uncomplicated. I’m having a wonderful time. The bacon is so good, right? You have an eye for sweaters.
But instead I say, “I think I just did it.”
His lips quirk into a small smile. “We. We just did it.”
“Are you using my words against me?” I say, laughing.
“Taking a page from your book.” He finishes his second piece of bacon.
“I did it again—I figured out what I need. Well, I figured out a need.”
His eyebrows pop up. He takes a gulp of coffee. “Besides getting laid properly? Go on.”
I bite my lip. “I need you to show me all the ways you can . . . well.”
