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Cara and her big fucking mouth. "Used to. I haven't been to the club on my own in months. I spend my nights here, by myself." Since around the time Bree and Cara moved into the building, actually. That timing is...interesting. There was something about Bree that night, such bravery over her vulnerability that I admired. More than that, I couldn't get her out of my head.
"Oh," she says quietly. But a flash of something crosses her face. What is it? Satisfaction? Pleasure? Whatever it is, it makes my shoulders relax. She likes my answer, and that's enough for now.
She reaches out and taps my knee through the covers. "Well, thank you big time then. Thanks for sharing your massive bed, and your incredibly comfy mattress. I'm going to get out of your hair now, and get ready for work."
She rolls off the bed instead of crawling. Disappointing.
She heads for the door and I jump up. "Wait," I yell, heading for the closet.
I rifle through my racks. My closet is huge, but there's still a ton of empty space. Still, there's a lot in here. Finally I pull out my favorite hoodie. I bring it to her, bunched in my fist. "You can't wander through the halls dressed like that. Everyone's up." I want to wrap her in my sweater and zip it up myself, but that doesn't feel like a friend thing to do. And friend is where I need to stay for now. So I hold it out to her instead, and soak in her smile as she shrugs into it. The deep blue fabric makes her eyes even bluer.
"Thanks," she murmurs, tucking her hand into the pockets. The hoodie hangs low enough her little shorts are covered. It's easy to imagine she's not wearing anything under it. I cross my hands over my crotch casually, holding down the snake. "I'll bring it back to you."
"Tonight," I say firmly. She's going to be back in my bed tonight. I'll make damned sure of it.
She frowns, "Tonight? Did we have plans?"
"Not specifically, but Declan's got something planned for Cara tonight. I have a feeling he's going to be keeping her busy all night long."
She exhales and tilts her head. "All night?"
I nod, smiling. "Yep."
"So if I don't want to be alone..."
"Yep. You don't have to wait till the middle of the night to come over. Why don't we do dinner? We can order in, and watch a movie or something."
She chuckles. "Make it Chinese, and you have a deal."
"Whatever you want, remember?"
"You better be careful offering women everything," she teases. "Someday, someone might ask you for it."
I want to tell her that she's the only woman I'll ever make the offer to. But the words are stuck in my throat. I can't lose her. I won't risk chasing her away. "Then I'm lucky you're an independent, ornery woman who prefers to do shit herself, and makes me beg to help her."
She laughs, tossing her head back in joy. "Yeah, you are lucky. I'm about as low maintenance as they come. I guess it's a plan. I'll head over after my game tonight. I get to pick the place we order from." She gives me a wave, and she's gone. I drop onto the side of my bed, mind swirling. How do I catch her? Is that even what I'm going to do? Or do I entice her in? How do you make a woman want you?
I need my brothers.
I throw on some joggers and a tank, shove my feet into some sneakers, and head down to the gym. As I push through the door, the sound of feet pounding the treadmill, weights clanking, and grunting fill my ears.
Sounds like home.
I scout out the space, clocking Declan on the bench press, and then pick a brother as far away from him as possible. I grab a spot on the mats next to Colton, who seems to be in the middle of trying to touch his toes. Literally in the middle, his fingers seem to be stuck somewhere around his knee.
"Fuck brother, your range of motion is pathetic."
He glares at me, then scowls at his fingers, grunting with the strain of trying to reach a little further. I stretch my legs out in front of me, then bend, wrapping my hands around the toes of my sneakers.
"Dickhead," he says with a scowl. "How the fuck do you do that."
"Maybe start by leaning out a little. You're kind of chonky."
He gasps, "Take that back." He lunges for me, and I roll backward over my shoulder out of his reach.
"See. If you weren't so chonky, you could have caught me."
He gives me double middle fingers, then goes back to his awkward stretches. The man is mostly muscle, with just the right amount of fat for insulation. He'll never be the guy with his eight pack showing, not because he doesn't have one, but because cutting that much water and nutrition is unhealthy, and Colton would never do anything that might make him weak and unable to protect the people he loves. We watched a documentary on those bodybuilder dudes. Most of them were so weak they could barely function by competition day. No thank you. We'll keep a little padding and stay dangerous motherfuckers.
