And there’s that. So much for innocent banter. I walked her and my throbbing cock right into that one.
Brooke chuckles, arching her back to gather her hair over one shoulder, pressing her chest forward, watching me watch her, because unless this building caught on fire right now I’m not looking anywhere else.
“How old are you?”
My eyes snap up to hers. I almost laugh. She goes from suggesting I get her off to verifying my age? How adorably odd.
“Twenty-nine. You?”
“Guess.”
This time, I do laugh, nodding at the waiter as he returns with my credit card and slip to sign. I shake my head. “I have seven sisters, Brooke. I know better than to guess a woman’s age, and I rather like my testicles. How about you just tell me.”
“Oh, come on,” she chides. “Aim low.”
“Sixteen.”
“What?” She clamps a hand to her mouth, muffling her laugher.
I sit back in my chair after signing the slip, watching the vibrant glow move over her cheeks as she slowly eases her hand away.
“Be serious.” She pinches her lips together, fighting the playful smile threatening.
I shrug, standing and offering her my hand. “You said guess. I did. Now, please fill me in on your actual age before I start feeling like a pedo.”
She allows me to help her to her feet and we move together through the restaurant. Her elbow gently connects with my side. “Mm. Nah. I rather like you squirmy and nervous like this. Shame on you for taking out a minor and shoving booze in her face.”
“Brooke,” I press.
“Really, Mason. What will my parents say?”
We step outside and I freeze on the footpath. She spins around to look at me.
I reach for my keys, shrugging. “All right then. I was planning on driving around and finding a dark spot so I could plant my face between your legs. But, I suppose that’s off now. I should get you home. It’s probably past your curfew and I’m not interested in finding out what prison is like.”
“Twenty-five.” She grabs my wrist, tugging me closer until we’re chest to chest, her breaths suddenly coming hurried. “I’m twenty-five. Legal. Very much a fan of dark spaces and heads between my legs. Yours, specifically. I’m sure it looks lovely down there.” Her body vibrates with a quick burst of laughter.
As I slide my hands to her hips, she keeps her head down, staring at my chest, my neck, almost bashfully trying to avoid my eyes while her hands tease the bottom of my shirt.
I like her like this, gentled, and what seems to be a bit unconventional for her. I like imagining that Brooke’s only been this way with me, and that maybe I make her feel a bit undone and out of sorts, unsure of what’s possibly happening between us.
I bend to kiss her forehead. “Shall we find that spot then? I want your taste in my throat.”
She seems to weave a bit on her feet, then mumbles a hoarse, “yes,” taking my hand and leading me down the footpath.
I slowly slide my fingers between hers as we pass a few shops, and my Denali. Interesting. “Have something in mind?” I ask.
She seems on a mission to get me somewhere specific. Determination leading her, along with desire.
Her shoulder jerks the slightest bit. “Maybe.”
She smiles at me. The moonlight slides across her face, a shadow pooling in her dimple.
“I was here a few months ago, down in this part of the city with Dylan and everyone. Juls and her kids were there. Anyway, we took them to this place down the street a bit and I’d like to go there with you.”
“Yeah?”
I can’t hide the delighted lift in my voice, the overwhelming warmth that seems to spread up my spine.
This seems pretty personal for her. I want personal with Brooke. Every tiny detail of her life, bottled up and given to me.
“It’s not anything special.”
And there goes that glorious feeling. I run a quick hand through my hair.
Right, mate. Just relax on her a bit.
She clears her throat. “It’s funny. When I was here before and used this thing I’m about to take you to, my mind was nowhere near the gutter. I mean, gross. There were kids around. That’s pushing it even for me. But now?” She shakes her head, making a soft tsk sound as we cross the street. “Full-on filth. I’m almost a little nervous about this.”
I straighten with intrigue, pulling her closer so I can slide my hand around her waist, so she can tuck against my side and I can feel the quick flutter of her heart against my ribs.
I press my lips to her hair. She smells like honey and vanilla.
“Sweet Brooke. I like you nervous. You get very honest with me.”
Her head tilts up, brows pinched together. “What? When have I ever been nervous with you?”