Every Breath You Take (The Every Breath Duet Book 1)

by Faith Andrews

  Bryce smirked, his hands traveling the length of my arms to entangle all ten of his fingers with all ten of mine. “You’re very sexy when you’re nervous.”

  Oh, God. What is he doing to me? My eyes went wide, my heart thumping a reckless drumbeat. “I am? I mean . . . oh my God, I really should shut up and go home.”

  “That’s a good idea.” He chuckled. “Not shutting up . . . going home. You haven’t eaten all day and I’m sure you’ll want to be here for her tomorrow. You have to take care of you, too.”

  I let that seep in. Innocently, I closed my eyes, rolled my head back, and bit my lower lip. I sighed as my mind fluttered with a mix of countless emotions.

  “Don’t do that here.” It was a breathy growl.

  “Do what?” My eyes were back on his in an instant. They were dark, amplified, intense.

  He looked around to assess our surroundings. We were pretty much alone in this corner of the hallway. Once he realized no one was around, Bryce leaned lower and grazed my ear with a whisper. “Your face just now. I imagine that’s what you’d look like when you . . . when I make you come.”

  Burning. Throbbing. Aching. I pressed my thighs together to control the sudden current of pleasure. I wasn’t sure, but I could’ve sworn a desperate moan escaped my lips before Bryce stood tall and made a show of straightening his white coat.

  I was speechless. Awestruck. That mouth. No man had ever spoken to me like that before. Not even Hunter. It stole my breath, my sanity. It was positively thrilling.

  Bryce cleared his throat, his eyes never shifting from me. They caressed my heated skin, almost penetrating my deepest, darkest, dirtiest thoughts. And then he was back to business. “I have more patients to see. Will you be okay getting home? I can arrange for a car or—”

  “No, no, no.” My voice was raspy, pathetic. Look what you’ve done to me. I swallowed to dislodge my nerves. “You’ve done so much already, Bryce. Really. Thank you for everything. For helping my mother.” For igniting something inside of me that lay dormant for too long.

  “Anything for you.” He winked.

  I held on to the wall so I wouldn’t pass out.

  Silence blanketed us. We were two people, unsure of what came next.

  Bryce bent forward and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. “Go home. I’ll call to check in on you later. Remember, she’s in good hands.” He held them out in front of me, wiggling his long, deft fingers.

  I wanted to reach out and touch them again, allow them to touch and feel me, too. But I restrained with a smile and a nod, and merely said, “Later.”

  Back in her room, I tucked my mother in and kissed her good night as Bryce suggested. She sent me off with a tired smile and a reassuring squeeze of my hand. She already looked better than she had when we first arrived in a frenzy, and my mind was more at ease, knowing she had a team of people looking out for her. That she had Bryce looking out for her.

  As I exited the room and started for the elevator, my body still tingled from the threat of his words. It was crazy. In the middle of such a mess, amid worrying about my mother, Bryce had found a way to get me all hot and bothered.

  All the wine in the world would not drown out my fears. Not that I had all the wine in the world to test that theory. There was a measly glassful of Merlot left at the house and all the stores were already closed.

  The house was quiet. Too quiet, for my taste. The ticking of the ridiculous cuckoo clock my mother had in the kitchen for as long as I could remember drove me to the brink of madness. It was one of those antique Monroe family heirlooms she couldn’t bear to part with. I, on the other hand, found it creepy. Thankfully, the stupid birds that used to chirp and squawk every hour on the hour had stopped working a long time ago. Which only left the incessant ticking . . . and the silence.

  I never liked being home alone. Even as a kid, while Mom was working and Memphis was at baseball or hockey and the house was empty, I would go next door to Sam’s or he came here to keep me company.

  And then there was my house with Hunter, the only other place I’d lived aside from here. When he first left, I lay awake most nights, fearful but stubborn. I really tried to be brave. But when that didn’t work, I cried myself to sleep, exhaustion kicking in and overriding my fears.

  I learned to adjust in his absence, but then the house foreclosed, my bank account was lower than low, and before I knew it, I was back here. In hindsight, moving home was a blessing, but it was also a setback. I was a twenty-six-year-old woman who’d never lived on her own. Maybe I never would.

  I turned up the volume on the television to drown out my thoughts and that damn clock. A rerun of Friends made me smile. It was an early episode where Ross was still pining over Rachel. I busied myself by tidying an already immaculate kitchen and putting away laundry. But I was scared to be alone, plain and simple. I would’ve been better off staying at the hospital and sleeping in the uncomfortable chair next to my mother’s bed. At this rate, I had no idea how I’d get through the night—and it was too late to call anyone.

  Sam was still away, Emilia and Allie were most likely already asleep, my brother and I didn’t have that kind of relationship, and Mom was bound to a hospital for another night of unanswered questions and worries. That left Bryce, who was working. And even if he wasn’t, I didn’t want to call on him to rescue the damsel in distress. Not twice in one day.

  It was eleven o’clock on a Thursday night in July and I felt completely helpless. Loneliness crept into the marrow of my bones like a ghost haunting every atom of my body. That hollowness manifested, spreading, burrowing, sinking deeper with each second that ticked by, taunting me cruelly.

  I stared blankly at the bright flashes moving across the television screen. A commercial now. An advertisement for some Viagra-like wonder drug. And then a teaser for a movie coming out next week. A horror film, of course. That’s all I needed. One glimpse of that disturbing, possessed demon-child and I was jumping off the couch and galloping up the stairs two at a time.

  There were sleep-aids in the medicine cabinet. I’d take two, bury myself under the covers, leave all the lights on, and pray for sleep. Good plan, scaredy cat, I thought to myself, and then I heard something downstairs.

  “Shit! You’ve got to be kidding me!” I whisper-yelled. In my panicked state I couldn’t tell if the sound was a knock at the front door, a forceful bang at the window, or simply the wind brushing a branch against the aluminum siding.

  My pulse sprinted to an alarming rate, my limbs beginning to tremble. I was here alone and there was no hiding it. The house was lit up like a Christmas tree and whoever was outside trying to get in had to know someone was home. Fight or flight kicked in at some point after I nearly peed my pants, and I searched the bathroom for my phone. I remembered bringing it upstairs with me, knowing I’d be turning in for the night. Sure enough, it was next to the hamper where I left it while I washed my face.

  I lunged for the lifeline, ready to call 9–1-1 to explain there was an intruder. Yeah, I was jumping the gun, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. I was not going out like one of those idiots in the movies. Nope, I was staying put and calling for back up. If it was a false alarm . . . oh, well, at least I lived to see another day.

  But as I locked the bathroom door behind me and steadied my shaky hand to open the phone with my thumbprint, an incoming call lit up the screen.

  Bryce calling . . .

  Oh my God! I’m saved! “Hello?” My voice was laced with terror, there was no denying that.

  “London? Are you okay? You sound—”

  “I think someone’s trying to break into my house!” I cupped my mouth and the phone, speaking softly. No need to give away my location to the nutcase on his rape and pillage mission.

  “London, oh my God! I’m so sorry. It’s me. I’m outside. I just knocked on the door. I didn’t mean to scare you. I probably should’ve called or texted first, but I-I wanted to surprise you.” He sounded so apologetic, I could actually picture
his olive complexion paling as the color drained from his face.

  I exhaled for a good sixty-seconds and closed my eyes. Relief flooded my overcharged veins, my heart rate finally slowing. Bryce is here. Nine million thoughts should’ve run through my head. Never mind that I had no idea what he was doing here at this hour or how he knew where I lived . . . I wasn’t alone anymore. There was no intruder. I was safe!

  “Holy shit! You don’t know how happy I am that you’re here! I’ll be right down.”

  I didn’t care how that made me sound—overzealous, desperate, weak. Those few minutes when I thought my life was in danger were the scariest ever. I needed human contact. I needed Bryce.

  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.