Breaking Bro Code (The Line Up #4) - Misti Murphy Page 0,60

up.

“Now, you’re going to help me, aren’t you? You’re not going to leave me to work this out for myself, right?” he asks as I stand up on my wheels.

“Of course.”

“All right.” He draws in a breath before he pushes himself up.

I catch him around the waist as he wobbles.

“This is a little terrifying,” he says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders while he adjusts to his new center of gravity.

“You’ll be fine.” Since I couldn’t talk him out of it, I figure we might as well commit. Besides, it’s sweet that he wants to show me he’s willing to make an effort. A point that didn’t go unnoticed in the whole fact that he chased me across the country.

“Okay.” He flexes his fingers on my bicep and loosens his grip. “I think I’m good.”

“Do you want to try moving?”

“That’s the next step, isn’t it?” He grimaces.

I chuckle. “Yeah.”

I help him with his posture and show him how to move his feet like a duck. I hold his hand as we skate up and down the boardwalk in front of the rental shop. And then I show him how to glide and teach him how to stop.

We’re both grinning when he’s finally ready to tackle blading on his own.

***

“That actually wasn’t terrible,” he tells me almost two hours later as we skirt the pool on our way to the pool house that was our own little oasis last night and this morning. He rubs at his wrist with a pained expression. “Although I can feel the bruises coming out already.”

“You did great. You only fell twice. That’s pretty good for a beginner.” The sun and exercise has both of us a little sweaty. I catch a whiff of his musky aroma. I’ve always had a thing for that clean and salty smell, but combined with his natural odor it’s an aphrodisiac. I have an itch I need scratching bad. “Plus, it was kind of sexy. You strapping on rollerblades just to impress me.”

“Sexy?” He catches me around the waist and brings us both to a stop beside the grotto. His lips lift wickedly as he stares at me with those hot as sin eyes. “Really?”

“Uh-huh.” I caress his inked bicep. The black roses and their dark thorns. Beauty and pain. That’s what he told me once when I admired them. There’s so much latent power in those muscles. Recalling the way they flexed as he held me against the wall last night has me wishing for a repeat.

“I like the sound of that.” He tugs me closer with that arm cinched around my middle. Presses his lips against mine in a slow drugging kiss that leaves me breathless.

“Thank you for today.” I try to catch my breath and smile and not swoon all at the same time. “It’s been the best first date I could imagine.”

“I’m glad,” he says. “But I’m hoping it’s not over yet.”

“Really?” What more could he possibly cram into an already perfect day? “Won’t you have to go to the bar soon?”

“It’s Sunday. The staff they have on is enough, though I’ll probably go over applications this evening. And your friend will be here at some point.”

“Lewis. He is living here with us.”

“I figure you’ve talked about me.” He takes a seat on one of the daybeds lined up next to the pool and draws me onto his lap.

I blush. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He strokes his thumb over my wrist and presses his lips to the inside. “I just figure it could be awkward.”

“I’ll talk to him.” I shiver. His stubble prickles the delicate skin there.

“It’s fine, Lil. Let them think whatever they want to think about me.” He gropes my ass with his other hand. “The only person whose opinion matters to me is you.”

“I was upset,” I concede. “I may or may not have called you a dill pickle. It might or might not have stuck these past few weeks.”

“Dill pickle, huh?” His eyes fill with amusement. “I haven’t heard that one before.”

“You get a lot of names, huh?”

“Jerk mostly,” he admits, briefly focusing on something behind me. “It’s well-earned.”

“I disagree.” I catch his face between both hands. “You’ve never been a jerk to me.”

“Except for the night that earned me the title of dill pickle,” he amends.

“Okay.” I kiss him. “You’re a jerk. Are you happy now?”

“More than I thought was possible,” he says in a low tone, as though thinking out loud and it’s only recently occurred to him—like within the last