Brooks chuckles. “Open the damn door, Doc.”
“Fine,” I say, as if it kills me to give in to him.
And there he stands. Black joggers span his long legs, and a white T-shirt peeks out from a gray hoodie. A black baseball hat sits backward on his head, allowing me a clear view of the scruff dotting his jawline.Does he just wake up this delicious?
“Good morning, beautiful,” he says, toggling a bag in the crook of his arm. He gives me a satisfied smirk as if he knows he’s gotten to me already.
“Don’t try to butter me up,” I say.
“Well, that answers that.”
He makes a face at me as he walks by. The air dances with the scent of his cologne mixed with something fresh.Body wash? Laundry detergent?I can’t make it out, but the combination is heavenly.
“I need to throw some clothes on and brush my teeth,” I say, taking a step back just in case I have morning breath.Some of us don’t get out of bed looking perfect.
“Okay. I brought lunch. Are you hungry?”
“You can just leave it on the table and then let yourself out.” I smile at him.Sweetly.“Good to see you.”
He smirks, plopping the bag down on the table. “I like it when you’re sexually frustrated. This is going to be fun.”
“I think you misunderstood the assignment.”
“Oh, trust me, Doc.” His eyes flash with mischief. “I understand the assignment perfectly.”
Our gazes lock, lingering so intimately that it’s indecent. Neither of us looks away. Neither of us blinks. The heat betweenus rises, growing more charged and electric as the seconds tick by, and my pulse quickens.
It feels like he’s playing a game with me, but he’s not. He wants me as badly as I want him. I can see it.I can feel it. I can almost taste the temptation in the air. Knowing a man like him—a beautifully controlled storm—wants me is an aphrodisiac like no other.
“Get dressed and let’s eat,” he says, turning back to the bag.
“He says he understands the assignment and then tells me to get dressed,” I say just loud enough for him to hear as I turn my back to him.
My bare feet smack against the hardwood as I race back to my bedroom. Every piece of me tingles and goose bumps race across my skin. I can feel a part of my brain waking up and activating for the first time in far too long. Maybe ever.
And, somehow, it makes sense. With Brooks, I’m freer, feel funnier, and more alive than I’ve been in years. Maybe Heraclitus was right—the tension of opposites generates the music of life.
It takes three minutes to throw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and run my toothbrush around my mouth. I skip skincare and the calf raises that I like to do in the morning because knowing Brooks is in the other room and we’re about to revisit our conversation from last night,I hope,makes me want to run to the kitchen.
But I don’t. I half-run like a lady.
Mom would be proud.
Brooks is digging through the bags when I return.
“Piper’s makes the best chicken sandwich in the universe.” He pops open the top of one of the bigger containers. “It’s crispy chicken with cheese, some kind of aioli, pickles, and Piper’s homemade slaw.” He looks up at me. “Sound good?”
“Sounds even better if you also brought fries.”
“Of course. I’m not a monster.” He opens a small box filled with golden brown steak fries. “I forgot ketchup, though.”
“That won’t be the worst thing you’ve done to me in the last twelve hours.” I pull two glasses from the cabinet and make us each a tea. I don’t have to turn around to know he’s trying to suppress a chuckle. “Thank you for bringing food. I have nothing left here besides an apple and a jar of peanut butter. I need to go to the store today.”
He pops a fry into his mouth as he organizes the food. “How are you feeling this morning?”
I shrug. “Okay. I will say, though, that drinking is overrated. Beer tastes like garbage, and it sloshed around in my stomach all night.”
“As I said, it’s an acquired taste. Definitely not for everyone.”
