Page 20 of Brown Sugar
A black crew neck shirt that’s molded onto his huge, muscular torso and black pants that draw attention to how thick and powerful his thighs are.
He’s towering over me, his eyes dark and impossible to read.
He’s not my type—nor will he ever be, I quickly remind myself—but I’d be lying to say he doesn’t look good today.
A sudden flush creeps over me as I step aside to allow him in and mumble, “Oh. Right. Gimme a minute.”
“The daily schedule you were sent said leave the penthouse at seven a.m. That means being ready to go at seven a.m. Not a minute after,” he points out.
I roll my eyes as I start for the hallway. “Sorry, Goliath. Some of us aren’t as perfect as you. Some of us run a little late sometimes. Especially when…”
I trail off, catching myself.
Tyson presses me anyway, dogging a couple of my footsteps. “Especially when what?”
“It’s nothing.”
“You say that yet your inflection says differently. So does your body language.”
“An expert, are you?”
“As a matter of fact,” he says, “I am. Part of security is being able to assess threats. Part of being able to assess threats is learning human behavior and body language. People’s tells. Signs they give.”
“And what am I telling you right now?” I stop where I am, spinning around to face him with my arms out at my sides.
His gaze dips, his jaw pulling tighter. “Your robe…”
Shoot!
I glance down and spy that my robe’s come half undone, revealing I’ve got nothing on underneath except my panties. Luckily, I catch the slipping fabric before a true wardrobe malfunction and a titty pops out. Clutching both ends of my robe together with a tight hand, I do my best to play it off.
“Um… thanks,” I murmur. “But that’s not what I meant.”
“Your body language tells me you’re upset by something. Likely something that just happened given by how preoccupied you seem.”
Damn. On point.
“I received a dick pic,” I sigh. “From my ex.”
If Tyson feels some type of way about it, he doesn’t show it—exceptfor the subtle narrowing of his eyes. Otherwise, his face is steel.
Impenetrable and unaffected.
“I see,” he says. “And why would he do that?”
“Because he’s an ass and wanted me to know he’s fucking the new girl. He claimed it was an accident.”
“This ex, has he ever given you trouble in the past?”
I frown. “What kind of trouble?”
“Any kind of trouble. Has he ever exhibited concerning behavior? Ever been aggressive with you? Ever put his hands?—”
“Shawn never hit me,” I interrupt right away. “Never. I wouldn’t stay with a guy like that. But thanks for the vote of confidence. I’m the first one to call Shawn a dick, but if you’resuspicious of him, don’t be. This was about him rubbing our breakup in my face. Nothing more.”
Tyson doesn’t seem so convinced.
He merely raises a thick brow in silent judgment, then gestures toward the hallway.