Page 167 of Collide

He shrugs. “We’re good. You’re withhim, I’ll get over it.”

The thought of him getting over the idea of us doesn’t quite sit well. It’s selfish and fucked up of me. Am I so desperate to feel wanted that I’m greedy for it?

I sigh heavily. “I wish it wasn’t so…” I can’t find the right words.

Hard, confusing, frustrating? All of the above.

“Your fault for being so damn adorable.” He’s already assembling another sandwich, layering bread, butter, and three kinds of cheese like it’s muscle memory.

“I’m a woman, not a bunny.” I scoff.Adorable.

He chuckles, low and breathy, his eyes searing into me. I look away. Their pull is undeniable, and with me being pent up from Alex’s earlier teasing, I’m not sure I can trust myself.

I shouldn’t.

The sizzle of the sandwich he places in the pan echoes between us.

“You always look this intense making grilled cheese?” I tease, looking at him, now with his back turned. That back,fuck.

I’m trying to sound normal, trying not to drool.

Broderick shoots me a crooked smile over his shoulder. “Only when it’s for royalty.”

I snort, shoving his arm when he comes closer. He barely budges. Like trying to push a damn brick wall. But the small touch sends a jolt up my spine. He feelsnice.

His forearms are corded with veins as he works the pan over the heat.

Desire tugging at something deep inside me.

He sets the sandwich down in front of me, slicing it neatly in half. “Here you go, your majesty.”

I’m about to reach for it when he steps closer, towering over me in that way he always does, tall enough to make me tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

I can feel the heat radiating from his skin. He’s close enough to touch.

I bite my lip.

He grins, slow and deliberate.

“You know,” he says, voice low and rough with amusement, “you’re gonna give me a crick in my neck if you keep making me look down at you like this.”

Before I can fire back some smartass comment, his hands are on my waist. In one easy motion, he lifts me and sets me down on the counter.

I squeal, laughing, palms bracing against the marble for balance. “Brody!”

He steps between my knees, smirking up at me now, satisfaction written all over his face. We’re not quite at eye level, but close enough.

I lick my lips, savoring the warmth of his hands still lingering on my skin.

“Much better.” He rests his hands on either side of me, close enough that his heat seeps through the thin fabric of my dress. “Now I won’t need a chiropractor tomorrow.”

I roll my eyes, but my heart is racing so hard it feels like it might knock me clean off the counter.

I’m very aware of how close we are, how easy it would be to lean in, close the inches between us, taste the smile on his mouth. And make good on that almost kiss.

The sandwich sits forgotten between us, the air crackling, the space shrinking. Then he takes a step back, tutting. He’s fighting the urge, sticking to the line I drew in the sand.

I try to recover my equilibrium and grab one half of the sandwich and take a bite, still trying to catch my breath from his touch, from the space that hummed between us. The cheese stretches, gooey and hot, and I have to tear it away awkwardly with my fingers.