Sweet Obsession(42)

As I slide my hands to her hips, she keeps her head down, staring at my chest, my neck, almost bashfully trying to avoid my eyes while her hands tease the bottom of my shirt.

I like her like this, gentled, and what seems to be a bit unconventional for her. I like imagining that Brooke’s only been this way with me, and that maybe I make her feel a bit undone and out of sorts, unsure of what’s possibly happening between us.

I bend to kiss her forehead. “Shall we find that spot then? I want your taste in my throat.”

She seems to weave a bit on her feet, then mumbles a hoarse, “yes,” taking my hand and leading me down the footpath.

I slowly slide my fingers between hers as we pass a few shops, and my Denali. Interesting. “Have something in mind?” I ask.

She seems on a mission to get me somewhere specific. Determination leading her, along with desire.

Her shoulder jerks the slightest bit. “Maybe.”

She smiles at me. The moonlight slides across her face, a shadow pooling in her dimple.

“I was here a few months ago, down in this part of the city with Dylan and everyone. Juls and her kids were there. Anyway, we took them to this place down the street a bit and I’d like to go there with you.”

“Yeah?”

I can’t hide the delighted lift in my voice, the overwhelming warmth that seems to spread up my spine.

This seems pretty personal for her. I want personal with Brooke. Every tiny detail of her life, bottled up and given to me.

“It’s not anything special.”

And there goes that glorious feeling. I run a quick hand through my hair.

Right, mate. Just relax on her a bit.

She clears her throat. “It’s funny. When I was here before and used this thing I’m about to take you to, my mind was nowhere near the gutter. I mean, gross. There were kids around. That’s pushing it even for me. But now?” She shakes her head, making a soft tsk sound as we cross the street. “Full-on filth. I’m almost a little nervous about this.”

I straighten with intrigue, pulling her closer so I can slide my hand around her waist, so she can tuck against my side and I can feel the quick flutter of her heart against my ribs.

I press my lips to her hair. She smells like honey and vanilla.

“Sweet Brooke. I like you nervous. You get very honest with me.”

Her head tilts up, brows pinched together. “What? When have I ever been nervous with you?”

She thinks I miss it, the way she peels back a layer of that impetuous exterior of hers to take a breath and slow down. The wide eyed look she seems to give herself, not me, confused and a bit cautious when I reach for her hand or get caught simply gazing at her. It’s fleeting, yes. These aren’t obvious moments with Brooke and she recovers from them quickly, but I see them.

My fingers splay along her hip. “The alley I kissed you in. Your shop practically every time I walk in there, more so the first time though. You seemed a bit flushed, yeah?” I smile at her. “I was too. I felt that kiss the entire day.”

Her lips part, her eyes drop to my mouth. “Yeah,” she says on a rushed exhale.

Not a question. She isn’t asking me if I’m telling the truth, which I sure as fuck am. I’m honestly not sure if I’ve stopped feeling that kiss, or if I will.

She’s agreeing with me. Another layer is exposed, and I want to keep her like this, open and unconcerned with revealing too much, too soon, too fast. I want her letting go and letting me have her secrets, being perfectly unashamed and trusting that I’ll not only like every honest moment she gives me, I’ll protect them for her.

But before I can ask her to elaborate on that single perfect word, Brooke presses her hand against my chest, halting our progression.

“This is it.”

I look up at the building we’ve stopped in front of. The large sign set off in neon colors and strobe lights. The hordes of children scurrying in and out of the door with tickets and carnival prizes.

This is it? This is what she has in mind? I never would’ve guessed anything close to this.

I smile at Brooke, my hand circling around her back. “Are we playing skee-ball, gorgeous? I must warn you, I’m a bit competitive. I’ve never believed in letting a lady win simply because she’s a lady. Nothing honest in that.”

She stands on her toes, getting as close to my face as she can, her small hand sliding over my elbow to my bicep. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Mason,” she murmurs, her breath hot and hungry against my jaw.

I smirk, tilting my head down. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“I’m not a lady. Not even close. And I’m about to show you why.” She grabs my hand and eagerly tugs me inside the arcade.