He was wearing a blue sweater pushed up to the elbows and a pair of jeans that made it obvious why her mother thought him dangerous. No woman in her right mind would look at him and see anything other than trouble.
He looked from her to her friends. “What have you done to her?”
Brenna growled. “Nothing. This might come as a shock to certain people, but I make my own decisions about how I live my life. Good night, girls. Thanks for the lift home.” Disengaging herself from their grasp, she stepped forward while behind her, the girls melted tactfully away.
Keeping her eye on the lights of the hallway, she tried to walk past him but lost her balance and fell against his chest.
Strong hands closed around her shoulders, and she heard the breath hiss through his teeth. “Brenna, just—”
“There is not enough room in this doorway for two people.” She was wedged against him, and she could feel the pressure of his thighs through her coat.
“No.” He gritted his teeth. “There isn’t.”
“I think we might be stuck.” She leaned her head against his chest. “Oh, God, you smell good.” She felt his fingers tighten on her arms.
“Brenna—”
“If you are going to lecture me, don’t. I have had enough of being told what I should and shouldn’t do. I am done with other people knowing what’s good for me.”
“I’m glad to hear it, but why don’t you tell me all that inside so that we don’t both get frostbite.” He eased her inside and closed the door on the cold and the dark. “How much have you drunk?”
“Why? Are you going to lecture me on that, too?”
“No. But I’ve never heard you speak like this before.”
“You’re always telling me to be more assertive and speak my mind. This is what I look like when I speak my mind. I can drink what I like, I can work where I want to work, I can have sex with anyone I want to have sex with. I don’t need public approval.”
There was a brief silence.
A muscle flickered in his jaw, and then he released her.
“What you need,” he drawled, “is coffee. I’ll make some.” He strolled into the kitchen, and she watched, her eyes glued to those strong, athletic legs.
“Ty, do you like the women you have sex with?”
There was a crash as a mug splintered on the floor, followed by uncensored male cursing. “What? What did you say?”
“I asked if you like them.” She slid onto the chair and put her head in her hands, watching him. “Or is the only qualification needed to climb into your bed blond hair and big boobs?”
“What exactly did you drink tonight?”
“You have to answer my question before I answer yours. Hey—” she felt a rush of pride “—did you hear that? I was assertive. I stood my ground. I refused to roll over. Are you impressed?”
His jaw tightened. “The answer is yes, I have to like them. And there haven’t been anywhere near as many as—”
“Tequila.” She beamed at him. “I drank tequila. It was disgusting.”
He scooped up the broken pieces of china and made coffee. “Maybe you should stick to beer next time.”
“I’ll drink what I feel like drinking. So you like them, but don’t you ever want to see them again? I mean, you have sex and then that’s it?”
He put a mug of black coffee down in front of her. “Why are you asking me this?”
“Why not?”
“My sex life isn’t something we normally talk about.”
“I’m done with normal. Who decides what’s normal anyway? Let’s push the boundaries. I want to talk about your sex life.”