Page 59 of The Bright Side of Brooding
She must’ve felt me still and stop breathing. I only hoped she didn’t realize just how completely my brain had shut down at the contact with so much of her glorious skin. She looked up at me, a glimmer of pleasure and maybe mischief in her eyes.
“Like my shirt?”
I nodded immediately, and my thumb arced over the small ridges of her spine. “It’s very soft.”
“It is.”
My stomach dropped through the floor, into the basement, and probably through the foundation of the house. The look in those blue eyes notched my hunger for her from desperate to ravenous.
“We should eat.”Let’s get that part over with.
“Yes, please.”
I swallowed and reluctantly released her. She had a pleased grin I couldn’t fault her for. She knew she’d affected me, and I didn’t mind her knowing, as long as it didn’t scare her away. That said, I needed to get my mind off the silken skin stretching the length of her spine and instead finish up the meal. Just a few things to do and we could sit and eat, and I could distract myself from the hounding desire coursing through me.
Minutes later, I pulled out a chair for her, which she happily took. I delivered a plate to her place, then one to my own, and sat. Her face said enough, but she spoke too.
“This is beautiful. And it smells amazing.”
The woman’s eyes actually sparkled. Knowing I’d put that look there sent a flood of satisfaction through me.
“I hope you like it.”
“Do you always plate your food like this?” She sliced into a chicken cutlet.
“I don’t usually have so much garnish.” My cheeks warmed, just a little, though I didn’t mind her knowing I’d made an effort.
She hummed after taking a bite, then smiled. “It’s great.”
I took that for the high praise it was. Maybe she was just being nice, but she dove into the lemony dish with gusto. We chatted easily for a few minutes off and on while we ate. Once finished, she sat back and stared me down.
I raised a brow.
“I’m just wondering how you are. After the museum and everything.”
I wiped my mouth and took a sip of wine to buy myself a minute. Something like this required an answer that I’d like to think about a while before saying anything, but that didn’t work very well in normal conversation. So, I did my best.
“I’m good.Better, I think. It hit me hard, and even coming home yesterday, I felt a little foggy, for lack of a better word. But it was cathartic. Something in me has eased.”
Her bright eyes watched me a moment before she moved. She stood and reached out a hand. I took it and suspected there would never be a time when she offered her hand and I didn’t accept it immediately. She tugged a bit. I got the message and stood. Before I’d straightened out fully, she wrapped her arms around me and pressed her head to my chest.
“Thank you for sharing the experience with me.” She released me far too soon and stepped back before I could even extricate my arms from hers and return the gesture. “Sorry. I just… had to do that.”
The warmth kindled by her affection and nearness grew into heat. At the same time, my heart twisted in my chest—her sweetness and care felt foreign and so welcome, it scared me. “You can do that any time you want.”
Our gazes caught and held. The impulse to take her in my arms and crush her to me, to claim her mouth, and as soon as possible, her body, overwhelmed me. I hammered it back down and picked up my plate, then hers.
“Have a seat in the living room. I’ll be right there.”
“I can help—”
“There’s nothing to do. Truly. I’ll rinse the plates and put them in the dishwasher and join you.” If she thought I was about to let her clean up, she was wrong. Some of her own medicine.
She scowled at me, clearly recognizing the gesture, but grabbed her glass of wine and wandered to the next room. I tore my eyes from her—the smooth expanse of her back and everything else.
Retreating into the kitchen, I made a promise to myself. I’d do whatever I could to encourage her interest in me. I’d do anything possible to keep her—whatever little bit I had of her.
