Page 78

Warmth. That’s the first thing I register as consciousness seeps in, slow as honey. Not the artificial heat of a blanket, but something solid. Breathing.
Brandon.
The club, the dancing, the car ride… Me, stripping down to my underwear like some desperate… God, what was I thinking?
I wasn’t. That’s the problem. Tequila and unresolved sexual tension are a dangerous combo.
I’m in Brandon’s bed. Wearing his shirt. Cuddling.
Again.
And then…
I try to wiggle out, but he grumbles and hauls me right back.
“Mmm.” His voice is a slow, sleepy rasp. “Where you going, cupcake?”
“I, uh…” My brain short-circuits, too focused on the feeling of his bare chest against my back. “Bathroom?”
“Nuh-uh.” He nuzzles into my hair, inhaling deeply. “You smell too good to leave.”
My heart hammers in my chest. This is too much, too intimate. We don’t do this. We don’t cuddle or share soft morning moments.
“Brandon…” I try to make my voice firm, but it comes out breathy. “Let me up.”
“Don’t wanna.” His hand trails down, finding the bare skin of my thigh beneath the hem of his shirt. “Wanna keep you here.”
I shiver, my body betraying me. “We can’t… this isn’t…” This is not part of the plan. This is so far beyond the realm of the plan, it’s in another fucking galaxy. Can’t we pretend yesterday never happened?
“Isn’t what?” His fingers draw lazy circles, each one higher. “Isn’t what you want?”
“Only because your bed is comfortable.”
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through me. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, cupcake.”
“You know this changes nothing, right? You’re still an ass.” I inhale sharply as his fingers graze the edge of my panties. “You said no sex.”
“Mmm, I did.” He nips at my shoulder. “But there are other things we can do that aren’t quite sex.”
“Like what?” Damn it. I shouldn’t encourage him.
“Like this.” His hand cups me through the thin lace, and my hips jerk. “You’re already so wet for me, aren’t you?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to gather my scattered thoughts. This is dangerous territory, treading the line between our carefully constructed boundaries. But my body’s too busy arching into his touch to listen to reason.
“That’s it.” His fingers slip beneath the fabric, finding my slick heat. “Let me make you feel good.”
“No kissing.” It’s a plea and a protest all in one. I can’t think straight with his fingers teasing me like this. What would his lips do?
“Still with these rules?” He circles my clit with maddening slowness. “Pretty sure those went out the window when you stripped down last night.”
“I was drunk.”
“And now?”
“Temporary insanity.” I try to squeeze my legs together to deny him access, but it’s a weak attempt. “Obviously, brought on by prolonged exposure to your ego.”
“Beautiful little liar.” He delves a finger inside me, and I choke back a whimper. “You want this. Want me. Don’t deny it.”