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“How often do you work out? I bet it’s often because nobody can have such a sinful body for free.” She shook her head as she cupped my pecs and gasped before removing her hands and cupping her breasts. “You could wear my bra.”
“I doubt it,” I grunted, and she shook her head, bringing her warm hands back to my pecs, weighing them as if they were some foreign objects that she had never seen before.
“No, I swear. We could be the same cup size!” she giggled excitedly as she left one hand on my chest and brought the other to her boob, bouncing them at the same time.
I had always taken pride in being fit and having a big chest; however, being told that we were the same cup size did a number on my ego.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” she whispered, finally letting go of my chest.
“I think you’ve already gone past the boundary of personal.”
“Okay, when you’re having sex with a woman, would you let her suck your tits?” she stared at me, wide-eyed, as if she was really curious about the answer.
“You’re the one with the tits, Brooke,” I told her, and she shook her head.
“It’s a given that I would let my partner suck my boobs.” I sucked in a breath when she cupped her breasts and pushed them together. “But I want to know from a man—would you let your partner do the same?”
She pouted her lips, and I sighed, looking away. I should go back to my apartment.
“If I was your partner, I would beg you to let me. No wonder why you always look so good in your shirts. I’m yet to see you in a dress shirt; I bet you drive the girls insane. Like James Bond, you know him?”
“Personally?”
“Yeah,” she nodded, seeming convinced that James Bond was a real person and not a fictional character. Just how drunk was she? “Double O Seven.”
She gestured with her fingers, and it took all that was in me not to burst out laughing. Brooke had to leave alcohol alone after this.
“Did you have a number? When you were in the Navy—did they refer to you as a number?” she asked as she danced to a tune in her head, and I smiled, crossing my arms over my chest.
“I had a nickname,” I told her, and her light-brown eyes brightened with excitement.
“Come on, don’t make me drag it out of you!”
“Reaper,” I said. Her mouth dropped into a small o.
“That is such a cool nickname!” Not with the reputation attached to it. It was a horrible name. “I bet you were a bad ass!” She punched the air, making some weird fighting sounds. “You would get along with my brother!”
“You have a brother?”
“Hmm. A Marine, he is so cool.” She seemed very fond of her brother.
“Is he the one that taught you the Morse code?” I asked her, and she nodded excitedly.
“Yeah, even though it’s not so secret,” she rolled her eyes. “I know the Navajo language,” she whispered, and I nodded, impressed. “Yá’át’ééh.”
“Níli´i´h dóó níyéél. T’áá hwiihgo ádíílká.” She widened her eyes and sighed frustratedly.
“I only know how to say ‘hello.’” I let out a small laugh, and she clicked her tongue. “What did you say?”
“Go to bed, Brooke.” She released a long breath and looked at her items on the floor. “Did you have a good night out?”
What was I still doing out here?
“It was good, until I was rejected by my crush of three years because he has a crush on my best friend, and I had to sit there and tell him everything he had to know about going after her. Stupid me even called myself his wing-woman; I must be the world’s biggest idiot.”
“Uhm.”
“Not only that, I even put make up on and straightened my hair for him. Asher, I really thought he was going to ask me out because he held my hand like this.” She grabbed my hand and rubbed her thumb over my knuckles. “And then he stared into my eyes.”
