Eyes turned. He shrugged them away. But beneath his calm façade, he was burning.
Her hands inched higher.
What the hell was she doing? She’d always been flirty when they were married, but the woman he knew now was cautious. And yet her hand kept moving up, which just made him all the more aroused.
Because in all his calculations he’d never thought she might actually seduce him. Especially since she’d rejected every kiss. He tried to stay still and took a long drink of water.
“I really don’t remember this version of Thanksgiving, Nik,” he said out of the corner of his mouth, as Cole and Nadine started bickering at the other end of the table.
“Well.” She scooted her chair closer then slid her hand beneath his napkin, grabbing him fully, giving enough of a squeeze that he hissed out a curse. “You’ve been trying so hard to give a new version, I thought I’d help.”
“God, I love helpful people.”
“I thought so.”
“Volunteering is really…”
She moved her hand.
“…so…selfless.”
“Well, I was short some hours this week.”
“I’d be more than happy to sign off on—” He reached for his wine to keep himself from kissing her, from flipping her over the table next to the turkey and asking her to spread her legs. Yeah, that would go over well.
“Sign off on…?”
“I’m sorry, what were we talking about?” He kept his voice low as he rolled his hips against her hand. “So close.”
“Yeah, it’s nice sitting this close,” she said in a completely innocent voice. Another gentle squeeze.
“I love your hands,” he blurted. “I think I’m obsessed with them.”
“What was that, dear?” Nadine called across the table.
Brant froze.
Nikki tensed.
“Ham!” he said quickly—and a little too loudly. “I’m obsessed with hams.”
Nadine narrowed her eyes. “How…interesting.”
He was saved from embarrassment by the arrival of the next course, and attention was once again diverted away from them. And once dessert was served, he began counting down the minutes until he could excuse them and finish what they’d started.
Bentley stood. “A toast.”
Brant glared. Bentley grinned at him over his glass and took a long swig, then yawned. “To a very happy early Thanksgiving.”
“Hear, hear!” Brant tossed his glass back, stood, offered his hand, and mentally calculated how long it would take to get Nikki back to his room. At least six minutes. Give or take one minute if they had to wait for the elevator. Then again, he could strip her naked once they were safely inside the elevator.
Everyone stood.
“You forgot part of the date,” Nikki whispered in his ear.
He turned to her, frowning. “I did?”
“Walk me home and find out.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
What she wouldn’t give to be able to read minds. To be able to figure out what Brant was thinking right that moment. He’d been silent all the way to her apartment, and the silence felt somehow darker, tenser, the minute he stepped foot inside her living room and closed the door quietly behind him.
“Home sweet home.” She spread her arms wide. “Also, you should probably make a noise, Brant. I can’t see you, so when you don’t speak I can only assume you’ve either left to dig through all of my things or you’re staring, and both are creepy.”
Brant was still quiet.
She reached out then jerked back. He was a muscled blur standing right in front of her; the darkness of his suit blended with the darkened room.
“Brant?”
“This,” he said, his voice hoarse, angry-sounding, “is where you live?”
Shame hit her so violently that she stumbled backward a bit as tears stung her eyes. Stupid! She hadn’t even thought to clean up. She knew there were at least four dishes piled up inside the sink from earlier that week, and she knew firsthand from Cole that nothing in her apartment matched.
It was tidy. Probably smaller than Brant’s closet, and most likely reminded him of a first-grader’s classroom more than a grown woman’s apartment. The red blur of throw pillows caught her attention right next to the bright purple throw blanket that she knew was placed between the two of them.
What was she supposed to say? Or do?
“Don’t give me that look,” he whispered. “Just answer the question. This—this place is where you’ve been living for four fucking years?”
She swallowed the giant watermelon lump in her throat and gave him a jerky nod. Why was he so angry? She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. Things had been going so well! What happened? Where did they go wrong?