“Bianca.” He sits on the bed, sinking the mattress down. “This is serious. Something’s wrong.” Dropping his hand, he latches it onto mine, which lies near my side. “I know you like being tough, but this isn’t about that.” He drags his fingers across my skin, alighting flecks of comfort across the area he touches. “This is about your wellbeing. I think you should get checked out.”
“No.” I mumble it out, my brows pulled together.
A grumble slips out of him, and he rakes a hand along the side of his head. “Fuck. Why did I have to meet the most stubborn woman on earth?” He moves, adjusting his weight to slide off the bed.
I don’t want that. My heart hammers louder in my ears, picking up in tempo at the thought of being alone again for the rest of the day. He’s checked on me a few times, but he’s mostly left me in peace, which I’m tired of. I’m also regretting my negative thoughts about not wanting him to move some of his items here from last week. Right now he’s the best sight in the world, headache and all. And I need him. Something about his voice and touch makes the headache more bearable.
Flipping my hand up, I grip around the bottom of his forearm, halting his departure. “Brett. Stay.” I pulse my fingers around his muscular arm, praying he’ll feel the desperation working in me. My heart slows when he listens. It sings when he joins me on the bed.
“Can you lie down on your side?”
I nod, suppressing a groan while a deep throb thrums across my brain.
“Then do that so I can hold you.”
Words have never sounded sweeter, and if I could, I’d leap into action. But I can’t. Slowly I turn, careful not to jostle my head along the way. Anything faster than the pace of a snail has left me cursing my ancestors for whatever the hell this torment is.
Successfully in a fetal ball, Brett curls up behind me, draping his large hand across my stomach.
“Jesus.” His warm breath tickles the hair on my neck. “You’re so difficult.” The words and tone are all frustration, but I know he’s not too upset as he lightly kisses my skin. Trailing his lips up and down on my neck in a few simple passes, he rests a hand to the top of my head and runs his fingers through my hair. “Why aren’t you getting tested, Bianca? Don’t you want to know what’s going on?”
I don’t answer. My eyes droop shut and I’m happy talking is near impossible today. It’s the perfect avoidance of his question. The real reason why I’m not going is because I’m scared. The panic of how serious this is slithers around inside, snaking around my stomach. And while I’d never admit it to anyone, I’m worried something serious is going on, and who wants to know about that?
Ignorance is bliss. I just need to reassure myself of that.
It’s nothing. The words repeat, all the way up until I’m lost in sleep with Brett sleeping right beside me, helping me combat the pain—helping me believe that in the morning this will be gone and I can get back to life as usual.
But until then, I’m thankful Brett’s here to hold me. The heat of his body, the weight of his hand. Him. In the dark, falling asleep to the rhythm of his breaths, he’s never felt more right.
Damn, I’m glad he’s here.
Chapter 23
“I still haven’t heard from Lizzie.” I recline into Brett’s sofa, right into his arms, eyes closed. I have no idea what’s going on with Lizzie. She won’t return my calls, but I think she remains set on moving. That’s the last Cora heard, and while I’d like to dwell on it longer, a moan slips out as Brett gives me a massage. He’s so damn good at it, I’m like an addict—a slave to his touch. I elbow him as he tries to drop his arms. “No one said you could stop.”
He laughs, and even with my eyes closed, I can imagine the sin-filled smile spanning across his face. “Man, you’re bossy.” Leaning forward, he flicks his tongue at my ear once.
“You love it.”
“I do, even though it drives me fucking nuts.” Warm breath rushes against my skin with his chuckle, but the sound is subdued. I already know he’s thinking about the phone call he got earlier today—even my shoulders wind up thinking about it.
“So when does Monica’s husband want to meet up with you?”
His fingers knead deeper into my muscles at the question. “In a few days. After he gets back from a trip.” Brett’s voice is calm, but he’s nervous.
I’m nervous for him, clutching at my necklace hoping the meeting goes well. Paul, Monica’s husband, called saying he had some questions about Monica. Brett tried to get Paul to go into further detail, but he remained tight lipped over the phone. And while Brett and I can guess what the discussion will be about, we obviously don’t know the outcome.
“What if he runs you out of town?” While I’m preparing for Brett to leave, I don’t want it to be at the doing of Monica.
“I’ll try not to let it get to that point.” Giving my arms a full squeeze, he places a kiss on my neck. “I’m sure I’ll work something out. For now, let’s not worry about that.”
I relax into him, hungry for another kiss. “Then what are we going to worry about?”
“Turn around, kiss me back, and find out.”
“Yes, sir.” Giggling, I turn around, cup his face, and close my lips around his.
Moments after, we’re both trapped in blaze of our desires. Sometime later, as I chant his name, sweat-drenched and void of my senses, I’m wondering if maybe it would be best for Paul to run Brett out of town.
What we are is only supposed to last until Brett leaves, and it’s already been too long. Each moment with him ties me to Brett a bit more, and as I fall asleep in his arms that night, I slip further into him—doomed by discovering I’m starting to want him to stay, but protected by the knowledge of knowing he’ll leave.
What should be anxiety-inducing revelations float away with me settling on the idea that he’ll leave soon.
Soon, Brett will either get his land or get run out of town. But in either case he’ll be gone. And while I’ll miss our mind-blowing sex, I’ll be safe again.
Alone and in control. Just like I was born to be.
Chapter 24
Brett walks through the front door of his apartment and I flip my laptop to a close fast, no longer able to focus on writing. Well, it’s not like that’s been happening anyway. Anxiety has knotted my core and getting out words has been impossible. The door catches shut behind him and I wring my hands so tight my skin burns.
When he doesn’t say anything at first and casually strolls for the open kitchen, I jump to my feet. “Well? What did Paul say?”
Brett met with Monica’s husband this morning, and the last two hours have been torture while I’ve waited to see what kind of problems this will cause for Brett. I shift weight from the balls of my feet while Brett takes a swig of water. “Did he talk to you about Monica?”
“Sure did.” Damn, he sounds calm while saying it. For whatever reason it makes my stomach swirl.
I clutch my necklace, yanking at the chain. “And?”
“He heard about Monica and I, and wanted to confirm it.”
I blink slowly, head tilting hard to the side. “How did he find out? Did Monica say something?”
“Ironically, no.” He chuckles. “She complained to a friend about us being together. She told her about our basement session and mentioned you being a poor substitute.”
Ouch. A sting radiates through my chest. I rub at the ache.
“The funny part is her friend was jealous of Monica since she wanted to be with me. Said friend then went to Paul and ratted her out.”
A snort comes through my nose. Damn, life serves up karma in the finest ways at times. Still, the humor is short lived as I look at Brett. My shoulders weigh down and I sigh. “So Paul asked about you and Monica and . . . ? What did you say?”
“The truth.” He sets his glass down on the counter, walks around, and smirks. “Thank God Paul had enough sense to ask if I’d been tricked into thinking she was single, and if she threatened me. I guess he’s be
en suspecting things for a while.”
Not the outcome I was expecting. My mouth dangles open. “And what did he decide to do?”
“Leave.” He shrugs and pockets his hands. “He told me my confirmation was the last straw. Paul’s selling everything, taking his kids, and moving out of state.”
“And the property? I’m sure he didn’t want to offer it up. Not after—”
“Actually, he did. He told me it was mine.”
“Really?” A smile beams across my lips. To say I’m elated about Brett snagging something he’s been fighting for is an understatement. At least Monica didn’t ruin that for him. “Oh, Brett that’s—”
“I didn’t take it.”
“What?” My eyes widen, shock knocking me back a few steps. I could not have heard that right. I blink a few times and try again. “What did you just say?”
“That I turned it down.” It rolls off his tongue in a smooth combination, not stuttering or missing a beat. “I don’t want the land anymore.”
“I-I don’t understand.” I frown in confusion. “Why don’t you want the land?”
“Because it’s poison, Bianca.” He draws nearer, shoes pounding on the wood of his floor. With each shuffle forward, my pulse ramps up. “Chasing the land, trying to get even . . .” A frown tugs down the corner of his mouth. “It’s not worth it. The sole person I’m fucking over is myself, and I don’t want to live like that.”
“Well, wow. Uh . . . good for you.” I guess. All I’ve heard is that he’s given up on his dreams, but it’s Brett’s choice. Also, there goes my sex life. With no land to buy, he’ll leave quicker than I thought, but I’ve been preparing for this. Rubbing my palms together, my shoulders bunch up. “I see.” I attempt to smile and nod at his baffling choice. “So, I guess when you return home—”
“Home?” Groomed brows snap together. “What the hell?” Running his eyes over my body, I notice he’s rigid, and I don’t miss the hard shock twisting in his tone. “What do you mean by that?”
My head draws back. “Wasn’t that the plan?” A tightness pulls at my sternum, and dread creeps over me with the feeling that everything I’m about to hear is going to be something I don’t like. “To leave after you got the property?”
“Not anymore.” His head tilts after my mouth drops open. “I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but ever since Saber returned with me, my plan has always been to stay here.”
Shit. No. Shit. If there was a chair behind me, I’d collapse into it. This isn’t part of the plan. I was only supposed to relinquish control of wanting him to last until he left.
“Bianca? Are you kidding me?” A red hue splashes across his face and he rakes through the side of his hair. “Please tell me you’re not this far in denial? What’s the point of me moving my things into your house if I’m not planning on staying?”
Fuck. A fresh wave of panic slaps me across the face. “You can’t!” My voice shatters the unusual quiet of the room.
“What?” His brows meld together. It looks like he’s eaten something sour. “What do you mean, ‘I can’t’?”
“Like I said.” Something hard coats over my heart, taking my voice with it as I force back the flood of shock that commanded me moments ago. “You’re not supposed to stay here, Brett. It’s not a part of the—”
He takes a large step forward, and my words die.
Heavy, baited silence looms over us and it lasts for far too long.
“It’s not a part of what, Bianca?” His tone is deep, threatening.
I methodically take a slow shuffle backward, ensuring that this time, I get the space I need. “It’s not part of the plan.”
“What plan?” A look of disgust swirls in his eyes.
“It’s complicated, Brett.” My throat tightens when he moves for me again. I creep back one more step. “We are complicated.” Understatement of the year. “I think it’s best if you leave.” I say it, numbing my nerves and injecting the same sound into my voice. A huge part of me wants Brett to stay—wants to believe that we can last and be more . . . but it’s just too dangerous. The amount of control I’ll have to give up to be in a real relationship with someone isn’t worth the risk.
Taking a huge swallow, I pull my shoulders back and force a glare. “You need to leave.”
He mirrors my look and arches a brow. “The fuck if I do.”
All the blood drains out my body. When his jaw grits and he takes a deep breath, it depletes all the oxygen in the air during the process. My lungs are heavy, smothering me from the inside out.
“Brett—” I take one more step of retreat. Shit. My spine smacks against the wall. I’ve been so focused on Brett, I’ve failed to notice my surroundings, and I’m pinned. But that doesn’t mean I have to sound weak.
Tossing back the anxiety swirling up my insides, I jut my chin out and steady my voice. “I meant exactly what I said, Brett. You can’t stay here. You’re not meant t—”
He flies across the room, and he’s over me. Two hands on either side of my body—a massive wave of heat wrapping around me.
Smacking his palms to the wall, a loud thud echoes and roars in my ears. “What the fuck is all this bullshit?” His chest bumps mine and a deep growl rumbles from the back of his throat. “Telling me when I can stay and not stay?”
“Yo-you can’t,” I stammer, my heart thrashing in my chest.
“The fuck if I can’t.” There’s a glower in his eyes. It pierces through me while he lowers his head. “And why do you have this notion that I can’t? Are you scared?”
“I’m not.” My throat dries up. “I have nothing to be afraid of.”
“You have everything to be scared of,” he counters. “You think I haven’t been watching you? Noticing you? You won’t say it because you’re afraid to be happy. You’re always expecting the worst and then when it doesn’t happen, you pray it comes true.”
Damn. Nothing in me moves, minus the hairs on my neck. They ripple upward, standing on end while his truth nails me to the wall. “Please . . .” My voice is a plea. “Please just leave.”
Please let me be safe.
“Fuck no.” His eyes go dark. “I’m sick of you bossing me around, Bianca.” His nostrils flare. “I’m not taking the land and I’m staying. With you,” he adds after scanning my face.
Fuck. Dread creeps up my body, snaking around each organ inside until it reaches my throat and constricts around my neck. “Brett, no.” It wheezes out, like I’m being choked.
“That’s a piss poor response.” He bears weight into the wall, forcing our bodies to skim across each other. He burns like a forest fire against me, and I want to engulf myself in the flames. Instead, I glue my ass to the wall to keep myself in check. I won’t touch him. I won’t be consumed. “What is it? Are you afraid of having something deeper?”
“No—no.” Yes. “It’s only because I don’t need you.”
“Bullshit, you don’t need me. You need me as much as I need you. You’re simply scared to admit it.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is. I told you I see you, because I am you. You think I’m not scared to try something real for once? Trust me, I see your fear. Every time you look at me, I see how you try to block me out, but it won’t work, Bianca. We’re not made to be separated.” He brushes his knuckles down my cheek and I shiver. “And I’m here to break you of your irrationality as well as my own. I’m going to show you how twisted your lie is.”
“You’re wrong.” I press more of my body against the wall, hoping to escape the man who’s just cut and splayed open my whole existence.
It doesn’t work, he feels closer than ever, bound to my soul as he brings our foreheads together—his breath heavy, mine nonexistent.
“Then instead of telling me I can’t stay, make it personal and say you don’t want me in your life.”
My body tenses and my eyes pull wide open.
“Say. It.” Hot words trail over my nose, cheeks, and ears. “Bett
er yet,” he groans, “say it after you stop me.”
Hot greedy lips crash onto mine, abundant weight falls on me, pressing me hard into the drywall—each bump imprints into my back. One taste of peppermint and I open wide, letting him consume me. Own me. Fuck. Own me. And I can’t stop it. I’m tugging him in, erasing all space between us, wishing he could knit his heart to mine. But it still wouldn’t be enough. I’ll always be depleted of him no matter how much I receive.
Warm hands secure around my back and he presses me against his marbled frame. He fits my soul. Each jagged piece of him seeps deep inside, marking me as his, and damn if this doesn’t feel like this is how my existence should be. Shit.
I love it.
I hate it.
Shoving him off me will keep me safe from the storm that is Brett. My hands clench the lapels of his shirt and I flex my biceps, preparing to force him away. “Fuuuck!” Raw electricity coils down my body when his fingers deftly slip under my pants to rub my clit. He circles, and my legs quiver. A whimper trails out my mouth.
He dives in further, brushing my drenched opening, and groans. “So beautifully fucking wet, for me,” he says dark and low. “Me.”
“Yes.” I gasp, unable to stop my confession. “For you.”
Black eyes sizzle, branding my skin while his chest expands. “Do you want me out of your life?”
Shit. I pinch my lips closed, refusing to spill how weak I am.
After an eternity of examining my features, he smirks. “Very well. You want to clam up? Well, guess what? I won’t allow it.” My skin vibrates with need at the words. “I’ll get the truth today because no matter what bullshit you throw at me, the one thing that can’t lie is your body. It always speaks truth to me, kitten.”
“Fuck.” My throat is arid, each fiber in me trembles. But he’s right. One tug at my pants has me spreading my legs, allowing him whatever access he needs.
“Mine,” he groans, and I wilt at those words, strength draining out of my limbs.
He draws my panties to the side. The cooling atmosphere forces me to take a sharp inhale of air, and when his finger grazes my opening, the room swims around me.
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