Take a Hint, Dani Brown (The Brown Sisters, #2)

by Talia Hibbert

he’d just forced an elevator open with his bare hands. Before she could comment on that strange, if impressive, behavior, he reached into the lift, dragged her out by the front of her dress, and plastered her against his massive chest. An almost silent “Alhamdulillah” rushed out of him on a sigh.

“Right,” Zaf said, his eyes burning something awful. He looked mutinous, but evidently not with her, because he stepped forward and slid her rucksack gently off her shoulders. “I’ll take this,” he murmured. “Oh, no, it’s okay, I—” “Danika,” he said, iron in his tone. “I. Will take. This.” “I knew you were bossy, but I had no idea you were this bossy.” “Yeah, well,” he muttered, “now you know.

“What are you doing, Danika?” “Being beautiful for my people.” He let out a burst of laughter. “I wish I could carry you around all the time. You do wonders for my mood.”

Dani smiled at the camera like a vixen, and Zaf stared dreamily down at her like she was the source of all sunshine. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Who the hell looked at their friends like that? If she saw this video— If she saw this video, she’d probably think he was obsessed with her, or in love with her,

And no one else, Dani might as well admit, made the constant thoughts and ideas whirring in her mind stutter, momentarily, to a stop. Being as effortlessly sexy as Zafir Ansari should really be illegal, or at least regulated.

Before she could formulate a response to that, he changed the subject, a little furrow forming between his eyebrows. “Why aren’t you wearing a coat?” Oh, not this again. “It was sunny this morning,” Dani said for the second time in ten minutes, sounding defensive even to her own ears. Zaf shook his head, unzipping his jacket and shifting his sandwich from hand to hand as he slid out of the sleeves. “You need someone to keep an eye on you.”

I love him

He wrapped his jacket around her shoulders, then squeezed her upper arm.

Zaf’s cheeks flushed darker. “I was never listening to porn. I listen to romance novels.” Erm . . . what? “I beg your pardon,” she sputtered after a moment. “Did you just say you listen to romance novels?” He grunted. “Well. I listen in the car, mostly. Read at home.”

“Fond of happily ever afters, are you?” she asked brightly. Zaf rubbed a hand over his beard, looking oddly pensive all of a sudden. “I’ve seen the alternative. That’s not the story I want for the rest of my life.” The words caught Dani unawares, heavy as stone, solemn as still water. A strange ache started beneath her rib cage.

He angled his head, increased the pressure, and parted her stunned lips easily, his tongue a dart that sampled her in little, teasing sips. The way he touched her, the way his big body curved around her, all that said possession. But the way he kissed her, slow and gentle, tiny gifts of pleasure rippling the surface of her still lake—the way he kissed her said care. And it worked. Dear fucking Lord, did it work. Dani was helpless and hopeless and mindless in seconds,

“I meant I need you to leave.” “Oh.” She tried not to pout. “Fair enough.” “Sorry, by the way. About, er . . .” “Stabbing me in the stomach with your massive cock? That’s okay.” Zaf coughed, spluttered, managed to choke on fresh air, then bent double as he wheezed.

“Oh, never mind,” he muttered, throwing up his hands and looking as if he generally despaired of her. “You try to be a gentleman—” “Attempting to be gentlemanly after fucking my mouth was never going to work.” “I did not fuck your mouth,” he said, apparently quite outraged. “I just—actually, you know what? This conversation is not helping my dick. Go away. My lunch break ends in”—he checked his watch and swore—“five minutes. Seriously, disappear.”

Lol

Unless they were sweet like Zaf. If they were sweet like Zaf, they’d probably talk her into bed with gentle, teasing comments. And if they were heavy like Zaf, they’d pin her down in a big soft hug, and she wouldn’t even be able to sneak off once they fell asleep, and then she’d have to rest . . .

“Pretty, am I?” “Don’t start. You know you’re a knockout.” He paused, clearly considering. “Unless you don’t, and you’d like me to tell you. As a friend.” “No, no,” she said quickly—because he would tell her if she asked. He would tell her in that quiet, rumbling voice, calm and steady and unembarrassed, just to make her feel good about herself.

Dani reached him with a laughing smile and dancing eyes. “Hello, handsome.” He short-circuited, just a little bit. Then she rose up on her toes, pressed her hands against his chest, and kissed his cheek. Holy fuck, she smelled like honey. He wanted to bite her.

You like tofu?” Was unnecessary interest in someone’s food preferences a friend thing, or a sneaky crush thing? The lines were already blurring like smudged paint. Zaf was mentally compiling a list of curries he knew how to cook that might work with tofu—not that he’d ever cook for Danika.

Fuck off hes adorable

DANIKA: I am strongly considering blocking your number. ZAF: But if you did, who would be your five-minute entertainment tonight? DANIKA: There’s a sex joke in there somewhere but I’ve been staring at this book for three hours now, so my brain is too blurry to find it ZAF: If you’ve been working for three hours that means you owe me six phone calls already. So close the book and ring me now.

He’d thought she’d forgotten him because she was busy with work, and instead of throwing a righteous fit, he’d . . . He’d brought lunch to her.

“So if this was real, and your girlfriend missed lunch . . .” Zaf looked up, his eyes slightly narrowed as he leaned in close and lowered his voice. “You didn’t miss lunch, Dani. You fell asleep because you work too hard, and if you were really mine, I’d be less worried about lunch dates and more worried about ways to trick you into slowing down.” His thumb swept over her neck again, a slow, soothing stroke that tugged at something sweet and lazy in her.

Except . . . Zaf clearly didn’t like being the center of attention. And when he was nervous, he became particularly, adorably intimidating, only no one else seemed to notice the adorable part. And, for fuck’s sake, he had anxiety. So, no, Dani wasn’t going to let him do this alone.

Then he produced one of his small, cautious smiles, and Dani was forced to admit that she wasn’t a sensible woman after all, because she was definitely swooning. On the inside, anyway. Looking at Zaf was like walking out of an air-conditioned room into a wall of midsummer heat: lust slammed into her, surrounded her, and she proceeded to gently suffocate.

“It’s okay. I’m twenty minutes early.” Her eyebrows flew up as his words sank in. Dani finally looked at the clock hanging on her kitchen wall and realized he was right. “Oh. You . . . erm . . . so . . . ?” “I had a feeling,” he said wryly, “that you might need a nudge.”

His smile was slight, lopsided, and . . . fond. That was the word. Fond. “I know you have a lot on your mind, and you don’t do well with time when you’re busy, so I thought coming early might help. That’s all.”

He's Perfect

Zaf took up a lot of space and spread a lot of warmth and did a lot of good, and someone like that should not be treated as an afterthought. It was the principle of the matter. It was bad for the balance of the universe. So maybe, next time she was supposed to meet him, she’d set an alarm to make sure she wasn’t distracted or forgetful.

He stared. “Dani . . . you don’t bore me when you talk about work.”

“You don’t,” he insisted. “I mean, I wouldn’t read the books you read, and I don’t always understand the words you use, but I like your voice, and it’s cool when you get excited about nerd stuff.” She blinked a few times, as if she’d just walked into a cloud of dust, then looked away. “Oh. Uh. Hmm. I . . . see. Right. Hmm.” If Zaf didn’t know any better, he might think she was blushing.

“Is this panel thing open to the public?” “Yes, indeed,” she murmured. “Want me to come?” “No,” she said instantly. But then, just as quickly, she looked up at him and blurted, “Would you? Why would you? You wouldn’t. Would you?” Well. That was interesting. “It’s like cheering someone on at a match, right? I’ve got to come.”

Her smile widened, so bright and beautiful, he felt like he was stepping into sunlight after months in the dark. And Zaf could say that with certainty, because he knew exactly what it felt like.

“You know what, Danika Brown?” he said. She snuggled deeper under his arm, but only because she was cold. “What?” “You’re all right.” “Just all right? What a disgraceful understatement.” But all right from Zaf felt a thousand times better than self-conscious compliments from someone else.

One day my dad and brother were in a car crash, and they, uh, died.” He always stumbled over that part. Not because it hurt—although it really fucking did—but because it seemed so . . . small. So simple and flat and anticlimactic a phrase for something as monumental as death. You told people “they died,” and hell was folded up inside those two short words. Some people got it. Some people didn’t.

I relate to that

The evidence was warm against his chest right now: she believed in this gem stuff, and she’d given him one, like sharing a slice of faith. That mattered. It mattered so much his bones ached. He put on the necklace, tucking the little red gem safely under his clothes. “Thanks,” he said again, and this time the word came from somewhere deeper.

Zaf looked down at her, flashing the ghost of a grateful smile that melted her middle like gooey chocolate. And suddenly, kissing his shoulder—faking casual affection, rather—felt like the smartest, most accomplished thing she’d ever done. Which, considering her general excellence, was really saying something.

In fact, for once, she couldn’t be—she was too busy staring at his whiteboard in astonishment. There it was, in black and white: a valid understanding of her general thesis topic. “How did you know that?” Dani demanded in a whisper. Zaf arched an eyebrow. “You think I don’t listen when you talk?”

Her voice reached dolphin pitch. “You’ve been reading my articles at the library?” He shrugged,

She was unraveling for him, as if she needed him, and the intensity of it made her feel alive and horribly exposed all at once. It was dangerous, to be like this, to crave like this. It had to be. But then she realized that Zaf was unraveling, too, and suddenly things weren’t so bad.

Zaf lay over her then, and the skin-to-skin contact felt like sinking into a warm bath after a long day, and Dani quite lost her train of thought. He traced the line of her jaw and whispered, “You still with me, sweetheart?”

This was what the word intoxicating really meant: Danika trusting him to touch her, wanting him to touch her, and choosing to touch him.

“Fuck,” he managed, once he could speak again. “Perfect. You’re so perfect.” Her breath caught, and she looked down at him with wide eyes. “I—” “Sweetheart. Don’t argue with me right now.”

Then she leaned forward and kissed him, her breasts rubbing his chest, her weight anchoring him, and all he could think was Mine.

He repeated his hard upward thrusts and held her in place so she could do nothing but take it.

Beside him, she murmured dryly, “Orgasms are meant to relax you, Zafir.” He turned his head on the pillow, met her soft, tired eyes. Felt a punch of dizzying warmth, a soul-deep possessiveness, a tender pleasure that made him want to smile. And he’d thought this was a crush. He’d thought this was a crush. Seriously. Intelligence of a fucking rock.

If this was any other woman, he’d say, Let me convince you to be mine. He’d say, Let me learn you. He’d say, Do you feel that? We could have something.

“There’s nothing immoral about the way I want you, and what I promised was three weeks of making you come. So say the word, and I’ll take you to bed again.” Danika tilted her head back, rising up on her toes until her lips brushed his. “And fall asleep right after,” she murmured, “and snore all night like a big bear, and develop delusions of romance in the morning because you read too many novels.”

It reminded Zaf why he loved this romantic shit so much: because it was all about hope, about finding sparks of light in a world that could be so fucking dark. And there’d been a time in his life when the promise of hope and light were the only things keeping him anchored.

When they met for their usual fake lunch date, and Zaf greeted her with a smile that turned her muscles to jelly, Dani fantasized briefly but passionately about throwing a chair at him. When he bought her a Coke and made her laugh, she seriously considered pushing him into a fast-moving river.

And then, just as the sun’s last rays died, Zaf called. “Hey.” His voice was low and rich and comforting, whiskey and maple syrup. “Hi,” she said, pushing her necklaces aside and rubbing her chest. There was an odd sensation beneath her breastbone that might be heartburn.

He was her universe-mandated fuck buddy, and fuck buddies didn’t run around making gentle romantic gestures. Fuck buddies didn’t know or care that explicit expressions of affection gave Dani hives; nor did they find subtler, easier, low-pressure ways to make her feel special.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I take it you’re not feeling great?” “Oh, goody, you’re interested in my menstruation. Did anyone ever tell you about rectal cramps?” “No, no they did not. Can I come over?” There was a moment of silence. “I said rectal cramps.” “I know.” “As in, your arsehole—” “Yeah, I know what a rectum is. Stop trying to freak me out. Are you hungry or not?”

“You okay, sweetheart?” He squeezed her upper arms, which felt quite lovely, so she grabbed his arms and squeezed back. The corners of his mouth tugged up into a smile. “What are you doing, Dan?” Good question. She stopped squeezing. “Nothing.” “Are you tired?” “Yes.”

He laughed and dragged her into a hug, which was fabulous, because Zaf was the most huggable person on earth. He was very sweet and very soft and very firm.