Chapter Three

Brandon

I shouldn’t remember her face. The sad eyes on her smiling face. The cute crinkle of her nose when I winked at her. I shouldn’t remember a girl I’d only caught a glimpse of yesterday morning when she came in to clean my hotel room. The shy bow of her head when I passed her. The quiet strength that held her shoulders back.

The moment passed too quickly and she was out of my life without ever being a part of it.

A spark, a sizzle that faded with her.

There was nothing between us beyond that moment. Or at least there shouldn’t be. But it’s there in the way I, only moments ago, frantically searched for something, not knowing what that something was until my eyes landed on her in the dimly lit parking lot of the small store. It’s there in the way my blood thrashes in my veins as I stride toward her car to help with the groceries I bought for her family. It’s in the way the tension sizzles to life when her eyes connect with mine.

She doesn’t remember me from yesterday or recognize me. It’s relieving, for once not having to live up to someone else’s expectation of who I am or how I should act.

I step into her space, my body so close to hers I can feel the warmth emanating from her skin. She places a hand on my chest and gives me a small push. My pulse spikes at the contact.

“This way.” She tilts her head toward her apartment building as she holds baby Ada in her arms.

After grabbing some bags from her trunk, I follow her, giving myself a gorgeous view of the curvy thighs encased in tight black pants. She shoots me an apprehensive smile and I shift uncomfortably at the sudden tightness of my jeans. We take the stairs to her apartment and when we reach the top, Gabriel stops me with a firm hand to my shoulder.

“Don’t even think about hurting my sister,” he warns in a hushed tone. “You don’t touch her unless she says you can. Even then, you better think about what you’re doing. If you hurt her…”

“I won’t,” I interrupt. “I’m here for a sandwich. That’s it, man.”

Satisfied, he nods.

A sandwich. If the guys were to see me right now, in this very moment, they’d rupture a blood vessel or two from laughing at me. Maybe even herniate a disc. Collapse a lung, dislocate their jaw. That’s how pathetic, how low I’ve gotten for a woman who only a day ago entranced me with the fierceness I felt brewing beneath the bashfulness.

One look. Whoosh, common sense gone.

From the doorway, Maria stares back at both of us, an amused expression on her face.

“Don’t think for a second he can’t or won’t kick your ass,” she sings back at me.

She ruffles his hair when he goes through the open door and he darts away. With his bags already on the kitchen counter, Gabriel bristles out of the small living space and disappears into a bedroom by the time I put my bags up.

“So,” she says, her awkwardness at our situation palpable.

“I make a mean grilled cheese.” A nervous laugh rumbles inside me.

She sets a sleeping Ada in a baby swing that doesn’t swing when she turns it on. She sighs. “A friend gave it to me,” she says and closes her tired eyes. When she opens her lids, the tiredness remains, but the quiet strength I’ve been waiting for resurfaces.

“You bought the food. I can cook it.”

“Sounds like a fair enough trade.”

Even to me, our conversation sounds stifled. Me, stumbling over my words. Shy even. The guys would seriously own my ass if they saw me now.

She gives me her back and, man, what a back. My dad, who was also the first manager for Sava Effect, was an ass man. Turns out I didn’t just inherit my good looks from him. Quickly, she puts away the few items that barely take up any space in her cupboards or refrigerator. A sad tug pulls at me to give her more, to fill her pantries so she has one less struggle.

I make a mental note of everything I think she’s missing and while she busies herself on the stove, I text the list to my assistant along with Maria’s address so she can deliver everything to her tomorrow. I push away the hesitancy, the uncertainty of how Maria will feel when she sees what I’ve done, and hit send.

She has two kids to feed and take care of, and from the looks of it, she’s doing it alone. My dad would dig his way out of his grave and smack me with a bat if I turned away from her. He wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot and we went at it more than a few times. But he was a man of honor, and men of honor do whatever’s needed to help anyone who needs that extra hand. Regardless of whether they ask for it or not.

Wanting to be closer to her, I sit on the counter beside the stove. She turns her head and smiles at me. It’s slow and the sides of her lips twitch before they spread and that gorgeous smile reaches her eyes. Compelled to touch her, I reach for her, attempting to cup her face or trail my thumb over her chin. On a sharp inhale, she wraps her hand around my wrist where I’m sure she can feel my pulse quicken.

“What are you doing, Brandon?” Her voice is husky and raw and does all sorts of things to me that I’ve never once experienced before.

She inches toward me and I lean down to her. She takes another step and I hop off the counter. We both move forward and slowly the small space between us disappears. Placing both hands on her waist, I pull her the rest of the way to me. Her eyes widen, but she runs a hand over my arm, her finger tracing the outline of one of my tattoos.

I lean into her, my lips brushing slightly over hers, giving her the chance to push me away. But, damn, I hope she doesn’t pull away.

One kiss.

That’s all I want.

All I need.

One kiss.

Instead, her fingers dig into my flesh as she holds onto me. I tilt my head closer to her and when my tongue flicks over her lips, she parts them for me and I slip inside. Her tongue tangles with mine. I move my hands to the back of her head and fist her hair in my hand as I angle her face to the side to deepen the kiss.

There’s hunger in our kiss. Hunger and a flame I hope never goes out.

One kiss, that’s all I wanted.

It’ll never be enough.

She pulls away first, her eyes hooded, and she touches her trembling fingers to her lips. Without saying anything, she goes back to the stove and puts both sandwiches onto the paper plates she’d taken out earlier.

I move to touch her but she puts my plate in my outstretched hand.

“Maria,” I begin, unsure of what I’m supposed to say next.

“Don’t you dare apologize for kissing me.”

“I wasn’t going to,” I say. “Thank you for the sandwich.”

She smiles and I hate that it’s the same smile I saw yesterday in my hotel room. The practiced one that somehow makes her look sadder.

Wanting to remove that expression from existence, I steal another kiss. I press my lips against hers and when she doesn’t open, I lick the seams of her lips. With my free hand around the back of her neck, I trail my lips over her jaw and down her throat.

Her chest lifts and falls in rapid progression. Putting my plate down, I also take hers and place it beside mine. I guide her hands around my neck and trail both my hands down either side of her frame. She shudders and pulls my face to hers. Rather than meet her kiss for kiss, I flick my tongue against the pulse on her throat.

Her nails dig into my skin as her breaths fall around me. It’s as if she’s everywhere, touching my entire body at once.

The sound of a door slamming stops us and like teenagers afraid to get caught, we hastily step away from each other.

“You!” Gabriel shouts, his face alight with happiness instead of anger.

Confused, I point at my chest and ask, “Me?”

Maria chuckles and takes both plates to her round dining room table. I follow her, trying to keep my gaze off her ass, and we both take a seat. I scoot my chair closer to Maria so that my knee bumps hers.

“You’re Brandon Wright!” Gabriel bounces from one foot to the other. He looks at Maria, whose eyes widen in shock. “You’re having dinner with Brandon fucking Wright!”

“Language,” she scolds, without any authority.

Her face pales but she busies herself by taking a bite of her sandwich.

“I knew you looked familiar,” he says.

I duck my head down, disappointed to be outed so soon. Just one night, that’s all I wanted. One night to lay low. One night I didn’t have to put on an act.

Making the best of the situation, I part my lips into a lazy grin.

“Yeah?” I cock my head. “Was that before or after you called me an asshole?”