Page 128

I don’t care. I fist his shirt, drawing him closer. “I’m sure.”
“Thank fuck.” Brandon’s lips crash into mine.
It’s not gentle. It’s years of wanting, of dancing around each other, of pretending this was just an arrangement. His teeth graze my bottom lip, sending a tremor through me as my knees buckle. Before I can falter, his arm tightens around my waist, pulling me in until there’s no space left between us. The crowd fades away, their cheers, the music, and everything except his lips and his fingers digging possessively into my hips.
Why did I deny myself this for so long?
I’ve imagined this moment countless times, but reality hits different. My fingers slide into his hair, soft and thick between my fingers. He tastes like hope and possibility, every late-night conversation we’ve ever had, every almost-moment, and every time I wanted to cross that line but held back.
A small sound escapes my throat as his tongue wrestles with mine, his hand cradling the back of my neck to deepen the kiss.
This isn’t just a kiss. It’s a claim. A promise. An answer to every unspoken question between us.
“Get a room!” Sebastian’s voice cuts through the haze.
“Fuck,” he breathes against my mouth, the word more reverent than crude. His forehead rests against mine, both of us breathing hard. “Ignore them.”
“Hard to do when?—”
His lips capture mine again, softer this time but no less intense. “I’ve wanted to do this since college.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“You wouldn’t let me win at beer pong.”
A laugh bubbles up, and he swallows it with another kiss. I let myself get lost in the taste of him, the feel of his body pressed against mine.
Now, I know why. This seals the deal. I can never go back.
“Okay, okay. Nothing to see.” Blake’s voice pierces through our bubble. “And you two save some for later!”
Brandon breaks the kiss but doesn’t let go of my waist. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, swallowing the ocean blue.
“We should probably…”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t move.
“Brandon.”
“Give me a minute.” His thumb traces my jawline. “I need to memorize this.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
His smile is soft, real. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
My fingers wrap around his wrist, pulling him away from the crowd, away from the prying eyes, and Blake. The service hallway’s dim lighting casts shadows across his face as I drag him into what looks like a storage room, empty except for some folded chairs stacked against the far corner.
“Naomi—”
“Shut up.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
BRANDON
She releases my wrist, spinning to face me like a whisk in a mixing bowl.