He rolls his eyes. “I was so fucking wrong though. Courtney saw a picture of Emmie in my room and well, let’s just say, her reaction showed her true colors. She tried to cover it up, but her face was all twisted in, what I call, her ‘gross’ face. Courtney never said anything to me about it, but I overheard her at some party trashing Emmie to her friend Tori, who is just as evil as Courtney by the way.” He takes a deep breath and resumes tracing his fingers over my knuckles. When he manages to calm down, I can see his face relax and his eyes soften.
The heat in the car is overwhelming, suddenly. I feel like I can’t breathe. Memories flood my brain of being taunted on the playground, of hearing the mean words follow me everywhere I went. I don’t even know Emmie, but my heart hurts for her. I wish I could hug her and tell her the world isn’t as mean as it seems.
But, then I would be lying.
“What did Courtney say, exactly?” I know it doesn’t really matter—mean is mean—the actual words are inconsequential.
He lets a huff slide past his lips as he swipes his hand across his face. “She called Emmie a retard. And she wondered why my family even kept her in the first place. And Tori, her evil sidekick, was standing there laughing with her. Hearing Courtney talk about my little sister like she was some kind of lame, old dog that needed to be put to sleep helped me really see her for who she was. An evil, cruel-hearted bitch.”
My chest constricts at what it must have been like for Bryan to hear those things about Emmie. In an instant, my insecurities about Bryan wanting Courtney over me are gone. Catching this glimpse of the person she truly is solidifies Bryan’s words that he doesn’t want her, ever again.
“When I confronted her about it, she tried to play it off like she was drunk and I was overreacting. I broke up with her on the spot. I’m pretty sure I humiliated her, but I didn’t give a shit. I still don’t give a shit. I wish she would get it through her fucking head that I don’t ever want to be with her again, but she just won’t leave me alone.” He runs his hand through his hair in frustration and a few pieces slide in front of his warm, brown eyes.
Swiping the stray locks out his eyes, I let my fingers travel along his scruffy jawline. “Bryan, I am so sorry you heard those things. You know I would never . . .” His lips silence me.
“Of course I know you would never say those things, that you would never feel those things. It’s one of the things I lo . . . That make me realize how special you are.” His last words are rushed and he clears his throat.
Was he just about to say what I think he was just about to say?
“I guess I was just nervous letting you know about Emmie. It’s stupid, I know, but I was still worried. And, like I said, I’m protective of her.” His chest puffs with pride that he takes care of Emmie, but then deflates slightly when he says, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about her sooner.” His thumb is still tracing patterns over the back of my hand.
“So why didn’t she come today?” I gently squeeze his hand reassuringly.
“She can’t fly. I mean, she goes into this sensory overload state and she gets all freaked out. When I’m here, she uses FaceTime and that’s really the only way I can see her. She loves being on the computer. It’s like a coping mechanism for her.” And with those words it’s like I’m seeing him in an entirely new light—a light that makes me love him even more.
I might be able to admit it to myself, but I’m not ready to say it to him.
Not yet.
“Is that why you’re majoring in Computer Science?” I ask softly, amazed by the poignancy of his choice.
He rubs his stubble-covered face. “Yeah, I mean, when I was in high school, I was able to rig a few things for her, and with the help of her occupational therapist and my computer stuff, she made some real progress. She was happy.” The bright smile that splits his face is a clear indication of how much he loves helping her.
The pieces are all falling into place now. “So that’s why you help Bella. It has nothing to with O’Neill, does it?” I feel like some detective on CSI who has just solved a crime or something.
“Yes.” He gives me a quick peck on the lips and smirks at me. “I actually did meet Bella and Gus through Professor O’Neill, but when I saw how frustrated they were, it reminded me of teaching Emmie how to use a computer. They shouldn’t be denied something that can help them just because they don’t understand it initially. So, I wanted to help them learn, and bring them up to speed with this century. Is that such a bad thing?” He asks playfully as one side of his mouth pulls up into the sexiest smirk I have ever seen.
I repay him the quick peck. “Nope, not at all. In fact, I think it’s a pretty great thing.” It’s actually amazing, and kind, and sweet, and well, you get the idea. It makes me feel shallow and ashamed that I ever thought Bryan would only be interested in me, or anyone for that matter, for their looks alone. In my very limited experience with guys, I never thought to encounter someone with so much depth and passion. I never thought I would be this lucky.
Ready to move on from the rather heavy conversation, Bryan lets out a deep breath and turns to me once again. “Okay, so are you ready to go to this party now? Because after that, I could use a drink!”
“Absolutely. Let’s go have some fun.” I smile cheerfully at him. When he first mentioned going to this party, my thoughts immediately fell on Courtney. Will she be there? What will she say? How will she try to make me feel uncomfortable? What will she do to try and get Bryan back?
But after Bryan sharing this obviously important part of his life, I know, beyond any reasonable doubt, that, even if she is there, there is nothing she can say or do to get between us anymore.
I just won’t let it happen. And now I know for sure that he won’t either.
Walking through the door at Liam’s house, I’m overwhelmed by the distinct stench of vomit. When I turn to my right and see some guy wearing a soccer jersey throwing up into a shoe, I realize where the odor is coming from. The shoe isn’t big enough, or maybe it’s that he’s throwing up too much, but when the puke actually spurts out of the sides of the shoe and splats to the floor, I gag.
“You okay?” Bryan asks as concern pervades his face. He rubs slow circles on my back and it’s calming to feel his touch.
“Yeah, sure. I think I’ll pass on the drinking though.” I don’t think my stomach can take much after that little show.
And then, as if she can sense that he’s walked into the house, Courtney is strutting toward us. “Hey, baby,” she coos as she reaches her hot-pink fingertips out to touch Bryan’s chest.
Does the bitch not see me standing right here? I know she does; she just doesn’t care.
I wish I had a little spray bottle so I could squirt her and yell “Down.” But, that seems immature even for me.
So instead of paying her any attention, I stretch up on my toes and whisper into Bryan’s ear, “I think my suite is empty for the night. Wanna get out of here?” Before moving away from his ear, I trace the shell of it with my tongue and stop to nibble on the lobe—a move very similar to what Courtney did to him that day he came chasing me down.
He drops his arm from my shoulders and grips my waist, pulling me close to his body. Gently pressing his lips to the top of my head, he says into my hair, “Absofuckinglutely. Let’s go.”
And with that, we walk out the door and head back to my room for our own little party.
By the time we reach the door to my suite, the sexual tension that has been between us since we first met is at a boiling point. We’ve been together a month, and we’ve done stuff but not it. But now, tonight, I want him and I’m pretty certain that he wants me. When I pull my key out of my bag and start unlocking the door, Bryan places his hands on either side of my head and leans into my body from behind.
Yep, he wants me.
Unless that’s something else pressing into my back and I highly doubt there’s a banana in his pocket.
In a sudden movement, his hands are gone fr
om the door. One is in my hair and the other is snaking its way around my waist, pulling me even closer to him. Sweeping my hair to the side, he runs his nose up the length of my neck and stops at my pulse point, right behind my ear. When his tongue darts out to taste the skin there, my knees buckle and my insides tighten. He must feel my legs tremble because he pulls me closer to his body and laughs softly in my ear.
Kissing the same spot he’s just licked, he whispers against my skin, “Did you like that, Melanie?”
I can’t form words. So instead of speaking, I place my arm around his at my waist and tangle the other up into his silky hair. Forcing his lips down to the same spot that he just kissed, all I can muster is, “Hmmmm.”
Even though it’s not all that specific, he understands my request and kisses me once more. “I can do a lot more than kiss your neck. You just have to open that door.” I feel his smile against my skin and it’s like he’s extending a challenge.
And oh what a delicious challenge it is. While he nips and kisses my neck, I fumble with the key and actually drop it to the ground. When I move to pick it up, he wraps his arm in a steel band around my waist once again, essentially telling me to stay in place.
When he moves from behind me, my body feels cold—bereft in the absence of his heat. It’s not cold for long though. After snatching the key up from the ground, he grazes the length of my legs with his long fingers. When he arrives at the curve of my ass, he squeezes my flesh and I feel a twinge of embarrassment. I hate my ass. He apparently doesn’t, though.
He slides one hand into a back pocket of my jeans and reaches in front of me with the other. Key in hand, he unlocks the door. The anxiety that I thought I would feel, evaporates when I turn around into the warm circle of his arms.
Squeezing him tightly, I rest my cheek against his solid chest and inhale the spicy scent of his cologne. His hand moves into my hair and he pulls gently, forcing my head up and our eyes to meet.
“You know we don’t have to do anything. We’ve talked about this. When you’re ready . . .” My lips get in the way of his words. Slowly, seductively, passionately, I let my tongue dance in his mouth. When I pull back from the kiss, I meet his eyes, which are now hooded and lust-filled.
“I know you said you would wait. And you have. I’m ready . . . unless you don’t . . .” I don’t want to say it, but that shy, self-hating version of myself is screaming, He doesn’t want you.
That voice is put out of her misery when Bryan’s lips press oh-so-gently up against mine. Speaking against my lips, he says, “No. I want you.” His hand cups my ass again and he pulls my hips up to meet his. His desire is clearly evident once again and I decide to just let this happen.
Gone is shy and insecure Melanie—at least for now. Here, with Bryan, I want to be worthy of his desire. I want to be everything that he deserves—sweet, hot, passionate . . . loving.
Not wanting to break the physical contact of our interlaced fingers or the searing stare of our glued-together eyes, I pull him down the short hallway to my room, walking backwards.
I reach behind me for the knob and twist. Stepping over the threshold makes my heart crash into the wall of my chest. My pulse accelerates and my breath hitches in my throat. Anxiety and nervousness morph into desire. And despite my deep-seeded insecurities, I know that I see that same desire etched into Bryan’s face.
He leans his face into the crook of my neck and kisses the part of my collarbone that’s exposed from behind the neckline of my shirt. Hot, wet lips trace the path of exposed flesh until he arrives at my shoulder. Gently nipping at my skin, and then kissing his little bite, Bryan says, “You have the most beautiful skin. I want to taste all of it.”
Emboldened by his seductive words, I step back from him and reach for the hem of my shirt. I pull it up over my head and toss is to the floor. Even though I’m standing before him in my jeans and black lace bra, I feel naked and exposed. Crazy thoughts fly through my head, but I try my best to silence them. Bryan’s widened eyes fix on my breasts and suddenly I don’t feel so shy.
I feel beautiful.
Wanted.
Desired.
Sexy.
I reach for the hem of his shirt and he pulls it up over his head. His abs ripple under the movement. I have to touch him. When my fingers trace tentatively across his muscled stomach, I feel him shudder and hear a breath hiss from between his lips. With steadier fingers than those that tugged at his shirt, I pull on the button of his jeans and pop it open. He repays the favor and takes it a step further by pushing my jeans down over my hips.
Standing before him in nothing but my bra and panties is exhilarating. The look in his eyes tells me that I have nothing to worry about. The bulge in his unbuttoned jeans tells me that he wants me. The pulse beating visibly in his neck tells me that he’s about to lose control.
He steps closer to me, but doesn’t stop when his chest presses up against mine. Instead, he keeps walking and pushes me with him until my butt collides with my bed. I stare up into his eyes and get lost there for a minute. Usually, they’re the color of liquid chocolate—dark and molten. But right now, I’m seeing amber flecks and golden shimmers.
Bryan effortlessly lifts me up onto the bed, and for the first time in my life, I feel dainty and feminine. Wrapped up in his muscled body, I feel tiny and pretty. He slides my body against his and lowers me onto my back.
With one hand supporting his weight, he unhooks the front clasp of my bra and pulls the straps down my shoulders. Dropping the bra rather unceremoniously to the floor, he stares at my breasts with hunger in his eyes.
Licking his lips, he says, “My God, Melanie. Do you realize how perfect you are? You are so damned beautiful.” I shake my head, to both deny his statement and to avoid having to look into his eyes. He cups my cheek softly, and turns my head back to him. He doesn’t use words to convince me of his recent declaration. His lips do all of the work.
They move from my lips to my neck to my shoulder to the soft curve of the tops of my breasts. He rolls to my side and supports his weight on his bent arm. Using his other hand, he cups my breast and kneads it tenderly. When his thumb strums across my hardened nipple, a groan eases out of my mouth. He does it again, but this time, instead of just passing over it, he squeezes the pink tip gently and pulls slightly. My hips roll seeking some kind of release. “Ahhh, Bryan.”
His lips are buried into my neck. “More?” he asks and I just nod in return. I don’t want to think about what I should say. I just want to feel.
Traveling the same path they did earlier, his lips descend past the top of my breast. When he softly kisses one nipple while rolling the other between his fingers, my hips gyrate wildly and my insides pulse with desire for more.
Bryan senses that more is exactly what I want, so he licks and sucks at my breast like his life depends on it. Ravenously, he moves over to the neglected breast and pays it the same attention. I’m not sure who is more satisfied by the action.
My fingers tangle into his brown hair as it tickles my chest. My flesh prickles and my nipples pucker even more. His kisses follow a path down my body and his tongue dips into my belly button. In the month or so that we’ve been together, we haven’t done much more than making out and groping at each other above our clothes. This is the farthest we’ve gone and he must sense that we’re on some kind of precipice—some kind of point of no return.
His lips stop at the top of my panties and he looks up at me through his dark lashes. I nod, giving him the answer to his unasked question, and he hooks his thumbs into the sides of my panties. My legs shake and my insides quiver as he pulls the black lace over my hips and down my legs.
I’m naked. Fully bared to him as he kneels in between my spread legs, forces a heated blush to race across my body. Bryan is staring down at me like he doesn’t know where to start, doesn’t know what to do. I would give anything to know what’s going on in his head, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead of talking, he runs his fingers up from my
toes, to my calves, across my thighs and stops just inches from my sex. He’s unsure so I arch my back and force my hips up into his touch.
“Please, Bryan. I’m ready. I want you. I want this. Please,” I’m begging, but feeling his hands roam all over my body reduces me to a needy, wanton creature.
He wastes no time with words or explanations. When his fingers trace delicately over my folds, I feel the pressure begin to build inside of me. It’s delicious and unfamiliar. I want relief from it, but I never want it to end.
With my eyes shut and my head rolling from side-to-side, I’m lost to the pleasure of his touch. When he gently slides a finger inside of me, my back arches and my nipples pebble. “You’re so wet, Melanie. But I want to take this slow, so relax.” On his last word, he reaches up to tweak my nipple with his other hand, causing another hot gush of wetness to coat his finger.
When he slides another finger deep inside of me, my insides burn at the stretching feeling. The burn quickly vanishes though as he works his fingers from side-to-side, massaging me, preparing me. That last thought causes my insides to flutter and clench.
“You’re close, Melanie,” he tells me.
“Yes . . . Bryan . . . Yes . . . please.” My words are breathless and match the pattern of his fingers plunging in and out of me.
When he starts kissing the soft flesh of my inner thighs, I know where he’s headed. I know what he’s going to do. At the thought of his mouth on me, my legs squeeze together almost involuntarily. I’m just not sure if I’m ready for that.
Bryan feels the tension permeate my body, so he places his hand on my thigh and tenderly coaxes my legs back open. “Shh, Melanie. Let me do this, please. I’ve been dying to taste you. Since the moment I met you, I’ve wanted this, please.” I can’t say no to the begging tone of his words. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want it.
The Love Series Complete Box Set Page 58
