I felt like a goddamned genius for inviting Brynn tonight.
I'd pictured an evening full of awkward silences and even more awkward small talk, with Josh's occasional dick-measuring contest thrown in for good measure.
But Brynn kept everything smooth and amiable. She asked questions, shared stories and just generally kept up a stream of adorable chatter that made the dinner fly by. Even better, Josh could barely get a word in edgewise.
It was incredible. She had the whole table laughing and talking animatedly.
I was actually having fun.
As I watched her skillfully guiding Josh's dumb-as-a-doornail date through her love of miniature paintings, I felt grateful. I'd been attracted to her forever. I never realized how much I liked her, too.
When the desserts came out, she squealed and clapped her hands. She'd ordered a caramel creme brûlée with the top crusted over in burnt sugar. "Caramel is my favorite," she declared.
I wanted to put a new alarm on my phone. "5pm Mondays. Find caramels for Brynn."
She leaned over to me with the wickedest grin on her face. "I'm really glad I decided to use you tonight," she whispered. She lifted a bite of her dessert to her mouth.
Then, with her eyes trained on me, she closed her lips around the fork.
Maybe it was the bourbon I'd been sipping all night. Maybe it was my blood rushing away from my brain. Maybe it was the sparkle in her blue eyes. I have no idea exactly what made me lean forward and take her fork from her hand.
But I did it.
I scooped a small bite from her plate. She watched me lift it and hold it just out of reach. "You want more?" I asked.
"What are you doing?"
"I want to know how badly you want it."
"Rett!" She swiped at me. "Give me my dessert!"
"Say please."
"You're a jerk."
"Perhaps. But I still want to hear you say please."
Her eyes flashed angrily. My hand trembled with the effort it took not to grab her and crush my mouth to hers.
Then she licked her lips. Her eyes flicked down to the waiting fork. "Please," she breathed.
I had to dig my fingernails into my thigh as she opened her mouth. Her blue eyes held mine for a moment before she closed her lips around the fork.
I tugged at my tie in a desperate bid to get more air.
"Can I have my fork back now?" Was her voice slightly higher? There was definitely a pink tinge to her cheeks that hadn't been there before.
"You know what you need to say," I told her. She peered at me from behind the dark curtain of her lashes. "Please," she said again, this time with no more prompting.
Something exploded in the back of my skull. Quickly, I handed her the fork and twisted away from her before I completely lost control. I closed my eyes in a bid to steady myself, but the image of her lips asking... begging for permission... made me snap them back open again.
She was completely oblivious to what she was doing to me. She had to be.
Why else would she moan a little with every bite?
"Oh my God," she groaned, pressing her hand to her belly as she scraped the last bits across her plates. "My dress is going to burst off me."
I gripped the table. She had no idea. She couldn't.
I let my eyes fall down the line of her dress and then back up again. "I wouldn't really mind that."
"Mind what?"
It was a risk brushing her hair back from her neck, but I needed to touch her. "If your dress bursts off you."
She widened her eyes.
"I don't think Josh would mind either," I said quickly, to take the heat off me. "He's been staring at you instead of his own date all night long."
I loved the way her cheeks turned just the slightest shade of pink, like she couldn't trust her own embarrassment. "Thanks for making me look good," I told her sincerely.
She lifted her chin. "You can thank me by dancing with me."
My overheated blood reached its boiling point. I took a long, steadying sip of my drink. "Really?" I sighed, feigning nonchalance even as the thought of dancing with her sent my body into overload. "Jesus you drive a hard bargain."
"Remember, McCabe." She rested her hand on my leg. "My prom was here and I missed it."
"You did, didn't you."
She nodded. "Once slow dance out of pity." Her fingers flexed a little. Just one more centimeter and she'd be brushing the head of my cock through my pants.
She was so perfect it was agonizing.
She grabbed my drink, then held my gaze as she finished it, then slammed it down on the table. "There. No excuses." Awestruck, I watched her stand up and extend her hand to me. "Fucking dance one dance with me here," she ordered. "I finally made it to the country club."
I couldn't help but laugh. "Okay, fine. You win," I told her, feeling like I'd won too.