Chapter 10 #2
Nothing makes sense. Stories don’t match. The disconnect between what I saw and heard the last few weeks of high school and the stubborn self-reliance she still shows today is astounding.
No matter what happened eleven years ago, I cannot deny the pull between us.
She’s mine, and I’m hers.
“I didn’t take anything from you. You forced that kiss on me,” she says in the sexiest throaty voice I’ve ever heard.
“You liked it,” I murmur.
“My enjoyment does not negate your—”
“I liked it, too,” I interrupt. Her swollen lips beg for me to taste them again. “I want more and so do you, so—”
She blocks my attempt to kiss her by shoving her hand between our mouths. Her wince cools my ardor.
“Stop, Mr. Ricco. This is neither the time nor the place.”
“Call me Matteo,” I demand.
“No. You’re being rude to Mr. Brunswick.”
“Oh, so now it’s Mr. Brunswick instead of Liam?”
“He’s gay, not blind, and this is an office, not a bar. Let me go.”
I scoff and pull her against my chest.
“Not a chance in hell. Like you said, Mr. Brunswick isn’t blind.”
“Then stop wearing suits.”
Her quip makes no sense, so I hum a noncommittal note as I reach for the first aid kit.
“You don’t get it, do you?” she asks.
“Get what, little rabbit?”
I rifle through the kit until I find the bandage wraps.
“He’s more likely to take you away from me than me away from you,” she says.
I pause, run through the probabilities, and glance at Mr. Brunswick before unraveling the first roll.
“If he were interested in me, he would have made a move a long time ago.”
They both scoff.
“I did,” he says.
When Brook swings surprised eyes at him, I realize they scoffed for different reasons. The folly of my words hits me like a ton of bricks.
It took me over ten years to make a move on Brook.
“He didn’t understand it then either,” Mr. Brunswick says, breaking my train of thought.
“Wait, you propositioned me?” I ask.
“Yes, about a year after you recruited me. At first, I thought you were ignoring my cues because you didn’t want to deal with it, but then I realized… that’s just who you are.”
“Who I am,” I deadpan.
He answers as though I asked a question when I most certainly did not.
“Yes. You’re goal oriented and success driven.”
Brook gives a tiny shake of her head and scoffs, “You mean you didn’t want to spend your life with a perfectionist and workaholic.”
He shrugs.
“I’m a workaholic now too, but I’m also in a stable, happy relationship, so it’s possible.”
Brook gives him a lopsided smirk.
“I’m happy for you, but don’t project your success onto us. We won’t work,” she says.
With her taste lingering on my tongue, I long to argue, but move the bandage roll to her lap and lift her wrist instead.
She huffs and tries to pull away.
“That’s overkill. I don’t need—”
I tsk and prop her hand on my shoulder so her arm is in easy reach.
“Don’t try and stop me, little rabbit. I’m goal oriented and success driven, remember?”
She sighs and rolls her eyes.
“You are the most overbearing asshole I’ve ever met,” she mumbles.
“And you’re the most infuriatingly stubborn woman I’ve ever met,” I murmur.
Mr. Brunswick chuckles as he unrolls the second bandage.
“Well, there goes my peaceful future.”
“Hey, that’s not—”
“The office was getting boring anyway,” Liam interrupts her argument. “Don’t hold back on my account. I have two legs and know how to leave a room.”
“So why didn’t you?” Brook asks.
“First aid always takes priority, and I don’t abandon injured friends,” he says.
Brook’s breath catches in her throat as he shamelessly calls her his friend.
The thought of these two wickedly smart and efficient individuals teaming up to make my life a living hell actually sounds like heaven on earth.
Which makes no sense. My solitude over the last eleven years helped drive my success.
“Well, then, thanks and sorry,” she says.
Moisture glimmers in her eyes but she doesn’t cry. The loneliness shining in her gaze echoes in my soul. I squeeze her hip before wrapping the bandage around her bicep. She hisses and grabs my lapel with her opposite arm.
“I’m sorry, too. To both of you. Hold tight, little rabbit. I need to add enough pressure to prevent swelling,” I say.
She breathes through her nose and nods.
I wrap her upper arm and fasten the end before guiding her wrist to my lap and taking the second bandage from Liam.
She grimaces but watches my hands as I wrap her forearm. When I add ice packs over top and loosely add another bandage to keep them in place, she sighs and twists her fist, pulling my suit tight across my back and shoulders.
“Ten minutes, then we’ll remove the ice,” I say.
She releases my lapel, nods, and shifts as though to stand. I hold her in my lap with an arm wrapped around her back and a hand splayed over her thigh. Her mutinous glare travels straight to my balls.
“You’ll stay here the full ten minutes,” I say.
Despite the fury growing in her eyes, her trembling worsens, and I decide a truce is necessary to keep the progress of the last few minutes.
My little rabbit is stretched to her limits after her first full day of work.
I recall how her lashes dipped with fatigue during this evening’s meeting.
Countless memories bombarded my mind when she’d pulled out a notebook and began scribbling. She did the same thing in high school.
“Be still or I’ll give you a reason to writhe around on my lap,” I murmur into her hair.
Her jaw muscles flex as she grits her teeth.
Mr. Brunswick lifts his tablet to show the countdown on his screen.
“Fine, but not a second longer, and keep your hands to yourself or I’ll break them,” she growls.
I smile and pull her tighter against my chest as I settle deeper into the couch. Satisfaction roars through me.
I won a battle against the merciless Ms. Simons.
She may have many more wins under her belt, but I have her in my lap with her lips swollen from my kiss and her head resting against my shoulder.
Nothing will stop me from enjoying every second, and when the alarm rings, I’ll find another reason to keep her close.
She’ll be in my bed soon.
I’ll figure out what happened during our senior year in high school and fix the disconnect between us, because I don’t want to spend another day without her.
Brook Simons is mine.
And I’m hers.