Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Instead, her gaze comes back up to mine and despite the fact she stepped under the bar and toward me, putting us in very close proximity, she chastises, “You didn’t need to help me on that last one. It makes me wonder if you just wanted a touch.”
If she’s trying to scare me, she’s going to be disappointed. “What if I did?”
“I’d say it’s inappropriate, given I’m your boss.” She again lifts her chin in what I’d call defiance.
And that makes me want to push her buttons and cross every line even more.
“More inappropriate than you moving in close to me right now? More inappropriate than you almost pulling my shirt down in your office the other day?”
I expect her to deny those actions were anything to do with this crazy attraction we have between us, but she admits it. “Not more inappropriate. The same.”
It feels like a victory to hear that admission. My lips curl. “So where does that leave us?”
“Leaves us in the same position as before. One of us has to have some common sense.” She attempts to duck under my arm, just like she did the other day.
“Don’t,” I growl, surprised at the actual tinge of menace in my tone. I didn’t give that command any thought, but apparently, my entire being isn’t ready for her to give up the cat-and-mouse.
She freezes, her eyes coming back to me.
“I want to test a theory.” My words feel thick in my throat as my eyes drop briefly to her mouth.
“What’s that?” she whispers.
“I’m going to touch you, and if you think it’s truly inappropriate, you’re going to have to make me stop. You can fire me if you want. But my guess is… you won’t stop me.”
Annoyance flashes over her face. “What makes you think that?”
I pull back only slightly, just so I can bend my head to look down her body. I take her in, every sexy inch. “You’re breathing faster—chest rising and falling—and there’s a tiny pulse jumping in your neck. Your mouth is parted, your eyes hazed with just enough desire that I know you’re more than curious where I’d touch you and what it would feel like. More than anything, I know damn well you want to touch me, and you don’t strike me as a hypocrite.”
I give her the opportunity to run if she wants. I won’t stop her if she ducks under my arm. I won’t chase either.
Brienne studies me before giving a tiny shake of her head. “No, I’m not a hypocrite.”
And that, right there, is permission.
With my fingers still firmly curled around the bar behind her, I tilt my head, lean into her, and brush my cheek against hers. She sucks in a harsh breath as my lips move to her ear. I drag my tongue along the shell of her ear before murmuring, “You have no idea the dirty, dirty things I want to do to you. A lesser woman would run, but I don’t think you’re a lesser woman.”
I’m not touching her anywhere, except for my beard brushing her jaw, and yet I feel her entire body shudder within the space between us.
“Are you going to let me?” I ask, the words rumbling from within my chest as my lips graze her ear again.
Brienne’s hands press flat to my abdomen, and my muscles leap at her touch. I pull back so I can look down at her.
Her blue eyes are glassy with turmoil, and her teeth are sunk into her bottom lip. The fact she’s considering it and not slapping me has me on edge.
If she gives me so much as an inkling that she’s on board, I’m sure I can find a quick, private place to fulfill my promise to do dirty things to her.
The sound of laughter from the entrance of the workout room interrupts, and Brienne scrambles under the bar and backs away from me until she comes up flat against the mirrored wall.
Her chest rising and falling catches my attention, and I’m not sure if she’s turned on or if it’s an adrenaline burst from someone almost walking in on us.
“Yo… Drake.” I turn to see Coen and Hendrix heading our way. “Early riser too?”
“Always,” I reply.
As they get closer, Brienne moves from behind the rack and unloads the weight from the barbell. I move to the other side and match her efforts.
“Hi, guys,” Brienne says cheerfully and doesn’t offer any explanation as to why we’re both at the squat rack.
The obvious answer is we’re working out together, but it begs the question.
Neither Coen nor Hendrix ask, but I doubt they would in front of Brienne. Maybe after practice and a few beers, but not now.
With the plates back in their rightful places, Brienne nabs her water bottle from the floor. “Thanks for the spot, Drake.”