Winning Brynn (Seattle Strikers)

31. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Brynn

Salem loves the cat. But unfortunately for Salem, the cat does not love her.

In Gordon's defense, he is only the size of a grapefruit and missing twenty-five percent of his limbs, so I'd probably be terrified of her too if I were him.

Besides, the girl can really rack up some speed when she's got her sights set on something. And God knows there's nothing in this world stronger than a toddler when they're gripping something they desperately want—which is exactly how Gordon almost lost his good ear.

Leo and I have, therefore, made the executive decision to keep him in my bedroom during Salem's waking hours, which, quite honestly, is a relief for me. Since I still don't trust Leo not to take him back to the shelter while I'm distracted. And best believe, I gave him hell when he returned from his first attempt at abandoning Gordon.

I even tried to get Alex on my side to rip him one too, but somehow, he ended up defending Leo instead. Something about it being his apartment and that I can't just bring animals into his home without asking, blah, blah, blah.

Anyway, I'm still mad about it, but I'm trying to be nice.

He brought the cat back, after all.

"Okay, I have a question," I declare abruptly, making Leo jolt in surprise where he sits beside me on the sofa as we dig into containers of Chinese takeout.

Salem has been asleep for hours now, and he ordered the food while I was putting her down for the night. Not that he had a choice. The poor baby passed out cold on my chest with a fistful of squished banana.

"Why do you pronounce the 'h' in herbs, but not vehicle ?"

His expression twists into something that makes me feel like he's calling me an idiot with just his eyes. "Because it makes sense."

I tap my chin in thought. "It doesn't, though."

Twirling noodles around on his chopsticks, he lifts them to his mouth. Ugh. Of course he can use chopsticks. The man is annoyingly adept at everything.

"I mean, you say the 'h' in herbivore, so why wouldn't you say it in herb ?"

Eh. He's got a point there.

"Alright, fine." I can bite the bullet and concede this argument, but only because I'm being nice. "But what about vehicle ?"

He lifts another mouthful of noodles to his lips with perfect precision, while I stab at mine with a fork. "It follows a vowel, so it's not a hard 'h.' Every time you pronounce it that way, it just sounds like you're doing a hiccup." He pauses, his thick brows pulling tight until three straight lines appear between them. "Why are we even talking about this?"

"I was just wondering. You talk kind of stupid is all."

He laughs then. And it's this deep, loud sound that bubbles from the deepest parts of him and spills out into the space like sunlight. Fuck, I shouldn't like that sound so much. I shouldn't want to make him do it again.

I'm his nanny.

My brother would murder him.

He's an asshole.

"Baby, my country invented the language. You just borrowed it and fucked it up."

My breath catches.

Baby.

Did he just call me baby?

And now I'm freaking out because I'm pretty sure he did, indeed, just call me baby, and I don't know if he meant it in a sexy, flirty kind of way, or if it's just something he calls every woman he talks to. Hell, I don't even know if he realizes he said it at all. His expression is relaxed, and casual, and not at all reflective of the nervous breakdown I'm currently experiencing.

So, I do what I do best.

I twist the conversation into something I'm far more comfortable with.

A fight.

Stabbing at a piece of kung pao chicken with my fork, I grumble, "I'm angry."

"At me?" He lifts an eyebrow but doesn't even raise his eyes to look at me.

I scoff. "Obviously."

Setting his box of chow mein on the coffee table, he turns to me with a sigh. His black tee tightens around his bicep as he leans his arm on the back of the sofa. It really shouldn't be fair for a man to be so hot, but I've learned the hard way that Leo doesn't give two shits about fairness. "Is this about the vehicle thing or something else?"

"I just remembered that you were gonna kill my cat."

His lips twitch as he fights a smile. He knows what I'm doing, I can see it in the sparkle of his eyes, and yet he lets me do it anyway. "But I didn't."

"You nearly did."

"But I didn't."

"But—"

"No," he cuts me off, pressing a thick finger to my lips. "I didn't, and that's the end of that."

And just like that, whatever I was about to say dies a quick death on my lips, trapped inside by the softness of his touch. The urge to argue dissolves into thin air. I can't even remember what we were arguing about anyway.

All I know is the sensation of his skin against my mouth. Warm but not clammy. Callused but soft. Gentle yet strong at the same time.

I go to lean back, but his touch follows me.

My lips part in surprise, which only works to make the moment infinitely more confusing.

Because now I'm breathing against him, my lips pressed against the pad of his finger in the shape of a French kiss. I can almost taste him. My mouth waters with the need to dart my tongue out and suck the digit into my mouth like a promise of things to follow.

Leo's expression morphs into a slow smirk that is infuriatingly sexy and nowhere near as annoying as it should be. His eyes glint with both amusement and something else entirely. Something more dangerous and frightening than any argument or conflict we've had up until this point.

Something a lot like desire.

And what's worse is that I know my eyes are reflecting the very same thing.

His gaze falls to the point where his finger meets my lips and darkens. Butterflies erupt in my stomach as my breathing grows shorter against his finger. He tugs his own lip between his teeth, his breaths falling as shallow as mine.

And because I'm me, I break the moment and state the obvious. "Are you going to kiss me?" I whisper against his touch.

He grins. And it's this wicked thing, all cocky and dripping with sex. "I'm thinking about it."

"Why would you do that?"

Way to go, Brynn.

Men love nothing more than being interrogated about their intentions when they're thinking about kissing you.

But inexplicably, it doesn't seem to deter him.

Maybe because the tremble in my voice as I spoke betrayed the truth that I actually really want him to kiss me right now. Or maybe it's because he isn't lying when he speaks his next sentence...

"Because I want to."

"Oh."

Then his finger is falling away. And for half a second, my stomach sinks in disappointment. But then it's slipping under my chin, with his thumb stroking up to replace it. Gently, he tugs at my bottom lip, and the urge to taste his skin grows too strong to repress.

When my tongue sneaks out to flick lightly against the tip of his finger, his eyes turn midnight black. I swear I even hear him growl, a deep rumbling sound that erupts like thunder in his chest.

"You're gonna be the death of me, Brynn Wolfe."

His gaze falls back to my lips once more as our faces drift closer and closer together. I don't know if it's because he's pulling me toward him, or if I'm moving of my own accord.

All I know is that he's got me in some kind of trance. It's like he has dickmatized me with his stupid, smug smiles and dark stares and cute nicknames, and I have no choice but to fall into whatever the fuck this is that's happening right now.

It could be a trap.

He could just be pretending to kiss me for some kind of cruel and elaborate joke.

But the thought doesn't stop me from leaning into him, from inching my hand up to curl lightly around his arm like I'm trying to hold him in place.

He's there.

He's right fucking there.

I can feel the whisper of his breath against my lips, so close, so goddamn close, and this is it: I'm going to let Leo Sullivan kiss me, even though he's kind of an asshole, and he talks weird, and my brother will literally skin him alive for touching me. But I'm not thinking about any of that. I'm only thinking about him.

And that's when Salem's cry pierces into the room like the sharpest blade, slicing through the haze of the moment.

Holy shit.

Leo was about to kiss me, and I was going to let him.

With flaming cheeks, I bolt upright, narrowly avoiding slamming our heads together in my haste. "I'll, um…I'll settle her."

He stands, shoving his hands into his pockets. "She's my kid, Brynn. I'll—"

"No!" I shout then lower my voice. "No, please, let me. I want to. I need—"

"Yeah, I get it." I guess neither of us is in the mood to let each other finish their sentences right now. "Give me a shout if you need me, yeah?"

I nod, though I have no intention of doing that.

I'll sleep in Salem's crib with her tonight if it means I don't have to face Leo again this evening.

"Will do," I sing at him over my shoulder, my forced smile somewhat manic.

And as I creep into Salem's room, lift her into my arms, and rock her back to sleep, I can't work out if the achy feeling in my heart is shame at having almost kissed my nemesis...or soul-crushing disappointment.