Heather
For some reason, when Brandon tells me about Oliver’s accident…I don’t panic.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I frown. “I hope he’s going to be okay.”
Brandon’s eyes twinkle and he devours my lips before I even know what’s happening. I missed someone kissing me like he does—like he wants me so bad that it overwhelms both of us when we touch. Oliver and I were like that once.
I can’t think about Oliver right now.
The more Oliver slips away from me, the more Brandon seems within my reach.
The gold flecks in his brown eyes captivate me when he lets go. My legs are drawn to him; my body aches at the thought of his lips on my skin. I turn in his lap and face him, pressing my body against him. My hips move in circles against his pelvis and his rough hands grab my ass and squeeze hard. He pulls me closer and buries his face in my hair, pressing his hard-on into me and groaning softly.
“Are you sure you want this?” His breath is ragged. “I mean, you really want me?”
“I want you,” I breathe into his ear.
Before I can change my mind, he grabs me and stands up, wrapping my legs around his waist. I feel drunk and the room spins with my excitement, but all I can focus on is how incredible it feels to have him throw me down onto the bed and rip off my pajamas. The chill of the room tickles my naked body as he tears off his own clothes and looks down at me. The adrenaline inside my veins is taking over every inch of me as he examines what I look like completely naked—he hasn’t seen me this way since we hooked up in the hotel. Except then it wasn’t anything more than a one-night stand.
Now all I ever need is going to be found in him.
“Wait.” I catch my breath and try to swallow the air caught in my throat. “I don’t want to end up pregnant like Julie.”
He chuckles and I hear him open something. The sound of rubber squeaks between his fingers. He doesn’t say a word as he forces my legs open and looks into my eyes once more for confirmation, just to be sure.
“I want you, Brandon.” I lower my voice. “It’s okay…you don’t have to be scared.”
He growls. “I’m not fucking scared.”
His hard flesh pushes into me and I clutch onto his bare back for stability as our bodies buck on the purple bed. His thrusts get deeper and harder with each passing minute; the more he thinks about what he’s doing, the harder he pushes. I rake my nails across his flesh and he growls loudly, pushing me harder into the bed and moaning.
I let him turn me over without pulling out of me, and he gathers my hair into his hands, pulling the tangled mess backward until he’s satisfied with the level of pain he’s giving me. It doesn’t hurt…not in a bad way, that is. Something shifts between us as he lets my hair free and grips my sides, pushing into me with more longing than frustration.
I slide onto him and meet his every thrust until he turns me back around to face him. His eyes capture mine and he looks sad. My fingers reach up and touch his cheek; his eyes widen with surprise and a smile grows on his lips. “I want to do this right.”
I giggle. “You’re doing it right.”
“No.” His hair is matted to his forehead with sweat. “I want to do everything with you right. This isn’t right…not like this. I didn’t do things right before; I broke all the rules.”
Rules.
I frown. “I don’t live life by rules. This is what it is.”
His lips lower onto my neck and he sucks it. “And what is this?”
“I don’t know.”
His breath is hot on my skin and I want more; I can’t handle the games he’s playing right now…and screw whatever rules he wants me to follow. He slides back into me and I wrap my legs tightly around him so he can’t escape again. His body crumples into mine. He holds me as our bodies slide together, and when the room explodes…it explodes. The purple mess comes back into my view and the room is darkened by the night sky outside the open curtains.
Once he catches his breath and notices that I’m smiling like a damn idiot, he rolls off me and kisses my shoulder. “You confuse the hell out of me.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but I can hear the smile on his own face.
“How so?” I prop myself up on my elbow.
“You tell me one thing and then do another—it’s very confusing. You say you don’t want to have sex, yet…” He sees the anger building in my eyes and kisses my lips. “Don’t get me wrong. That was…pretty damn good…but what if we’re both too messed up to make this work?”
I snuggle into his body and sigh. “I’ve never been the girl who lets someone in all the way. Oliver and I never connected like you and I have without even trying. I think we both owe it to ourselves to try and make it work.”
He yawns and grabs the purple comforter from the bottom of the bed, draping it over our naked bodies. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay? I have to go to work early, but maybe we can have dinner after I get home.”
He’s already asleep before I can muster up the courage to say anything else. He wants to talk tomorrow, and that’s all I can really hope for.
I can’t expect him to be perfect when I’m nowhere near it either.
I remember how my mother was when I was growing up: She slept around and the whole town talked about her like she was a piece of trash. My friends’ parents wouldn’t let me hang out with them anymore and all I had left were guys to keep me company.
Just like her.
I haven’t seen my mother since I left for New York; the last things she said to me never sat well with me, so I haven’t made the effort to reach out.
“You go off and try and live a better life while I stay here and rot.” Her snarl echoes in my head. “You’ll be back—you’ll come crawling back, and then I’ll get to tell you I told you so.”
I’m going to do everything I can not to have to return to her. I want to wake Brandon up and tell him all of my dirty, dark, and embarrassing secrets, but I know there’s a time and a place for that. This isn’t it. I like watching him sleep, though. He’s peaceful and sort of…beautiful.
Not that any man likes to be called beautiful.
In the early pictures of him with Julie, he’d looked like he’d stepped out of a Marilyn Manson concert or something; his overgrown, somewhat greasy black hair was the first indication that I’d never be caught dead talking to him if I’d met him sooner. I wonder what changed for him—when he started to take better care of himself and see his reflection in the mirror as something more valuable.
We all have our demons—it’s how we choose to live with them that makes us who we are.
Julie looked like a typical blonde and bubbly cheerleader, someone I would actually have been friends with in another life. Talking to Brandon about her and judging by the way Oliver fawns over her…I’m starting to feel a pull toward her too. There’s something about her that makes it damn near impossible to fully hate her guts, and that’s different for me. I know I want to hate her for snatching Oliver up and leaving Brandon, but in all reality, she’s a victim here too.
Maybe we can all be friends someday.
I smile. I know it’s a pipe dream, but when I’m finished soaking up all the good karma I can get…maybe I’ll work on being her friend next. A chill runs down my spine. I’ll have to be able to stand to look at her first, but I’m trying.
I’m really trying.
So, Brandon has rules of his own.
I want to make this work.
I have to live by his rules.
Whatever they are.