I PULLED BRYCE into the house by his shirt. I closed the door behind us, and car tires screeched as a vehicle peeled out down the street.
“Jerk!” I mumbled, clutching my heart. It was probably the neighbor’s kid from a few houses down. There was a time when I was eager to get my night started at eleven o’clock, too.
Bryce was quick to push the curtains aside and look through the window to follow the noise. I laid a hand on his shoulder. “Teenagers. Nothing to worry about.”
He spun to face me and his eyes were wild. They perused the length of my body as if appraising me, making sure I was unharmed. “Nothing to worry about? Five seconds ago you were in a complete panic. You were petrified.”
I took a step back, my hands on my hips. “Yeah, because five seconds ago I heard a noise at the front door and I thought someone was breaking in. Can you blame me?”
Bryce took a deep breath and exhaled through his flared nostrils. In a matter of seconds the worry vanished, remorse in its place. “I’m really sorry about that. I had no idea you scared so easily.”
“Yup, that’s me. I’m a total chicken.” I shrugged. “My brain creates these scenarios. I can get myself worked up about the littlest thing. And I was already on edge about being home alone. Then I heard . . . well, you, at the front door and I completely lost my shit.”
Stepping closer, Bryce caressed my arms in a soothing motion. “You must think I’m a real asshole.”
“No.” I laughed. “The relief I feel right now . . . here . . .” I brought his hand to my chest. “Feel that?”
He nodded, his eyes focused on where his hand pressed against my flimsy T-shirt. “Like a hummingbird’s wings.”
“Well, picture that times a thousand. I don’t know how I didn’t have a heart attack.”
With his hand still over my heart, he lifted the other to frame my face. “Thank God you didn’t. I don’t know how I’d live with myself if I caused you any harm.” It was a serious statement but the way his lips curled up at the corners and his eyes danced with humor, I knew he was being overdramatic to lighten the mood.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. And that’s twice now, by the way.”
“Twice?”
“Two times in twenty-four hours that you saved the day. I should be thanking you, not making you feel bad for scaring the crap out of me.”
“Well, the second time was by default, so it doesn’t count. I should’ve called you first to tell you I was stopping by.”
“Hmmm,” I mused, narrowing my eyes and pouting. “Come to think of it, you do seem to show up out of nowhere, all unexpected and element of surprise.”
Bryce’s forehead furrowed, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips in that way that made me squirm. “And do you object? Or do you love it? Because . . .” He was closer now, our noses on the verge of touching, the scent of his breath minty, his manly aroma teasing my senses. “I think you love it, London.”
The sound of my hard swallow seemed to echo off the walls. It even drowned out the ticking of that goddamn clock. Unable to answer for fear of what would come out of my mouth, I stared at him, regarded him, took in the entirety of his powerful presence.
“Why did you come?” I managed to whisper.
“I kind of lied.” The way he said it—the dip of his tone, the clandestine nature—my skin prickled at the intimidation of his nearness.
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“I knew you were scared.”
He did? Then why . . . My eyes widened, my mouth following suit. The hummingbird’s pace was back, my heart terrorizing the delicate skin and bones that protected it.
“Beautiful girl,” he finally said, erasing any hint of danger from his voice. “I’m playing with you. I came here because your mom told me you didn’t like to be alone and she was worried about you; I wanted to make sure you were okay. I meant to call first, but I got sidetracked leaving the hospital and then, well, I just wanted to get here as fast as I could.” With that, he placed a chaste kiss on my cheek and whispered in my ear, “Do you forgive me?”
This man was so hard to read. One minute he was playful and romantic and the next he made my limbs quake with his elusiveness. I probably should have been scared, cautious, at least, but I wasn’t. I was enamored. Everything about him made my spine tingle with need, my body overflow with lust. Maybe I was the unreadable one, giving mixed signals—scared, then happy; sad, then horny. Maybe I was crazy, but hell, I didn’t care. Feeling all these things meant I was alive.
You make me feel alive. “Yes, Bryce, I forgive you. Now, come in and make it up to me.”
His mouth was on mine before we could cross the threshold from the hallway to the living room. With gentle but passionate force, he backed me against the wall. Anchoring me to him, he reached down and gripped my thigh, pulling my leg up and wrapping it around his waist.
God, this is hot. I couldn’t contain the moan that oozed from my mouth and escaped into his. He drank it up as if it fueled his fire and continued tasting me as if I were the most delectable flavor, a luxury.
“Do you know how badly I want you, London?” He wasn’t searching for an answer. It was a bold proclamation, a command.
I sucked his lips into my mouth in response, ground my core against the stiff erection bulging beneath his pants. I was at his mercy, willing and prepared. “Then take me,” I breathed out impulsively.
His kiss became ravenous, his tongue plunging deeper, his nibbles harsher. I sank my fingers into his dark messy hair and arched my body into his. The friction was glorious. A requirement. If relief didn’t come I would die. He jerked forward, pinning me to the wall with his hips, and I shamelessly pressed myself to him in an attempt to rub out the ache.
. . . when I make you come . . .
His words from earlier reverberated in my head. I wanted him to make me come. I wanted to make him come, too. The need for that indulgence coursed through my veins and I reached between us to unzip his pants and set him free.
A firm grip on my wrist stopped me, however. The kiss ended, the warm, damp skin of our foreheads pressing together. “Not yet. Not like this,” he murmured.
What? Do you know how badly I want you, London? Had I made that up in my head? Had I heard wrong? Oh my God. My conversation with Allie. I was right. He didn’t want me.
I pressed my back against the wall, unraveling my leg from around his waist. I was still panting, still throbbing, and so utterly confused.
Bryce straightened and his heated gaze sought out mine. “I’m sorry. I got carried away.”
“I-I wanted you to get carried away. That was the whole point.” My cheeks were hot with embarrassment, but what the hell? There was no hiding what he did to me, what I wanted him to do to me. “Why did you stop?”
“Because you’re not ready.”
“Excuse me?” Now I felt stupid. I slunk out of his hold, ducking beneath his arm that caged me to the wall. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I wanted an answer but I couldn’t face him. I was humiliated by my eagerness, by the way he must have seen me. The impression of the helpless young girl who couldn’t think for herself. Who needed a man to get by.
I hugged myself, steadying my breaths. After a short moment of silence, Bryce was in front of me again. “London. Please look at me.”
I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.
“Fine.” He huffed. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I shouldn’t have . . . I didn’t come here tonight to fuck you.”
The brashness of his words brought me to attention. I stared into his eyes, searching, trying to figure him out. I couldn’t decipher the purpose behind his kind but mysterious eyes.
“There’s no rush, London. I really like you. Everything about you . . . your kindness, your innocence, the way you care for your mother. I like her, too. She’s a wonderful woman, has to be to have raised you the way she did.” He took another breath and smiled. “I don’t want you to rush into anything you’re not ready to—”
Rush? What about the three date rule? And I was ready. I wanted this! “How do you know what I’m ready for?”
“Because I know. I know I’ll be the first since the divorce, that this is a big deal for you. And I’m okay with waiting because you’re worth the wait.”
“And what if I don’t want to wait?” I was an insolent child, talking back, trying to prove my point.
Bryce reached forward and brushed the hair from my face. “I love this side of you. I underestimated your . . . Can you just trust me? I’m trying to be a good guy here and you’re making it very hard.”
I looked down at his pants, to where his stiffness rocked into me just moments before. It was still visible, still tempting.
When he realized my game, he laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not going anywhere. There’s no rush. If we did this tonight—if I took you up against the wall the way your sweet body was begging me to—I wouldn’t get to take my time. To savor it, to learn every curve, every sound. And that’s not fair, London, because I want to memorize all of that. I want to know you. I want to learn everything there is to know before we go any further, before I make you mine.”
Jesus. This man. He made me crazy, in both a good and bad way. How could I refute that? I mean, maybe he was right. He was older, had more experience. What did I know? You only know Hunter. And that was exactly his point. That my ex-husband’s name was still fresh in my mind . . . Bryce was right. Sleeping with him tonight would be hasty, reckless.
“I’m not sure how you manage to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Know me so well even though you hardly know me at all.”
His lips brushed mine, a resolution to our banter. Whispering against my lips, he said, “Give me time, London, and I’ll know you inside and out.”
With that he pulled away, leaving me with an empty ache and a promise to fill it . . . one day.