A small laugh erupts from her. She quickly conceals it with a cough. “Well, that was all your doing.”
“Actually, it’s yours. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Thinking about me,” she repeats, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “But, you don’t want to do anything with me. You turned me down.”
“I want to do a lot with you.”
I wait until she glances in my direction before I continue. Her eyes slowly reach mine.
“A lot, Brooke. You have no idea how much I’ve thought about doing things with you. I just want to know you first. Spend some time with you. Like this. I like talking to you.”
“Crack.”
“What’s that?”
She points ahead of us. “Crack. Right there. Watch out.”
I look down, careful to step over the jagged edge of the concrete that protrudes a good five centimeters from the flat plane.
Fuck. That would’ve been one hell of a fall.
“I thought you weren’t going to warn me,” I ask through a grin.
She shrugs. “I don’t feel like going back for more coffee. You would’ve spilled it.”
“Ah, okay. I thought maybe it was because you care about my well-being, or something. My mistake.”
She stops walking. I look back over my shoulder.
“What is it?”
“Are you married? Is that it?”
Confusion pulls my brows together. “Do you think I’m married?”
When have I given her the impression that I was married?
She hits me with a sturdy glare as she marches directly for me. “I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking. You aren’t wearing a ring, but not all married guys wear their rings, especially ones who like to jerk off to the idea of other women. Is that you?”
I stare at her, long and hard. Is she fucking serious with this? I grab her hand and pull her in the small alleyway between two businesses.
“What are you doing?”
With a hand to her hip, I guide her back against the brick wall. Chest to chest, I look down at her, trying to contain my anger at this bullshit back and forth while I balance these stupid fucking coffees.
“Do you really think I’m married? Is that the kind of man you think I am? One who cheats on his wife?”
She tilts her head up. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. It wouldn’t be the first time some married guy tried something with me. Although, I doubt any of them would’ve rejected me the way you did. Was that your guilty conscience talking last night?”
What the fuck?
I bend down, inching closer. “I am not married. If I was, I never would’ve invited you to my class because I wouldn’t have been able to keep my eyes off you. Fuck, Brooke, the way we flirted that first day, that wouldn’t have happened. I told you I’m not interested in a quick fuck. I don’t do that anymore. I’m not some young kid fucking around. I want more than that.” My hand slides higher on her waist, fitting to her curves. “Give me more.”
She blinks heavily, then looks back up at me with round, doleful eyes. Her head shakes ever so slightly. “Do you have any idea how embarrassed I was last night? How awkward I felt? I was naked, Mason, and you rejected me.” A rush of air pushes past her lips, blowing against mine. “You rejected me.”
Fuck. I hurt her. I hadn’t meant to. I would never.
“Brooke.”
Her gaze lowers to a spot on my shirt.
The pain in her voice, paired with that wounded look she’s trying to hide from me tears through my reserve.
I tilt my head down. She lifts hers at my sudden movement, gasping as our mouths slide together, searing into a kiss. It’s hot and wet, almost painful as we both reveal our desperation. My body presses her to the brick. She parts her lips with a groan as her warm hands wrap around my neck, fingers twisting in my hair and tugging. My tongue moves into her mouth, tasting, gliding against hers. I palm her arse, wishing I had use of both hands right now so I could properly do this.
She sucks on my lip, then bites it, smiling when I bend further with a moan.