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“Stay tonight?” Brandon’s words rumble through his chest.
“Yeah.” He doesn’t need to ask. “But I need to grab some things from my place first.”
“Tomorrow.” His arms tighten. “Just… stay here now.”
The need in his voice matches something in my chest, this desperate desire to hold onto what feels real and solid when everything else has turned to smoke and shadows.
“Okay.” I tilt my head up, studying his face, the tension around his eyes, and the slight downturn of his mouth. “You’re worried.”
“Of course, I’m fu—” He cuts himself off, taking a deep breath. “Sorry. I just… I need you close right now.”
“I’m here.” I press my palm to his chest, feeling his heart race beneath my touch. “Not going anywhere.”
His hand covers mine, pressing it harder against his chest. “Promise?”
“Promise.” The word comes easily, naturally. Like breathing—the same breathing I’ve been denying myself for twenty-one years under the weight of guilt and secrets. I’ve been holding my breath since I was eight years old, and somehow, here with him, I’m finally exhaling. “Brandon?”
“Yeah?”
“Take it away.”
He captures my lips again. All heat and urgency as he digs his fingers into my hips hard enough to bruise. The pain grounds me. Welcomed. Keeping me from floating away on the tide of revelations, murder, and family secrets. His other hand tangles in my hair, tugging just enough to make me gasp against his mouth.
I need this, need him to overwhelm my senses. So that there is no space for anything but the heat of his skin against mine, the taste of bourbon on his tongue, and the way his chest rumbles when I scrape my nails down his back.
I need him to take control. To take it away.
He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down my neck, teeth grazing my pulse point. My head falls back, giving him better access.
“Tell me what you need.”
My body already answers before my lips can. “You.”
It’s not just about sex. We both know that. It’s about trust and surrender, about letting someone else carry the weight for a while.
His lips curve into that familiar smirk as he stands, lifting me with him. “Bedroom. Now.”
His mouth never leaves my skin, trailing fire down my neck as he kicks the door shut behind us. The room is dark except for city lights filtering through the window, casting shadows across his face when he sets me on the edge of the bed.
“Strip.” The word drags from his lips, rough, dark, deliberate.
A command that promises relief from thinking.
My fingers shake as I unbutton my blouse, each button a small surrender, letting it fall to the floor, followed by my bra. He watches, his eyes dark with hunger, as I stand to shimmy out of my skirt and underwear. The cool air hits my skin, raising goosebumps along my arms, but it’s his gaze that makes me shiver.
“Good girl.” He steps closer. “On your knees.”
I sink down, the carpet rough against my bare skin. His hand tangles in my hair, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. The tenderness from earlier is gone, replaced by something darker, more primal.
“Color?”
The word comes out breathless. “Green.”
“Tell me if that changes.”
I nod, already feeling lighter as control slips from my grasp. Here, I just have to follow his lead. Here, I don’t have to carry the weight of decisions made two decades ago. The irony isn’t lost on me—that surrendering control to him gives me the freedom I’ve been denying myself all these years.
Brandon’s other hand works his belt loose, the leather sliding free with a soft hiss, anticipation coiling low in my belly.