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

by Talia Hibbert

She took a breath and began. “Hello, Oshun. Hope the twins are well. This month, I have an intention I think you’ll support: I require another fuck buddy.”

See, what Zaf really wanted was to be happy, and he’d read enough romance novels to know how to make that happen. First, you reached your goals and shit. (He was working on that part.) Second, you found a good woman who made you think bad thoughts and you lived happily ever after with her.

That was the only way to describe it. She looked at him, and she just—she fucking twinkled. All of a sudden, he felt a little bit warm and slightly dizzy and way too horny for a Monday morning at work.

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.

“I was trapped in there for hours.” “Er . . . I don’t think it was hours.” “One hour, then,” she corrected. “Danika, it’s been twelve minutes since the alarm started.”

“We’re being poisoned,” she told him sadly. “By gas. But at least my last sight on this earth will be your wonderful beard.”

“Right. Erm. Sorry about the beard thing. My mind’s all over the place. It’s the gas.” His gorgeous mouth kicked up at one corner. “The . . . nonexistent gas?” “Placebo effect,”

Of course, she couldn’t let him know she was melting, since he was a handsome man, and handsome men must never be allowed to know the full extent of their sexual appeal. They couldn’t be trusted with the knowledge.

“What are you doing, Danika?” “Being beautiful for my people.”

As Gigi always said, Men are much less time-consuming when you lie.

“He looks like Superman flying Lewis Lane to safety,” Eve piped up. “Only, you know, he’s not flying.” “Lois Lane,” Dani corrected. “No,” Eve said serenely. “I’m quite sure it’s Lewis.”

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.”

In reality, Dani would never do something so pointless. Faces were for sitting on, not for kissing.

Relax, mate. We’re not even into anal. Then she leaned forward and murmured, “If you’re that hard up, I’ll shove a fork in there for free.” Zaf’s dick looked at him suspiciously and said, We’re not into it? Are you sure?

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.

Apparently, she had a thing for being grabbed by large men.

My sister 🤞🏾

“If you ever want to know how I do things,” she purred, “just ask.” He didn’t flush, didn’t stutter or change the subject. He didn’t bite, either, didn’t smirk or sway closer. No, Zaf just shook his head, squeezed the back of her neck, and said, “Behave yourself, trouble.”

His mouth was perilously close to her cheek, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough and changed, and it rasped over her skin the way his hands would. “Tell me what it is you want from me, Danika. Explain it to me. Slow.”

Fuck it. Fuck overthinking, fuck playing it safe, fuck saying no when the yes on the tip of his tongue had never tasted so good. He was going to fuck her, and they were both going to enjoy it, and that would be enough. It would have to be enough.

He just really wanted to sleep with her, and hold her hand, and keep her fed and watered while she worked late into the night, and sometimes he wondered what shampoo she used and how he could make all his pillows smell just like it, and he’d better not say any of this out loud because he didn’t think it would help his case.

Zaf is well on his way to spring-cleaning my vagina, hopefully with his mouth, exactly as the goddess intended.”

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.

Was it possible to move on too hard? So hard you became afraid of even glancing back?

“I’ll be clear, then. One: make me come. Two: don’t catch feelings. And three: don’t spend the night.”

What you get out of being loved, it’s supposed to be worth the compromise. When it’s good, it makes you want to compromise.”

“I get that you want casual. But as long as we do this, Danika,” he murmured, “no one touches you but me.”

“Tell me,” he murmured, rolling her nipples between finger and thumb. “Tell me you like it.”

“Can you do something for me, love?” “Anything, I promise, I’ll—just—” “If you like it,” he said softly, “scream.” And then he put his mouth on her.

He traced the line of her jaw and whispered, “You still with me, sweetheart?”

“No more. Don’t make me come before I get inside you.”

Zaf moaned. “You look fucking good with your mouth full, Danika.”

“Now,” he told her. “Dan, please.” He cupped her breast, ran his palm down the length of her body until it curled around her hip. “I need you here.”

“Put me inside you.”

“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.”

“You’re impossible, is what you are.” She cocked her head, shooting him an incandescent smile. “You say the sweetest things.” “Why do I want to kiss you so badly right now?”

“This is how people work, Zaf. We want what we want, and we get it however we can, and when morals or ideals or promises get in the way, we say fuck it and push right past.”

The thing about mental health was, you couldn’t take a course of antibiotics and be magically healed. Some people’s brains just thought too much or felt too much or hurt too much, and you had to stay on top of that.

Fact was, he had . . . feelings for Danika Brown. Soft, mushy, I need you feelings that made him want to hold her hand, or introduce her to his mother, even when she was threatening him with words he didn’t understand.

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.

Feeling is always worth it.

“Sure you don’t, trouble. Just like you definitely didn’t spend lunch staring at my mouth and drooling into your baked potato.” “Zaf Ansari, you are the cockiest little shit I’ve ever—” “Ah, don’t feel bad, Dan. I spent the whole day fantasizing about you, too.”

“Of course you did. I’m very memorable.” “And very pretty when you come. Can’t get it off my mind.”

“Are you glad, Dani,” he asked, his voice smoky, “that you know me?” She put down her sandwich. “Do you enjoy making me say hideous, unnecessary, and mortifying things?”

Maybe you don’t think someone who looks at you the way I do should care about every part of you. Maybe, before, you stumbled across people who only wanted bits and pieces of you. Never the whole package. Never enough.”

The silence between them stretched before Zaf looked away. “Okay, sweetheart,” he sighed. “Okay.”

“Bad timing, huh?” His gaze caught hers and held. “You want me to wait, Dan? Ask me. Just ask, and I will.”

“You are profoundly annoying and extremely troublesome.” “Good thing I have a big dick.”

“I said my girlfriend has been worried about this panel for fucking centuries, and now it’s happening, and if anyone talks over her or gets in the way of me hearing how incredibly smart she is, I will put that someone through a wall. So it’s really in both our interests for you to shut up.” He paused. “Cheers, though. Appreciate it.”

Major or minor, if something keeps you human when pressure makes you feel like a volcano, hold on to that thing by whatever means necessary.”

“Danika,” he breathed, and cupped her face as she undid his belt. “Fuck. You’re going to ruin me.” But he made the prospect sound like heaven, like a gift.