Page 145

“Stop running.”
“I’m literally pinned under you.” Her eyes dart away, avoiding mine. Classic Naomi deflection.
I shift my weight, giving her space to breathe while keeping her caged beneath me. “You know what I mean.”
More tears spill, and fuck if it doesn’t gut me. Naomi Smith, the ice queen herself, crying in my bed.
“I’ve never…” She swallows hard, her throat working. “No one’s ever made me feel like this.”
Her vulnerability, her trust in this moment, it’s humbling. Terrifying. Because I know I could break her if I’m not careful. Hell, I probably will anyway. It’s what I do, even if I don’t want to. Call it a secret messed up superpower of mine.
But right now, with her tears drying on my tongue and her body trembling against mine, all I want is to hold her together. To be the one person who doesn’t let her down.
“Talk to me, cupcake.” I brush her hair back from her face.
“Stop being so…”
“So what?” I roll on my side, gathering her into my arms.
“Gentle.” She spits the word like it’s poison. “I don’t need?—”
“What you need and what you want are two different things, cupcake.” My fingers trail down her spine, feeling each vertebra, each tremor. “Just let me hold you, okay? We don’t need to talk about it.”
“Brandon…”
“Shh.” I tangle my fingers in her hair, anchoring her to me. “Just breathe.”
For once, she listens, her breath slowly evening out as the tension bleeds from her muscles.
Maybe this thing between us is fragile, prone to cracking under the weight of our respective fucked-uppedness. But holding her like this, feeling her heartbeat sync with mine, I’m suddenly certain of one thing.
I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. For her, I’ll try.
“This is mortifying.” She covers her face with her hands.
“First time for everything.” I nip at her ear. “Though I gotta say, making the ice queen melt? Definitely going on my resume.”
She smacks my chest. “I knew you were going to be an ass about it.”
“An ass who made you come so hard you cried. Speaking of which…” I scoop her up. “…let’s get cleaned up.”
“Brandon!” She squirms in my arms. “Put me down.”
“Nope.” I kick open the bathroom door. “Consider this your five-star post-virginity service.”
She stiffens. “Don’t.”
“Make jokes?” I set her down carefully, keeping one arm around her waist as I turn on the shower, admiring my cum trickling down between her legs. Fuck. Concentrate. “Just let me take care of you.”
“You’re stupid.” She tries to hide her beautiful smile, joining me under the spray, letting me wash her hair, clean her body, and hold her close.
If being stupid means seeing that smile and being allowed to do this, I will be stupid any second of the day.
Three months without her felt like cooking during rush hour. Now Naomi’s back, and I can finally breathe again.
The city hums outside my window, but in here, it’s just her breathing and the whisper of sheets. Moonlight catches her sleeping form, my oversized shirt riding up her thigh to reveal the marks I left earlier. Pride and possessiveness surge through me, but it’s more than that—she trusted me enough to fall apart in my arms and to sleep this deeply.
She shifts closer, hand finding my chest with perfect aim. Even unconscious, she knows exactly where to hit. Not that I’m complaining. She could probably stab me, and I’d thank her for it.