“Damn right,” he says, and his bluntness makes my cheeks flush.
“Single?” I ask.
“Just a hope,” he says, shrugging his shoulders playfully. I bite my lip to keep from smiling too big, and we finish our wine.Fuck.This crush isn’t going away anytime soon. “Listen, Julian talked to a few of the survivors.” His tone grows more serious, and he looks at me. “It sounds like, for all of them, the interview was fast. Like, within a day or two of them applying. So there’s a chance that they might want you to go in as early as Tuesday.”
I can feel my stomach flip, and that little flirty, happy-go-lucky feeling I just had is completely gone. Instead, I’m filled with panic that makes me wish I hadn’t finished that glass so quickly. I put a hand to my chest, drawing in a slow breath and rubbing it gently, trying to discourage that tightening feeling from creeping up on me like it has so many times this past week.
“Hey,” he says, scooting off his barstool and walking around the counter to me. He puts a hand on my shoulder. “You good?”
I nod and force a playful smile, waving him off with my hand.
“Yeah, yeah,” I laugh nervously. “It’s just…shit’s getting real.”
“Wren,” he says, and there is something so sensual about the way he says my name that it’s almost enough to pull me out of my panic. My eyes dart to his, and the way he’s staring into mine with such concern makes my heart beat even faster. “You are allowed to stop this at any time. If you don’t want to move forward with this, you don’t have to.”
I stare up at him. He means this. But I don’t know why. Is it because he’s concerned for me? He doesn’t want me to get in too deep? Or is it because he still feels like there is some way to save his family’s name?
My heart—and my vagina—want to believe the first. That it’s because he has some concerns for me. But my logic tells me not to fall into the trap of believing that. This is all business, after all.
“I’m doing this,” I say. “I have to.”
He just swallows and nods slowly.
“Okay. Well, tell me what’s got you all flustered the most? What can I do to help?”
My heart swells. I think for a moment.
“Oh, my god. What the fuck am I going to wear?” I ask, running a shaky hand through my hair. “Jesus. I don’t…” But as I feel the panic growing more and more about the idea of being face to face with Cato Everett, his youngest son reaches out and puts his hands on my hips.
And my breath hitches in my throat.
My eyes spring open, looking straight into his big hazel ones.
I feel the warmth of his hands on my body as he tugs me into him. We’re chest to chest, and I’m pretty sure he can probably feel my heart pounding against him right now.
What is happening?
He lifts one hand and tucks my hair behind my ear then slides it down to cup my cheek. I close my eyes, relishing his touch, and I can feel all my senses ease.
“You are not alone, Wren,” he says, echoing what he told me on the elevator. “You’ve got this, and you are not alone. Eyes on me,” he says, and I obey immediately, staring up at him. His thumb reaches out to stroke my bottom lip gently, and I feel like I might collapse. “I’m going to pick you up early tomorrow. Around eight. Okay?”
I nod slowly.
He could have just told me that he was flying me to the fucking moon, and I would have nodded. Then he leans in and leaves the softest kiss on my jaw, sending an electric shock through my body.
“Get some rest, Wren,” he whispers. And then he turns and walks out of my apartment.
BROOKS
Iwrap my hand around my dick and stroke it over and over. I smack my other hand against the cool glass of my shower, and I say her name.
“Wren,” I grunt out as I come harder than I have in months.
Goddamn it, I want her.
Tonight, in that apartment, I wanted her. I wanted to wrap her up, and hold her, and take care of her. Let her know that I wasn’t going to let my fucking family get to her. Then I wanted to carry her to the bed—or the couch, or the damn table, for all I cared—and fuck the anxiety right out of her. Make her forget everything else except for me.
Eyes on me, baby girl.
