The Brute Read Online Free Page B

I’d been eating lately, I needed to stay and shape, and besides, yoga helps me think.
    When James came back he was in a great mood. He said his business meeting had gone well. Better than he expected.
    “That’s great,” I said. “Care to elaborate now? Or is it still a super secret?” I didn’t want to be pushy, but I was curious. He’d been so cagey up until now.
    “Now it’s all gone through, I guess I can let you know. I’ve bought a cafe.”
    A cafe! Of course, no wonder he could cook so well. He was a chef now. Made perfect sense. And that meant he was going to be in Charlotte. I could see him every day.
    I don’t really know how we got from his announcement that he was going to take over management of a little cafe to us jumping around the living room holding hands like excited teenagers at a rock concert, but there we were.
    I was giddy again. Full of excitement for him. Hell, I was excited for me, and I didn’t even know why.
    Then he stopped and got a really serious look on his face. I stopped jumping too and we looked at each other. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I know people say that, when someone they like looks at them, that moment before you just know they want to kiss you, and you want to kiss them back, and the world stops. Like this moment is something that needs to happen in slow motion or something. Like everything else that is happening in your life is suddenly meaningless and you are locked on pause, just standing there looking at each other. Without breathing.
    Still in slow motion, he leaned down to me. His face and lips getting closer and closer. I could feel his breath warm my cheek (which was good - at least one of us was breathing) and then his lips brushed mine. They were soft and his kiss was gentle. Almost like he was holding back. But I didn’t want to hold back. Every inch of me was bursting with desire to have him crush his lips on mine and kiss me so hard that I’d forget everything.
    And then my phone beeped.

The Brute was standing on his boat, his arms on his hips, and his legs apart. For balance I suppose, or an effort to look more impressive than he was. Oh, and don’t be impressed that he actually has a boat. It’s not one of those huge celebrity/millionaire type boats that can hold hundreds of people and are all white and sleek and new. This one wasn’t much bigger than my bedroom, with a smallish deck on top and a tiny bed and kitchen facilities below.
    He was wearing his skippers cap. Must have thought he looked like a real captain or something. I just thought he looked like a douche now.
    Remember how I used to think he was good looking. Well, technically, he still was, but I didn’t feel like that anymore. You know after you know someone for a while, and suddenly they look better or worse, like your opinion of them has suddenly altered their attractiveness. Yep. Classic me.
    I sat at the back not saying anything as he drove out to sea. Or is that sailed? I’m never sure of the correct terminology on a boat, like which one is port or starboard, or what a spinnaker is (or even if I know how to spell it correctly). All I knew was he liked to be far enough out that no one could see what we were doing (he preferred screwing me out on deck), but still close enough that he could see the city lights in the distance twinkling off the water as it gently swayed us.
    “Got a surprise for you tonight. You are going to love it.”
    “ Uhuh,” I said, completely disinterested.
    “Don’t be like that Angel. Come on. I know I’ve been a prick lately, but it’s only because I love you.”
    He says he loves me every time he wants me to do something I hate.
    “ Here.” He throws over a small box. My stomach goes cold. In fact my whole body does, even though it’s a warm night. The box is the size of a ring box. I don’t want to open it. “Go on,” he says. “See what I’ve bought you. You’re gonna want to thank me after this. And I’m gonna let you. You can