She reaches for her belt. I can’t remember her ever taking it off.
“Can we drive some more? Maybe around here? The stars are insane right now.” She dials up the volume on the stereo, tilting her head to see out the windscreen. Ed Sheeran fills the car.
On second thought . . .
Maybe I haven’t spoken out of line at all?
Relief warms my blood. I melt against the seat as I shift the car into reverse.
We drive for hours, chasing the moonlight all over Chicago. Our conversation couldn’t be more random. We talk about everything. Her job, my home-life back in Australia, our favorite movies. Brooke rambles about her family, her sister Juls and her niece and nephew. How she’s living with Joey and his husband until she saves up enough for a place of her own. Sometimes we drive in silence, listening to the radio or nothing at all when Brooke grows agitated with the music selections. It’s comfortable, and easy. God, it’s easy talking to her. There’s no awkward pauses, no need to feel like you have to keep the conversation going. She makes a few more cracks about animals native to Australia, and whether or not I kept any of them as pets.
“Yeah,” I tell her, containing my amusement. “We kept a few crocs in our backyard. Mum didn’t care much for the safety of her children.”
She giggles into the night. The wind blows her hair around her and she tries frantically to tame it.
Fuck, she is precious.
I pull up in front of the Tavern after I catch a few yawns out of her. The footpath is quiet. It’s nearing 1:00 A.M. .
I feel wide awake. Drunk and high off Brooke. Reveling in this addiction I don’t want to fight.
She stares down at her lap after removing her seatbelt.
I fight the urge to drive off with her and bypass the goodbyes.
“I feel like you tricked me into agreeing to dinner,” she mumbles, looking over at me with a weak smile. “That seemed very calculated on your part.”
I lean across the console and kiss her cheek. “Not sure I know what you’re referring to. But calculated or not, you make the best sounds when you come.” I pull back, smiling at the heavy look that’s in her eyes, the same one she had in the field when I slid my finger over the smooth rise of her clit.
She wets her lips, then pulls the door handle and exits the car in a hurry.
“Yeah . . . okay, well, I guess I’ll see you this weekend sometime.”
“I’m just across the street, Brooke. You’ll see me before this weekend.”
She blinks rapidly, then nods once, her hand pushing her hair off her shoulder. “Mm. Right. You need to commit to your stalker status. It would be weird at this point if you didn’t follow me to get coffee, or do random drop-ins at my place of business.”
I chuckle, resting my elbow on the console. “What are you doing tomorrow morning?”
“Working.”
“Before that.”
She stares at me with the most curious expression. It’s so sweet I want to reach out and tug her back into the car, pull her against me, feel the grin she’s fighting against my mouth.
“Sleeping,” she answers, her bold eyes searching my face.
God, what I wouldn’t give to see her like that. First thing in the morning, sleep-rumpled and soft against my sheets. Her body tucked against mine while I watch the morning light pass over her skin.
With a jerk of my chin, I clear that image out of my head before it renders me incapable of getting my next words out. “Meet me for breakfast? There’s this spot I saw the other day when I was driving around. Just down the way a bit from the coffee shop.”
“Rosie’s,” she offers with a soft voice. Her teeth run along her bottom lip. “Yellow umbrellas out front?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“They have amazing breakfast foods. Like life-changing amazing.” She lowers her eyes to a spot between us, gathering her hair over one shoulder and twirling her fingers in it. She seems a bit unsure all of a sudden, like she can’t decide whether to bolt or stand here and continue talking to me.
“So, is that a yes?” I ask her, ducking my head a little.
“I don’t know.”
“It’s just breakfast, Brooke. You’re going to eat it anyway, yeah?”
Her eyes flick up to mine, but she doesn’t respond.
I smile, hoping to get one in return. “Do I need to pull you back in here and ask that question with my hand up your dress?”
She purses her lips, fighting it, fighting me. Her arms cross tightly under her chest as she stands a little taller. “You’d be wasting your time.”
“Hardly.”
“You would. I’m not a multiple orgasm type of girl. It’s nearly impossible to make me come more than once.”
“Really?”
“Yup.”
“I’ll remember to remind you of that when you’re begging me for a break.” We share a brief laugh, hers a little disbelieving. I look at her straight on and bite back the urge to beg for this. “Come on, Brooke. Meet me for breakfast tomorrow. Let me have you first thing in the morning.”