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He smiles sheepishly. “It’s almost too embarrassing to tell you.”
I place my hand on my hips. “Is that why you didn’t get the first aid kit? You didn’t want anyone to see.”
“We’re the only people here,” he says, and a chill skitters over my skin.
We’re all alone.
I swallow. “I’ll go get the first aid kit. Meet me in the nursery bathroom.”
A while later, we’re standing over the sink. Brandon’s hand is warm inside of mine. I try to ignore the fluttering in my stomach.
The dim lighting of the bathroom casts shadows over his face, hiding his expression, but the air is thick with unspoken words.
I turn on the faucet and run cold water over the wound. God, his hands are so big. What would they feel like roaming over my body?
I clear my throat. “How did you get this?”
“I was cutting an avocado.”
I frown. “An avocado? In your office?”
That sheepish smile returns, easing the tautness vibrating in the air between us. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you go to the kitchen?”
His expression shutters. “I wasn’t making a whole meal. I was just going to eat the avocado as a snack.”
I snort. “A plain avocado as a snack. What a gym rat thing to eat.”
“Old habits. I’m not much of a cook, unfortunately.”
“Well, I’m an excellent cook.” As I dab the moisture with a paper towel, every brush of his skin sends tingles up my arm. “I can always throw something together for you if you’re hungry.”
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even smile.
“It’s time for the peroxide.” I use the same cheerful voice I use with my littlest nephew, Mateo. “It’s going to sting, but it’s necessary.”
He smiles. “I’ve used peroxide before, Mariana.”
Mariana. I guess I’m only “Mari” in the heat of the moment.
I smile. “I was hoping you wouldn’t try to be tough.”
He winces as I pour the peroxide over the gash on his palm. It bubbles and hisses, and once it’s clear, I run the faucet again. After drying his wound, I place a big circular Band-Aid on his palm. As soon as I have it smoothed down, I lean down and press a kiss against his palm.
Holy fuck. What did I just do?
My pulse starts to pound. Heat washes over my cheeks and chest. “I’m so sorry. I was on autopilot. That’s what I do with Mateo.”
When I’m finally able to lift my face, Brandon’s eyes are almost black. He’s closer than he was just a split second ago. His swallow is audible. “Mari,” he croaks out.
Mari. It’s a whisper. A prayer.
“What?” My voice is breathless.
His mouth moves closer. Those full lips hover, and my head grows heavy. A moment later, his soft lips are on my neck. I gasp at the sensation of his hot mouth against my skin.
My hands instinctively go to his shoulders as I tilt my head, giving him better access to my neck. His hands are on my waist, holding me tightly as he kisses a trail up to my earlobe. His tongue must be peeking out of his mouth, because a warm wetness on my skin sends jolts of heat into my belly. I moan softly, my mind spinning with the realization of what’s happening.
