“Whatare we doing?” I asked, startled by his hold on me. I wrapped my hands aroundhis inked wrists, unsure if I should pull him closer or push him away.
Hishead inclined toward me, pressing his forehead against mine. “I wanted to seehow things could be if we just …” His breath caught in his throat, as histhumbs stroked along my cheekbones, coaxing me to look into his eyes.
“OhGod, Brandon, I don’t think—”
Mywords were cut off by the sudden pressure of his mouth against mine. Iconsidered that the wise thing to do would be to pull away, to not allow myselfto start something new after ending a miserable excuse for a relationship, ifyou could even call it that. Yet, I found myself gripping the back of his neckand parting my lips, inviting his tongue to tangle with mine, allowing himdeeper into my heart.
Takingcharge, I blindly backed him into the foyer. His feet must have hit against thestaircase, because the next thing I knew, he was somehow gracefully pulling me downwith him to sit on the two bottom steps, never once breaking the kiss that Iwas certain would leave my tongue sprained by the end of the night. My handsleft his neck to roam the length of his back, trying to memorize the tension ofhis muscles through the taught material of my old t-shirt, traveling over theridges of his spine until I came in contact with the hem. I smiled against hislips, slipping my fingers under the material to brush my fingertips against thesoft skin of his lower back and pulled upward.
Breakingthe kiss to raise his arms, granting me permission to remove the shirt, Icaught the hungry look in Brandon’s blue eyes, darkened by the intensity ofmonths of now-obvious passion.
“Oh,you’re not going to stop me this time?” I teased, reminding him of the firsttime we had kissed in the parking lot at Reade’s too many months earlier.
“I’mnever stopping you again,” he said, pulling the shirt off his arms and tossingit to the marble floor.
“Never,huh?” I said coyly.
Heshook his head, and for just a second, the wanton desire left his eyes and wasreplaced by something beautiful and absolutely fucking terrifying. “Never.”
BeforeI could react to that flash of change, he reverted back to desperation and Ifollowed suit. My eyes feasted on the bulging muscles, accentuated by thetattoos, and it was enough to leave my mouth slack.
“MyGod, you’re so fucking hot,” I breathed, all sense of class leaving me as Iinched my hands towards his chest, feeling like a horny teenager about to getto second base.
Brandonfeigned a gasp, dipping his mouth to my neck, and he said, “I’m not sure mymother would approve of me kissing someone with a mouth like that.”
Ireally did gasp then, with his mouth against my neck, kissing from below my earto my collar bone and back up again. The kisses began lighter than air,painfully taking his time before gradually building up to a battle between histongue and my skin. I leaned into him, burying my face into his shoulderwithout the strength to do anything other than moan and breathe him in, wishingfor the torture to end. Preferably on my back, with him between my legs.
“Brandon,”I panted, my hands maneuvering to the bulging, buttoned fly of his jeans.
“Hmm,”he responded in a growl, muffled against my neck.
“Idon’t think we can be friends anymore.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
BRANDON
“Inever wanted to befriends,” I confessed, grasping onto her hands. “I’ve wantedthissince I first met you.”
Herdark eyes held mine. “Then why didn’t you say so? Why did you tell me youcouldn’t be with me?”
Isighed, dropping my gaze from hers. “Because … Because I haven’t felt this wayin a very, very long time, and it scared the shit out of me.”
Iwondered if I should have taken the opportunity to spill the details then, butall I wanted was to selfishly enjoy that time on the staircase before bringingit all down on my head. I would tell her, but after I got to enjoy a few moremoments as plain old Brandon.
Shenodded, pulling her hands from mine and pressing them against my bare chest,sniffing lightly as her eyes watered. “It scares me too.”
Ismiled, my own eyes growing dewy under the heaviness of the emotionalatmosphere. “For the love ofGod, please don’t fucking cry right now.”
Welaughed together, the sound breathing fresh air into the room. Her hands movedfrom my chest to my face, a palm pressing against each cheek and instinct toldme to mimic.
“Youknow, believe it or not, I was never really a crier,” she said, her fingerstracing the line of my jaw.
Ismiled, my eyes drifting to the lips that were only an inch or two from mine.“You sure had me fooled.”
Shegiggled. Music to my ears. “You should take it as a compliment, actually. I rarelycry around other people.” Her hands moved to the back of my head, her fingerstickling against the ends of my hair.
“Oh,gee, I’m so honored,” I laughed.
