Page 7 of Bad Boys After Dark - Brett
Every sentence brought a thrum of heat. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. She felt herself breathing harder, wanting him to kiss her. Wanting to fulfill both of their fantasies, and finally get her mouth on him, too.
The elevator doors opened, and for a moment neither one moved.
Kiss me.
His brows twitched, a strange expression filling his eyes. He stepped aside, slid his hand to her lower back, and they stepped into the hallway. She kept her eyes trained on the carpet, trying to wrap her head around what just happened, and fished out her keys from her purse.
He took the keys from her hand and unlocked the door, opening it just a crack before handing them back to her. Their eyes locked, the air between them sizzled, and when he leaned in, she closed her eyes, preparing for a kiss.
His lips touched her cheek, and he said, “Sleep well, Sexy Sophie. Thanks for an unforgettable night.”
Chapter Two
FOR THE FIRST time in as long as Brett could remember, Saturday sucked. Carson and Dylan both blew him off for their morning run, so he pushed through six miles on his own. Usually that was no big deal, but without his brothers to distract him, he was stuck listening to his own thoughts, which all revolved around Sophie. He’d finally broken through her barriers, finally had her in his arms, and he’d seen—felt—her resolve to keep her distance withering away. He’d gotten so lost in her, the restlessness that had been his constant companion since he was a kid had lifted. He had it all within his grasp—one night with Sophie—and he’d blown it. He’d relived those last moments at her door a thousand times as he’d pounded out a grueling two-hour workout following his run, and he’d given himself shit for not taking the kiss he’d been dying for. The gleam of interest in her eyes had never wavered, but something strange had lodged in his chest when he stood at her door and she blinked up at him with her trusting blue eyes. Or maybe it was in his head. He couldn’t be sure, because it felt a hell of a lot like it had taken up residence in both areas. Whatever it was had kept him from pushing her toward what he knew they both wanted, and he’d spent all damn day trying to figure out why.
Now, as the evening rolled in, he sat at the bar in NightCaps, and the irritation still clung to him like a second skin.
A host of beautiful women slinked around the bar, fluttering their lashes and thrusting out their assets, some probably hoping for free drinks, others hoping for a hookup, while still others, like the redhead at the end of the bar sizing up all the guys in suits, were probably hoping for a diamond ring. Not one woman piqued his interest.
How could they when Sophie has imprinted herself in my fucking mind?
If he didn’t get Sophie out of his head he was going to lose his shit. He took a long pull of his beer, then rubbed his hand against his thigh, trying to forget the lingering feel of Sophie’s softness against it.
“You look like hell,” Dylan said as he pushed a beer across the bar. “Tiffany said she saw you leave with Sophie last night. Did you two finally get together?”
“We had a good time,” he answered vaguely.
“Seriously? I guess I just lost ten bucks.” Dylan wiped down the bar with a concerned look on his face.
“Who’d you bet? Carson?”
“No, Tiff. She was sure you’d sway Sophie to the sinful side. My money was on Sophie. I can’t believe she finally gave in to you. I guess I’m happy for you, because you’ve been trying to get with her for so long, but don’t hurt her, man. She’s Mick’s assistant, and neither he nor Sophie need trouble.”
“Fuck, Dyl. I’m not a dick.” A stab of guilt sliced through him. Whether that guilt was caused by Dylan believing they’d hooked up when they hadn’t, or because Dylan knew that when it came to women, Brett was a once-and-done type of guy, he didn’t know or care. The guilt lodged in his chest, digging deeper with every thought of her.
Dylan cocked a brow.
“Okay, I can be a dick, but I wasn’t. Sophie and I had a good time, but we didn’t hook up.”
“That’s probably a good thing, considering you’re working in Mick’s office Monday,” Dylan reminded him. There had been a rash of hacks into celebrity cell phones and computers, including two of Mick’s clients. Even though Brett and Carson’s company, Elite Security, had ensured Mick’s proprietary data was locked down tighter than Fort Knox and none of Mick’s files had been hacked, they were testing the systems just to be sure.
