“What are you talking about?” He circles my waist with his hands, his thumbs at my ribs.
“I’m talking about what I have planned for your birthday. You need to get up and get dressed.”
“Isn’t this crossing some line we aren’t supposed to cross? Aren’t we supposed to just have sex?” His face is serious even though he’s trying to convince me by his tone that’s he’s teasing.
It’s heartening to know that’s he’s got some unanswered questions like I do. Saying we were just going to have sex to burn up this chemistry was fine, in theory, but it’s unavoidable that we’d experience overflow. Like a potential friendship.
And the chemistry?
Holy shit. It’s just gotten hotter.
“It’s natural, us becoming friends. Honestly, who could just have sex and have nothing further evolve? Don’t answer that,” I say and point to him.
“Friends, huh?” His lips twitch. “So maybe we’re more friends with benefits than having no strings attached?”
“Does it matter what we call it? We’re having sex. We’re trying to burn off this chemistry between us so that we can co-exist without the distraction—”
“Yeah, look how that’s working out.”
Our eyes meet and we laugh. “Let’s not make it anything more than what it is today. I don’t expect you to call me or take me to dinner or to only see me. I hope you feel the same way.”
“But do you want me to take you to dinner?” he asks, seeking further confirmation.
“I don’t expect you to date me. If we end up having dinner, great. For now, what I do want is for you to get your ass moving so we can celebrate your birthday.” I swat at his shoulder.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says and does the fastest gator roll I’ve ever experienced. One moment I’m straddling him and the next he’s above me, the sheets tangled between us, his body pressing down on mine. I want to chuck all plans out the window and strip him naked. I want to feel his hands on me, his gentle yet eager caress.
I take in a shaky breath. “You better go soon or we might never leave this room,” I whisper.
“That’s every man’s favorite gift.” He dips his head and nuzzles my neck before placing a soft, moist kiss under my jawline next to my ear.
“Well, you’ll just have to wait for that part of the birthday present. But have no fear, it’s part of the plan.”
“Score,” he whispers and kisses my neck again.
“Go,” I say, bundling up my energy and attempting to channel it into staying the course. “Go shower or we’ll be late. Go.” I push him off and it takes more resolve than I thought I’d ever need. With him, I’m more in my skin than I have been since I left Connecticut.
He grumbles as he shuffles out of his room and down the hall. I lie in the warm spot he vacated and listen to him going through the motions of getting ready. The shower goes on and I laugh when he begins to whistle, pausing, I presume, when he puts his face under the stream.
Resting my head on one arm, I go over my agenda for the day. It makes me feel like a giddy teen, but I drink in the smell of his simple light blue sheets. Brinn—funny, when did I stop thinking of him as the hulky, hot, good-for-a-one-off McRae?—smells like clean air—fresh and free with a hint of starched linen—and his room is just as crisp. His large bed is centered in the space with one dresser on the wall across from his bed. One night table to the right of his bed and a simple wood desk with three side drawers that looks like it’s long past its prime is tucked in the corner. There are no extras. No books stacked along the wall, falling over. No half-full cups left on the tables. His coins are in a bowl, his keys next to that. His diplomas, undergraduate and graduate, hang over his desk and only one picture stands in a frame on the night table.
I roll over, stretch, and reach it. It’s Brinn and his brother when they were kids. He couldn’t have been more than fourteen and Vann even younger. They aren’t smiling but sitting close on old worn suitcases, Brinn’s arm around Vann. Their clothes are faded and well used, their pants too short, their tennis shoes coming apart at the seams. They look unkempt and I want to cry. I want to brush back this boy’s long hair, pushing it from his eyes. I want to wrap my arms around him in a hug and never let go. This boy, this man who thinks birthdays are no big deal. This peek into his childhood changes me instantly. There’s something in his eyes I recognize, and I’m willing to bet it’s loneliness we share.
I no longer only want to jump his bones every other minute, but now I want to make him laugh and show him how to live life a little differently. It’s not pity because there’s nothing pitiful about him. But when you’ve grown up having everything, you’ve clearly got enough to share. And boy do I want to share with him.
I place the picture back on the nightstand and quickly jump from the bed. From the hallway I can look into the bathroom and Brinn is standing there, towel around his waist, shaving. His skin is tan and I flash back to when I watched him swim in the ocean.
The memory causes my stomach to flutter and my toes curl.
He bangs the razor against the sink, turns toward me, and our eyes meet. Brinn winks, drops the razor in the sink before resting one hand on the overhead doorjamb.
“Are you sure you don’t want to keep the party here? Vann’s out for the day.” His other hand goes to his towel, gripping the fold, fingers teasing their readiness to let it go and drop.
I cover my eyes with one hand and reach out to feel the wall with the other. “Stop it. I’ll not look therefore I’ll not be tempted. Get dressed so we can leave already.”
I feel my way along the wall, but before I can skirt around the corner he steps up next to me. I know he’s there because my body tightens with need. It’s as if we’re on a pulley system that reels me in once we get within a certain distance from each other. I smell his shave cream, sandalwood, and it reminds me of how he tastes. I moan, push away from him, and run out of the hallway into the living room all while he laughs behind me.
“Keep laughing and I’ll take the after party off the table,” I call over my shoulder.
“You’re a cruel woman, Josie Woodmere,” he says and I hear drawers opening and banging closed. Hearing my name from his mouth gives me a warm fuzzy. That’s how stinking hard up I am for this guy.
In the living room, I busy myself with looking at the other two photos of him and Vann. They look current. One is of Brinn graduating college.
Brinn comes around the corner dressed in tan cargo shorts, a solid navy button-down shirt. He’s tucking his wallet into his back pocket when I push him out of the house. It’s either that or strip him naked in his living room. Something as simple as watching him be all manly makes me lose my mind for him.
“Hurry or I might change my mind.” I wait impatiently for him to lock the door.
“Hmm, such a dilemma.” He smiles and turns the key slowly. A sporadic hum comes from his back pocket.
“Is that your phone?” I reach in and whisk it out before he can stop me. A glance at the screen confirms my suspicion. “I can’t believe you forwarded the calls from the shop. I thought we’d kicked that habit.” He reaches for the phone but I tuck it behind my back and step away.