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I dig my fingers into my biceps. “Good for you.”
The bottle cap hits my counter with a ping.
She takes a long sip, throat working, and water dripping down her chin onto her chest. “Oops.”
“Fuck.” My voice is strangled. “Naomi, I don’t know what’s eating at you, but?—”
She slams the water bottle down. “I’m not?—”
“You are.” I close the distance between us, cupping her face. “And that’s okay. But I won’t be your distraction. Not in that way, not tonight.”
“Brandon.”
“Bed.” I step back before I do something stupid. “Now. To sleep.”
She blinks. “But?—”
“Not up for debate.” I point toward my bedroom. “March.”
To my astonishment, she does, the sultry confidence exchanged with the grace of a five-year-old-pouting toddler.
I have to grab a shirt of mine to cover the thing that’s driving me fucking insane. It’ll be big on her, but it’s better than nothing. Better than that fucking lingerie taunting me all night.
I follow her into my bedroom, tossing her a fresh shirt. “Here.”
“I’m not naked.” She catches it against her chest.
“Yeah, and that’s the problem.” Quite literally, in both cases. I turn, giving her privacy. “Put the damn shirt on.”
Fabric rustles behind me. The mattress creaks. “Done being a gentleman?”
I face her. “Done being a brat?”
My shirt drowns her, hitting mid-thigh, and somehow, that’s sexier than the lingerie.
“Never.” She sprawls across my bed like she owns it, hair fanned out on my pillow.
I grab spare blankets from my closet. “I’ll take the couch.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She pats the space beside her. “We’re both adults.”
“That’s debatable after your little show.” I drop the blankets on my chair.
The thought of having her that close, that vulnerable… it’s too much. Too tempting. But the alternative is leaving her alone. And that feels even worse.
“What’s really going on?” I ask.
Her smile falters. “Nothing.”
“You know what I think?” I sit on the edge of the bed. “I think you’re scared.”
“Of what?”
“This.” I gesture between us. “Whatever’s happening here.”
“Nothing’s happening here.” She won’t meet my eyes. “You said it yourself.”
“So, you got drunk and then suddenly want to have sex?”