Page 28 of Defended By Bam
I held the phone out but he pushed it back. “Hold on to that. My number’s saved on it. And you left yours behind.”
“Oh. Thanks, but you don’t have to do that.”
“It’s no sweat. Coffee will be ready soon. C’mon.”
Hesitantly, I followed him to the kitchen. His back had several tattoos, all just black ink. And it was muscular and wide. Would it be rude to ask if he could wear a shirt? Because my hormonesand emotions were completely out of whack and I wasn’t sure how much more of him walking around like this I could handle.
“How’d you sleep?” he asked as he stood by the coffee pot, two mugs out in front of him.
Shrugging, I said, “Not bad. Thanks for the bed.” What a weird statement.
“You must have been exhausted.”
“Huh?” I asked as I sat at the table.
He pulled the carafe out and poured coffee into both mugs, then turned to get creamer from the fridge. He added some to mine, then walked over with both mugs, passing one to me before going to sit at the table. “You ran to bed so fast after dinner. You must have been beat.” My brows furrowed, and his head dropped. “Shit. I just meant tired.”
“Oh. Yeah. Weird few days.” I sipped the coffee, and my eyes closed. It had the perfect amount of creamer and was already sweet. He got the good creamer.
“I’m sure. But it seemed like you couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”
I froze as his words hit me, the mug hanging in mid-air just inches from my lips. “I–why would I want to do that?” Smooth. Totally smooth.
He sat his mug on the table, then leaned forward. “Look, Brooklyn. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have gotten so close, especially after you’d been drinking. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. If you want, I’ll make arrangements for you at the clubhouse until we get you sorted out.”
“Wait.”What the fuck? “Are you kicking me out?” I put my mug down, suddenly wanting to cross my arms over my breasts.
“That’s not what I said. Isaidif you’re uncomfortable, I can have you put somewhere else. I obviously don’t mind you being here.” He leaned back, his posture relaxed but also oozing confidence.
Okay, so maybe I did twist his words a little. But it was because I wasn’t sure how to reply. Do I beg him to let me stay here and ogle him shirtless every day? Or just casually say whatever?
“Brooklyn?”
“I don’t know how to respond to that. I’m uncomfortable, but not how you think.” Well, fuck.
“So I do make you uncomfortable?” He straightened a little in his chair.
Get it together, Brooklyn.You’re on the run from your abusive baby-daddy.This man has seen your face smashed, been kind to your kid, and gave you a hideout.Why are you scared? Just say it.
“I’m uncomfortable because I don’t knowhowI feel the way I do. I’m uncomfortable because I haven’t felt things that I’m feeling in a long time and none of it makes sense. And I’m uncomfortable because I wanted you to kiss me and you didn’t. And now I’mreallyuncomfortable because I just said all of that out loud.”
His demeanor didn’t change, nor did his posture. But his dark eyes were fixed on me. The longer they lingered, the worse I felt. I wished I could evaporate into dust. My brain worked overtime to replay what I said over and over in a matter of seconds. It was like a computer program scanning for viruses but instead of identifying the bad stuff and eliminating it, it was playing it back like a movie. A horror movie. Over and over.
“I don’t mean likethosekind of feelings,” I blurted out. That was worse.My God woman, shut up.
He finally shifted in his seat, reaching for his coffee. “Brooklyn, you’ve had a fucked up few days. Probably longer than that, but I’m only speaking on what I’ve personally observed.” He took a sip, and I was momentarily grateful for now focusing on the way he said my name instead of all the shit Itold him. But why did it have to sound so sexy? “I’m sure you’ve got a lot going on upstairs, so it’s normal to be confused.”
Confused?Is he mansplaining my emotions?I guess I did sort of say I was confused but not about what felt, just why and how. I put my hand up. “You don’t have to do this.”Please stop talking.Both of us could just be silent and maybe this would just be forgotten.
“I’m not doing anything,” he said, his brows raised.
I grabbed my coffee and took a sip, then another. “Can we just forget the last twelve hours, right up until sixty seconds ago?”
He nodded. “I have some errands and then some club stuff to do later. I’ll be out late. I can take you to the clubhouse or have someone come here.”
The stark change in conversation was welcome but also jarring. “Why? Do you think there’s a reason I should be worried here?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. On one hand it's great there was no missing persons report. But on the other hand, why wasn’t there?”
