I frown, reaching across the table when she glances away, turning her face back to mine. “You never have a reason to be embarrassed with me. What is it?”
“Well, it’s just that last night, you were . . .” She wrinkles her nose, hesitating. “It’s just that everything you did, and everything you said, it was . . .”
“It was . . .?” My stomach clenches, thinking I might’ve fucked up. “Was it not good?”
She barks out a laugh, surprising us both.
“Uh, it wasn’t just good, Brandon. It’s like you had a window into my brain. Like you could reach inside my head and read my every thought and anticipate what I wanted. I mean, the backward baseball cap, caging me against the door, and telling me to look at you . . .”
She clears her throat, fidgeting in her seat as if the mere recollection of last night does things to her even now. “All the things you said, and the possessiveness of it. It was . . .perfect,” she says on a sigh. “And I guess I’m just wondering how you managed it.”
The flush in her cheeks deepens as I stare at her, a slow spreading smile splitting my face in two. BecauseTatum Fletcher said sex with me was perfect.
“I’ve done a lot of reading on the subject,” I admit, leaning back in the booth, more than a little proud of myself.
Her brow furrows. “Reading? Like men’s magazines, or—”
“No.” I chuckle and scratch my head, unsure if I should even admit it. “You know all the five-star books you post about and review?” I wait until she nods. “I read them.”
She blinks at me, and her mouth falls open. “You actuallyreadthe romance novels I recommend?”
I give a little shrug, saying nothing.
“But . . . why?” she finally manages.
“Because you love them,” I say simply, knowing I’m at the risk of sounding lovesick. “Books are your passion, and you make me want to see what the hype is about, especially when you’re going on and on about all these heroes and your latest book boyfriend.”
The truth is her gushing has made me jealous of far too many fictional characters.
She stares at me in shock, a mixture of disbelief, embarrassment, and something else I can’t quite name playing over her face. “So, let me get this straight,” she starts. “You’ve been doing your own personal research using the romance novels I’ve been reading so you can basically be a book boyfriend in the sack?”
I frown, toying with the handle of my coffee mug. “I mean, I don’t know if I’d put it that way.”
A startled laugh bursts from her lips. “Oh my god. All those alphas and possessive heroes . . .”
I grin and take a sip of my coffee, considering. “The dirty talk. The door pinning. The hair pulling and panty ripping,” I add, ticking them off on my fingers. “All your favorites, based on your very enthusiastic reviews, are all a part of my repertoire.”
“Brandon!” she hisses, then groans, covering her now-red face with her hands.
“What?” I laugh. “You asked how I knew what you liked. And let me just tell you, those books areveryeducational.”
Tate goes quiet for a moment, her hand tilting the syrup over her pancakes. She takes a small bite, and I can’t help but notice the faraway look in her eyes, as if she’s unraveling some complex math equation in her head.
My chest tightens, and I find myself holding my breath, waiting to see what conclusion she’s reaching—and hoping it’s one that includes me. “I can see you thinking, Tate,” I say, unable to take the silence. “Spill.”
She sets her fork down, a flush creeping up her neck. “Well, it’s just . . . Since I had fun and you had fun . . .” Her gaze jerks to mine. “Wait. You did have fun, right?”
I can’t help but laugh at that. Little does she know last night was the culmination of every fantasy I’ve ever had.
“You were the best I’ve had, Tate,” I say with a straight face, needing her to know it’s true. Needing her to believe it. “Hands down, the best. So, you tell me.”
She nibbles her lip and it’s so damn cute I want to lean across the table and kiss her.
“Okay, yeah, so that, about what you said.” She twirls a fork in the air. “Since we both enjoyed last night, I’m just thinking, maybe we can do it again.” She drops her gaze to her plate where she prods at a pancake, then clears her throat as she adds, “Like on a semi-regular basis.”
I flop back in my seat, and now it’s my turn to gape, because I’m speechless. Completely and utterly devoid of words for the first time.
I stare at her across the table, gripping the edge of my seat with my hands. It’s all I can do to stop myself from dragging her out of the booth, taking her into the bathroom, and showing her what I think of this brilliant fucking plan.
