“You kissed me just two hours ago. You broke that rule.”
“Eh, it wasn’t part of the game since you made the rule after you initially kissed me at the school bake sale. Therefore, being on the receiving end of the rule, I took it as in nothingmorethan a kiss will happen unless I get rid of the beard.”
I get the feeling Brody has talked his way out of just as many things as he’s talked his way into just by making everyone around him dizzy with his scattered thoughts. He’s also good at causing distractions since we’re pulling into the parking lot of my building.
“One show, then you’re taking me to get my car. Deal?” I ask before opening the door.
“Deal,” he agrees.
As we walk up the steps to my floor, I tell myself I’ve let my guard down. I’m stronger than this, and if I didn’t want him upstairs in my apartment, I would have made my rejection a lot firmer. What’s worse is, I think he realizes this. I unlock the door and flip the lights on.
“If I didn’t say so the other night, I really like your place. The layout is perfect.”
In response, I hand him the remote and tell him where to find the channel the show is on. I then grab a book off my kitchen counter and take a seat on the bar stool as he falls onto the sofa.
“Wait, what are you doing?” he asks.
“Reading?”
“I don’t want to watch The Kardashians alone,” he says, pointing at the TV.
“I didn’t know you needed someone to watch it with you?”
“Well, I do.”
“If I come over there and sit down, you will take advantage of me.”
“Is that a question or a statement?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes,” I tell him.
Brody tosses his head back and flips through Hulu to find The Kardashians, hitting play on a recent episode. Choosing a specific episode makes me wonder if he’s seriously following the series. I give up my charade of reading and plop down next to him on the couch. “Do you mind if I grab myself a glass of water?” he asks.
“I can get it.”
It only takes me a minute to fill a glass and return it to him. “Thank you. I don’t know why I’m so thirsty. Must have been all that ice cream.”
“Must be,” I say, peering at him out of the corner of my eye.
He continues sipping the water from his glass while watching the show, so I quit wondering what he’s up to until he laughs at a scene so hard, he spills water down the center of his shirt. “Crap,” he says. I purse my lips and narrow my eyes, wanting to tell him I know he spilled his water on purpose. “It’s just on me, not the sofa. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried.”
Brody pulls his Henley over his head and drapes the shirt off the side of the coffee table. He’s now sitting beside me, shirtless.
If I look, I’ll know what he’s been hiding. It won’t be good for my effort to fight him off. Yet, it’s like I have zero control and blatantly turn my head to take in the scene.
I’m a bit winded and my mouth becomes so dry I can’t figure out how to swallow. Brody apparently visits the gym either daily or almost daily. Tattoos cover his chest, shoulders, and arms, doing little to hide the array of muscles lining every inch of his core. He’s larger than I thought; he hides the fact that he’s completely ripped.
He points at the TV and laughs again, acting as if he doesn’t know I’m staring at his chest like it’s a Monet painting.
“Sorry, am I bothering you?” he asks, looking over at me.
“Not at all,” I respond.
“I’m sure my shirt will dry quickly.”
