6. Brent
6
Brent
I hastily swallow the sip of coffee I’ve just taken. Damn, it is hot watching Joey come out of the shower with her hair wet and the damp cloth of her top clinging to her breasts. I have an immediate physical reaction, forcing me to take a seat at the table to hide the evidence.
All morning, I’ve thought of nothing but her. Observing her out of our normal element, when we’re surrounded by my family, has put her in a whole new light for me.
When I returned to the hotel to find her sleeping, I wanted nothing more than to climb in with her, even if it was just to hold her. Fuck yeah, I wanted to do a lot more than that, but I felt something in that moment, something indefinable that’s always been between us.
I had planned on talking to her before driving her home, guided by Niko’s advice. Maybe satisfying her request—and both of our needs—before she left. But I hesitate to bring up the topic of her virginity when she’s as wary as a doe, ready to flee at one wrong move from me.
I want to ask her how it’s possible she’s never slept with a man and why. Of course, she could have done other things, just not the final act. That thought makes me want to grab and kiss her, just to find out how much experience she’s gained since I last tasted her mouth.
If only I’d had the chance to kiss her this morning.
It doesn’t matter now. The moment has passed. Since she hasn’t brought up the topic—whether it’s because she doesn’t remember doing so or she’s pretending she never asked me—I don’t either.
“Joey.” I wait until she meets my gaze, trepidation clear on her face, making me think she definitely remembers. And regrets it. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed.
For now, I motion to the tray on the table. “Coffee, water, and Excedrin if you still need some. And if you’re up to eating, I also ordered toast and juice.”
I smile when she shudders and shakes her head.
“Just coffee, thanks.” She makes her way over to the table, the towel draped around her shoulders, the ends hanging over her chest. She reaches first for the water and a small bottle of Excedrin and remains standing as she swallows a couple of pills. I don’t like that she’s back to her usual demeanor around me, keeping her face averted from me as she pours a cup of coffee.
“DeShawn dropped off your stuff,” I say into the silence.
She turns to me. “Oh, my phone. Did he—”
“It’s all there.” I gesture to the sofa.
Joey puts her cup down to retrieve her belongings. She keeps her back to me as she removes the towel and replaces it with her jacket. Except for when she was drunk last night, she’s always covered her chest with something—her hair, the towel, the jacket—like a security blanket. I can’t help but wonder why when plastic surgeons make a fortune giving women magnificent breasts like hers.
She breathes a sigh of relief when she checks the contents of her purse. “I can’t believe how reckless I was. Please tell DeShawn thank you for me.” She winds her damp hair into a long rope, then twists it in circles against the back of her head. It’s a mystery how it stays up when she lets go.
“I’ll drive you back when you’re ready,” I tell her when puts on her sandals. “Finish your coffee first.”
“Oh no, that’s okay,” she says, talking over me. “I can take the train.”
“It’s pouring out, and I did promise this morning.”
“No, really. The traffic at the tunnels is going to be a nightmare with this rain. The train will be faster. It’s fine.” The stubborn set to her jaw tells me she won’t give in. I’ve never witnessed this quality in her before. I like it.
She puts down her cup, gathers her things, and heads for the door. “Thanks for taking care of me—of things—last night. Bye,” she throws over her shoulder, walking out before I can respond.
I frown as the door shuts behind her, trying to convince myself I’ve been saved from a messy situation. So why does it feel instead like a missed opportunity?