Last night after leaving the hot tub, I slipped my pajamas back on and ignored his offer for me to take the bedroom. Instead, I tucked myself under my blanket on the couch, trying as hard as I could to block out the intoxicating memory of Gavin’s body and voice and presence.
When he came inside a little while later, he stepped up to the back of the couch and whispered, “Lena. Go take the bed. I’ll sleep down here.”
Of course, I was still awake, failing at not thinking about him, but I refused to acknowledge his words. Because there’s no way in hell I was going to be able to lie in a bed that’s probably drenched in his scent.
Sleep would’ve been the furthest thing from my mind as the temptation to sink my fingers between my thighs wreaked havoc on my body.
With a frustrated groan, I throw off my blanket and tiptoe into the downstairs bathroom to take a shower. As I lather shampoo into my hair, the conversation from last night bursts back into my mind, and my hands pause.
Gavin saw me with Brandon.
I imagine him scowling down that dark hallway, and my skin flushes hot. But it has nothing to do with his brotherly concern about what’s happening.
No, my pulse is spiking for a different reason.
Fantasies fill my head with what could’ve happened instead.
Gavin storming toward us, ripping Brandon away, and pinning me against the wall. Growling into my neck. Crashing his lips to mine. Burying his fingers in my hair.
I shove my face into the water, trying to shatter the delusion.
Just last night, I told him he was like a brother to me.
It might’ve been the biggest lie I’ve ever told.
The reality is, I’ve seen him as a friend, a crush, a companion.
But I’veneverseen him as a brother.
When I emerge from the bathroom a little while later, dressed in leggings and my favorite cookie-themed holiday sweater that saysLet’s Get Baked, I’m not prepared for what I see through the doorway into the kitchen.
My stomach flips at the sight of Gavin in black pajama pants, muscles bulging out of his black long-sleeve shirt, with Noah cradled in his arms. He’s pouring some half-and-half into a coffee mug while doing that bouncy dance people tend to do with a baby in their arms.
Noah makes a cooing sound, and Gavin murmurs, “Is that right?”
He turns in my direction and pads toward me, his dark-brown hair sticking up on one side in the most adorable way. A lazy grin plays on his lips, and it turns my insides to mush.
“Here you are,” he says, handing me the mug. “Noah made this for you.”
I drop onto the couch sideways and carefully pull my legs under me so I don’t spill the contents of the mug. The scent from the coffee hits me immediately, and my brows draw together. “I didn’t know he knew how to make peppermint mochas.”
One shoulder kicks up in a shrug as he sits beside me. “Apparently, he knows how to Google things already. Kids these days.”He pulls a pillow behind himself and leans back, letting Noah lie against his chest, a big hand wrapped around his back to hold him in place.
Suddenly, a new job idea flickers in my mind.
8. Woman who watches Gavin hold babies.
I’m pretty sure my ovaries are aching just watching this.
“Did anyone check your references before they gave you this babysitting gig?”
His face pinches as he scowls at me. “I’ll have you know, I come with great references. I watch this guy all the time. We’re good buds, aren’t we?” He looks down at Noah’s face as he adds, “Zara came downstairs half-asleep. So I told her I would hang out with him while she went back to bed.”
I have to dig my nails into the couch cushion to keep from melting into a puddle on the floor. “You really babysit?”
My breath stalls in anticipation of his response. I’m pretty sure his answer is about to get me pregnant.
“I like kids.” He shrugs. “I watch them sometimes while Auggie and Zara go out to dinner.” Warm pressure gathers in my chest as he kisses the top of Noah’s head. “Noah and I have an arrangement. He stays happy as long as I hold him, so I keep him in my arms the entire time.”
