DEAN

 

Brenna finally comes out of the bathroom, and I watch as she makes her way through the crowded dining room back to our table. I was worried that her history with Tylor might be a problem, but I was more concerned with my brother’s reaction. I had planned for that, but I hadn’t planned on Brenna freaking out.

As she got closer, I try to judge her mood. I hope it isn’t as bad as I fear. But as she gets closer, she’s looking everywhere but at me. Yep, this isn’t happening.  I blow out the breath I’ve been holding and signal the waiter.

Tyler and I are competitive. We bet on stupid things and always try to outdo each other. But I’m not competing over her. It’s just my luck. I finally find a woman who captures my interest—who’s genuinely interested in me and not my money—and Tyler has already beat me.

She sits down and fidgets with her napkin, folding it, laying it across her lap, adjusting it, and refolding. Her discomfort is painful to watch.

“Is everything alright?” I ask

“Sorry. I…uhm. I didn’t mean to leave… Then I had a call… Everything is fine. What were we talking about?” She looks up and attempts a smile. I would laugh at the pitiful effort if the whole situation wasn’t so awkward.

It’s obvious that my relationship with Tyler is an issue. There’s only one thing I can do about it.

“The waiter is bringing our check,” I say. “If you’re not finished, we can wait, or I can have them box it up for you. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Relief flashes across her face, but then something I can’t quite read. Disappointment? I’m probably just projecting. The waiter comes back and collects our plates, leaving the check behind. The silence at the table is an unwelcome, but not unexpected, guest. I wanted this date to be memorable, but not in this way.

“I’m sorry I ruined tonight,” she says after we leave the restaurant and start walking the three blocks back to our apartment.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I assure her.

I slide a hand to the small of her back to help her navigate the uneven sidewalk, and I can’t help but imagine what it would have been like to have her slight body pressed against mine. To have my fist wrapped around her glossy black hair as those wine-stained lips suck me off. I grit my teeth and banish those thoughts. It’s not going to happen.

“This was my fault,” I say as we wait to cross the street. “I assumed you knew who I was. I knew who you were right away. It never occurred to me—” I shrug my shoulder and try to play off my disappointment. “You know, it doesn’t matter.”

“This is ridiculous.” She looks up at me. Her big blue eyes soften, and she lets out a breath. “Does it bother you that I dated Tyler?”

“No.” The light changes, but we don’t move. “But I have a feeling it bothers you.”

“I’ll admit, I was shocked when I found out and reacted badly. You caught me off guard. But it shouldn’t matter that you’re Tyler’s step-brother.” She says, firmly. As if she is trying to convince herself. "We were young. I was a different person back then."

I’m not sure if her answer puts me at ease or if I should be worried. There’s more to their history than either one is letting on. It would be safer to end this now, but I can’t.

"Funny, Tyler said almost exactly the same thing."

"Well, it's true,” she says and crosses the street. “Do you remember what you were like when you were eighteen? You think you have everything figured out, but in reality, there's so much you don't know. Living on my own and supporting myself. Starting my own company. I've learned so much about life and myself. I wouldn’t even recognize the girl I used to be." She stops in front of our building and takes my hand between hers.  “I’d like to start over if we can.”

“I’m not angry with you,” I say, bringing her hand up to my lips and kissing the knuckles. “I had a nice time getting to know you, and I’d still like to be friends.”

“What if I don't want to be friends?” she says, blinking those big, innocent eyes up at me.

“Well, I suppose we could be polite neighbors,” I say and let go of her hand. “You don't owe me anything.”

“That's not what I mean,” she says, stepping closer. “Last night, when you were sitting on the floor with me, and you tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, did you want to kiss me? Because I wanted you to. I still want you to kiss me.”

My gaze drifts down to her lips. “What exactly are you trying to say?” I ask.

“Landon is staying the night at a friend’s house after band practice. I have a bottle of wine and some ice cream. Would you like to come up for dessert?” she says, her lips curling into a smile. Those cute ass dimples appear, and I wonder if she knows how inviting her offer is.

“I do want to kiss you. I want to do so much more. But I’m not going to compete with the past.” I pull her against me and tip her chin up, letting my finger trace her lips. “If I go upstairs with you, it’s going to be just you and me.”

A shiver travels down her spine, and she nods, letting out a shaky breath.

I lean down and seal our agreement with a kiss. That was probably my first mistake. When our lips touch, it’s all over. I don’t care if she still has a thing for my brother, I have to have her.

I’ve kissed my share of women in the past, but every one of those encounters pales in comparison. Her lips are sweet with the taste of wine and cherry lip gloss. Carnal pleasure and innocence swirled together, just like the woman in my arms.

My tongue delves deeper into her mouth, and a low, soft moan escapes her lips. Her fingers curl into a fist, and she pulls at my shirt. And just like that our kiss turns desperate. My cock aches to claim her as my own. A primal desire overtakes me, and I’m determined to make her mine.

Because it doesn’t matter who came before me, tonight there will be only one name on her lips.