Bryson and the super model hit the fridge, probably to load up on carbs they’ll soon burn up in his bedroom, and I’m left in the living room all by my clown-faced lonesome. Suddenly going back to Prescott Hall and watching Jeanie engage in a series of naked calisthenics doesn’t sound like such a bad idea. In fact, I’d rather subject my brain to her sexual performance piece than watch Bryson score a homerun with a runway model.
Cole barrels toward me with his dimples depressed in a frown.
“What’s going on?” There’s a tenderness in his voice that I hadn’t heard since I’ve touched down in North Carolina. It’s the phone-call version of my brother. The one I’m far more used to, even though he was nothing but a lie.
“Nothing’s going on.” I cross my arms over my chest in an effort to hide my cleavage. It’s like I’ve got my boobs set at the right trajectory to launch to the moon, and he’s the last person I’d want to witness the intergalactic event.
“Get some clothes on, would you? I get it. You want to get comfortable before bed. But I don’t want anyone seeing you like this. You’re practically naked.” He glances over his shoulder at Bryson and his pop tart of the night. “There’s a pervert on the loose, and I don’t want him to get the wrong message.” He pulls me into a long, strong hug.
“Yeah, well”—I shoot a look to Bryson who currently has his back to me—“the pervert has a hot date. I seriously doubt he notices I’m even in the building.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.” He tousles my hair and gives a wry smile. “Night kiddo.”
“Goodnight.” I watch as Cole struts into the hall with his bad boy swagger.
Bryson and his gal pal stride toward the exit. “Goodnight!” She waves over at me. “Get in touch with me if you ever want to learn to do your makeup. You should never just slop it on like that.”
What’s this? The star of Bryson’s bedroom rodeo is calling it a night? She whisks her makeup loving, catwalk strutting self right out the door, and Bryson seals it in what I’d like to think is a good riddance kind of way. Doubtful.
“She left in a hurry.” I head over to the fridge and pluck out a water bottle. “Big shoot in the morning?” I don’t know why I went there. It’s probably true.
“Maybe.” He gives a sideways grin and joins me at the breakfast counter. “But I wouldn’t really know. I told her I was tired.” His silver eyes ride up and down my features, and I can feel his gaze as it travels over every inch, heavy and wanting. “What’s with the—?” He motion in a circle around his face.
“Oh…” I bite down hard on my bottom lip to keep from spontaneously bursting into tears. Here I was a trying to seduce him, and I’ve only made myself look ridiculous.
“You look pretty.” He pushes his shoulder into mine playfully. “And, for the record, you don’t need it. You’re a natural beauty.”
My body bisects with heat. One day I’m going to spontaneously combust, and it’ll all be Bryson Edwards’ fault.
“Thank you.” I lean in a little in the event his investigative efforts decide to drift south, but they don’t. It’s becoming clear as the fake eyelash that just floated down from my face that Bryson thinks of me as nothing more than Cole’s kid sister. “So, tell me something about you. I mean, I showed you the girls the second I got on campus, surely that must entitle me to some rudimentary information other than your first and last name.” Crap. A sinking feeling settles in my chest. I totally forgot he’s harboring some deep dark secret from yesteryear.
“I like to cook.”
“Really?” My insides loosen as I relax into him.
“No.” The smile drops from his face as he shakes his head. “But I do like to eat— ice cream tops the list.”
“You like ice cream?” For some reason this dairy connection we’re experiencing makes my thighs tingle.
“Am I from the plant earth? Damn straight I like ice cream.” That hotter-than-hell smile appears and disappears.
He rounds out the counter and pulls a carton from the freezer.
“Vanilla okay?” His cheek slides up one side. “I’m boring that way.”
“Vanilla’s perfect. And you strike me as a lot of things, but boring isn’t one of them.”
A part of me wants to bring up that kiss we shared—see if he wants another, but the aftertaste of desperation is already rising to the back of my throat like bile. Bryson kisses a lot of girls. I guess I was just one of them.
Bryson locks his eyes over mine as the grin slides down his face. He’s bearing into me, speaking in some code I can’t quite decipher. A static charge ignites the air between us as a smile tugs on his lips. His lids dip, and he’s bedroom eyeing me for a moment before taking a breath and snapping back to reality.
He quickly busies himself with the task of scooping us each a bowl of ice cream then lures me to the sofa.
“So”—I slide in next to him with my legs crossed beneath me—“what do you do for fun outside of the bars? From what I hear there’s a party on Greek row every night and twice on Sunday.”
He shakes his head. “Nope, again, I’m pretty boring. Once in a while I’ll tag along with your brother, but outside of work, there’s not much to me. I try to head home, once or twice a month. I like hanging out with my mom and sister.”
I melt a little on the inside. And here I thought he was this insatiable sex god. Well, he was until last weekend, but just the thought of him wanting to hang out with his family makes me want him twice as bad. I imagine his strong hot hands pouring over my body like oil. His heated kisses peppering my neck, behind my ear until he finally finds my lips, and I sigh with approval.
