by K. I. Lynn
His hand wraps around my wrist and yanks me back down on the bench. I fall onto it, slamming into his side. He catches me with his other hand around my waist. My hand lands on his chest.
His heart’s pounding, the beat so hard it echoes through my hand and up my arm.
“Don’t go,” he whispers, moving his other hand to caress my jaw with his thumb. He gently settles me back on the bench, away from him. “Stay. I want to hang with you.”
I can’t, I want to whine at him. My body is an aching mess. I want him to take it away so bad that I’m tempted to break down and weep from it.
Wouldn’t be the first time, either.
“Kira, please.”
“Fine,” I snap, angry that I can’t fight him on this. Never can, actually. All he has to do is ask, and there I am, the fool giving in.
Just wish he’d ask for something else, damn it.
Huffing, I cross my arms. “What do you want?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Brayden smile and get more comfortable against the wooden fence. “For you to talk to me, dumbass.” He pokes my side with one finger, and it’s all I can do to stop myself from laughing.
No. He doesn’t deserve that. Annoying punk. So I bite the inside of my cheek and keep pretending to be mad at him. “What if I don’t want to talk to you? You’re annoying.”
“You always say that.”
“Because you freaking are!” I cry, throwing my hands up into the air.
Laughing, he grabs one of my hands and links our fingers.
My heart literally stops beating. At least for two seconds. Shocked, I stare down at our hands, and the sight is too . . . Jesus, it’s too right. He feels too right.
“Ryan told me you got chosen to represent us at the high school art festival.”
I nod mutely at Brayden, eyes still on our hands.
“Well?”
“Well what?” I ask.
He bends so that his face is in my line of sight. Slowly, my lids rise, but I can’t look at his eyes. No. Mine are locked on his mouth, and it looks so damn yummy that I can’t tear myself away.
Brayden clears his throat and moves back. Every nerve and blood vessel on my face heats up when I realize he caught where I was focused on, until I’m sure I’m glowing like a neon red light in the darkness.
When I finally bring myself to look at his eyes, they’re flashing with something dangerous, so dark they seem almost black.
“Tell me what you’re planning to show off at the exhibit,” he says, his voice nothing more than a rough rasp.
He doesn’t let go of my hand.
I lick my suddenly dry lips, trying to marshal up enough coherence to give him what he wants. “I don’t know. I’ll probably go with a painting or something.”
“Or something?” He sounds amused.
While I’m sitting here, so hungry for him I feel like my insides are eating themselves.
Did I mention that I hate him sometimes?
Why hasn’t he let go of my hand?
“Pr–probably . . . um . . . I–I’m thinking of going with something portraying the Japanese World War Two era. Since, you know, I . . . l–like it so much.”
I sound like a bumbling, stuttering idiot.
Shame heats up my face some more. Can’t I at least sound like a normal human being around him? Must I be so damn obvious about how much I like him?
A gust of wind hits us. In it’s wake is another dose of his scent. My mouth waters. I don’t know when he started wearing cologne, but I can guess why.
The effect of it combined with his scent is devastating. I know what it does to all the girls that get to be near him.
It’s doing it to me right now.
Silence pulses thick between us.
Is it the silence? I can’t tell anymore. It’s suddenly so hot and the feel of his hand in mine makes it impossible for me to think straight.
“You’re shaking.” Brayden leans forward and runs the index finger of his free hand down my arm, ending where our hands are locked together.
I gasp. Tense.
Horrified, I watch as goose bumps shoot up my arm.
Brayden is watching too, his eyes heavy with something I can’t define.
Or maybe I’m afraid to. Afraid that it’s just my wishful thinking taking over, forcing me to imagine something that isn’t there.
He wraps his hand around my arm, caressing my skin, feeling my goose bumps, and he’s shaking now, too. The muscles in his forearm bulge with restraint. His lids rise when he looks back at me, and his eyes . . . Oh God, his eyes . . .
His hand shoots into my hair, fisting it, and he yanks me closer.
“Kira . . . ” His voice is rough—deeper and thicker than I’ve ever heard it before. “Tell me to stop.”
I’m practically on top of him now, my breasts pressed into his chest. His mouth is right there. All I have to do is lean up and take it.
But I want him to be the one to do it, want him to take it from me.
I place my hand on his side and let it slide upward, allowing myself to take in the feel of his chest for the first time. “N–no.”
Even I can’t believe that word just left my mouth, so it’s no wonder Brayden’s eyes widen with surprise.
Then, he tugs sharply on my hair, anger flashing across his face.
Anger? What? Wait, why?
Brayden pulls me that last inch toward him, nuzzling his nose against mine. My lips part as he stares at them, lids gone heavy.
Desire pulses through me.
Warm. Drugging. Desperate.
Brayden’s eyes momentarily close, his brow tensing and a groan echoing inside his chest. “You smell so damn good, Kitty.”
His words spear through me.
It’s not the first time he’s called me Kitty.
It’s different this time. So freaking different.
My body moves on its own, pulling me to what it wants, to curl around him, grind into him.
Eat him.
“Brayden.” I’m near incoherent. At some point, I fisted his T-shirt, and I only just realize it when I hear the sound of the material stretching beneath my grip.
Brayden’s eyes fly open, and they land on my lips. I can see he wants to kiss me as badly as I need him to kiss me.
But he doesn’t. He provokes me with just the taste of his breath, the nearness of his body.
Damn him for teasing me.
Damn.
Him.
“Kira—”
“Brayden, please.”
“Fuck!” He crushes my lips under his.
His are soft. Hungry.
Unyielding.
My breath leaves me in a rush.
Brayden groans and tilts his head. He pushes his tongue into my mouth, giving me no choice but to open for him, accept whatever he’s going to give me. He moans when our tongues connect.
My needy whimper sets him off. The kiss turns rough. Messy. Brayden tongues my mouth so lewdly that all I can do is moan for him and hold on, my blood sizzling with want.
It’s my first kiss, and it’s more than I’d ever imagined it would be. Especially because he’s the one giving it to me, just like in every one of my fantasies.
Brayden nips at my bottom lip and licks his way across my jaw, down my throat, groaning against my skin with each swipe of his tongue. “You taste so good, Kitty.” He stops at the base of my neck, sucking on the skin there hard. “So fucking good.”
My right leg wraps around his thigh and I move into him, pulling on his hair, trying to bring him back to my mouth.
Chuckling, he gives me what I want, raising his head to slip his tongue back inside me. It twines with mine, slow, each swirl sending shocks of pleasure straight between my legs.
I want him.
I want more.
I want his tongue to stay in my mouth, his hands on my naked skin.
His dick to slide into me and take away the hollow ache that makes me feel sick inside.
&
nbsp; Brayden pulls away, panting hard. I mewl almost desperately and yank on his shirt to bring him back to me. He stops me, the lust slowly replaced by a tender smile on his face that makes my heart ache for him more. “We need to stop.”
“Why?” I gasp, breathless.
“You’re too young for this. Too young for what I want.” He runs a hand through his hair—then, with a deep sigh, he reaches down and adjusts his pants.
I see it then, so hard, trapped. A huge, swollen ridge inside his jeans.
My mouth waters all over again as I stare at it, my body throbbing shamelessly. “Am I?” I can’t prevent myself from asking the question. He was fifteen, my age, when he first slept with someone. Tons of people my age have sex.
A lot even younger than me.
Brayden catches where I’m staring and bites his lips, visibly restraining himself. “Yeah. Definitely too young. We have to wait, baby.”
His words are an arrow of pure, white hope shooting into me. He wants to wait. He wants me.
But not right now. Because he thinks I’m too young.
I can’t wait any longer. Knowing he wants me has shot my desire for him to a whole new level. I can’t wait a single second more without him.
“I’m sure some of the other guys wouldn’t think so,” I tell him, my gaze still locked on the bulge in his pants.
A violent, angry sound leaves him, and my eyes fly up to find his flashing with that dangerous glint I’d seen before. “And I’ll kill any motherfucker that even thinks of trying to get that from you. You hear me?”
I’m dumbstruck, don’t even know what to say. What’s the appropriate response? Anger? Delight at his possessiveness? Or frustration at the fact that he won’t have sex with me?
Maybe sheer happiness at the fact that he wants me too.
“Oy! Dickface. Where you at?”
Brayden tenses.
My heart drops.
Fuck. Ryan.
My brother calls out for him again, drawing closer and closer to our little hiding spot.
And the change that comes over Brayden is instant.
The heat in his eyes disappears, shoved behind a bland, stoic expression. He moves away from me, running a hand through his hair, this time in agitation.
“Stupid,” he mumbles under his breath, shaking his head, not looking at me. He bends down to pick up his phone from where it’d fallen on the grass during our kiss.
“Brayden.” My voice is tiny. Frail. He’s moving away from me. I’ve seen him do it many times before—stow away his feelings. He’s shutting down, an almost palpable wall forming between us, pushing away what just happened.
It’s not fair. He finally gave me a taste of what we’d be like. Finally gave me some hope. I’m still aching for him, shaking with the need to have him close to me.
Brayden stops right next to the tree that has hidden us from view, his hand braced against it. He doesn’t turn to look at me.
I silently beg him to. I know that, if he’ll just see me, see the hunger in my eyes, how much I need to be with him, he’ll realize why he has to stay.
How could he want me as much as I want him and walk away? Okay, maybe I want him more, but there was something there, something in his kiss.
Is it because he’s best friends with my brother? We can work around that. Make Ryan understand.
“There you are, dickface.” Ryan laughs, obviously spotting Brayden standing by the tree.
“Nah. More like cuntface. What’s the matter, fool? You look like you’re about to kick someone’s ass.”
Shit. Austin is with Ryan, too.
“What are you doing over there?” Ryan asks.
“Nothing.” Brayden’s pause after that word slices something inside me, and my heart squeezes in on itself. “Absolutely nothing.” He steps away from the tree and starts heading toward them.
Away from me.
Without looking back.
He walks away like nothing just happened. As if he hasn’t ruined me for any other guy with a single kiss.
And I know, in the pit of my sick being, that he’s going to find somebody else to be with tonight. Someone else to kiss. Someone else to give his body to.
I’m not even surprised when I hear a tiny sob leave me. Definitely not surprised when I feel the first tear slide down my cheek.
I need to get out of here. Need to leave this damn party. I have to sneak out before anyone finds me and sees me like this: heartbroken, miserable.
Most of all, I have to get the hell out of here before Brayden decides to sneak into one of the bedrooms with whatever little slut he picks for the night.
I’m barely keeping it together. No way I can handle that.
The next day
I need to see her. The sound of her voice, the way she’d said my name before I left her last night, haunts me.
Fuck, her taste is haunting me. I spent all night awake, aching to finish what we’d started.
I had to walk away from her last night. Not only to regain some control, but because her brother had been mere steps away from discovering us. And Austin. No way I wanted him to see her like that.
Her pupils were blown. Gorgeous cheeks flushed. Lips swollen from my kisses.
They would’ve known the moment they saw her what had been going on moments before.
I need more time. Time to get my shit together. Time to ease Ryan into the idea of me being with his sister.
Because I’m going to be with his sister. There’s no doubt about it now.
I told myself I would never have a girlfriend, but fuck, it’s so obvious. Makes so much damn sense I want to slam my head into the wall for being such an idiot for years.
Kira is it. The girl I’ve always wanted. The one I always told myself was nothing more than a friend even though I knew deep down that I wanted so much more with her.
If any girl is going to be my girl officially, it’s her.
I want her.
My cock aches for her.
My heart is fucking screaming for her.
I can’t have her body. Not yet. I’ll be eighteen next month and she just turned fifteen. As much as I want her, our age gap is a problem for a few more years. The law doesn't look too kindly on it, and jail is nowhere in my life plan.
But there's nothing stopping me from dating her. Kissing her, making out with her—all okay.
I’ll wait for her. I swear I’ll wait. Somehow, I’ll find the way to keep my damned dick under control and out of her pussy until she’s old enough.
Somehow.
I have no damn idea how, though. I had to jack off three times last night alone, and that was only from a kiss.
A kiss and the taste of her skin on my tongue.
I bit her really hard last night. I wonder if I left a mark. Holy shit, I hope I did. Just thinking about my mark on that pretty skin makes me hard all over again.
It’s that kind of thinking that’s going to make waiting for her impossible. I know this. Not like I can control it, though. Doesn’t matter.
I’ll find a way. I’ll find a way. I’ll find a way.
I repeat that over and over, trying to convince myself.
Thank God it’s Saturday morning. No school. Nothing to get in my way. Just the endless hours of the night, dragging on by as I pace in my room, horny, agitated.
Determined.
Each time it gets too much, the sounds of her moans replaying in my mind, I stop and fuck my fist, her name on my lips when I come.
As soon as 11 am hits, and I know she’s awake, I rush into my bathroom and take the quickest shower of my life. I’m dressed less than five minutes later and running out of my room.
I’m heading next door.
Going to talk to Kira first, tell her the truth, and erase the hurt I’d heard in her tone last night.
Then I have to talk to Ryan. Prom is in two weeks, and I want his sister to be my date. Which means he has to know way before then so that he has time to get used to the idea.
I pound my way down the stairs, debating if I should just jump the last four down—
Kira.
I almost lose my footing and have to catch myself on the railing when I see her standing just inside my door.
She’s in the foyer. Clearly just walked in.
Kira’s in my house.
Holy shit, did she come for me?
Her wide eyes are on me, a strange mixture of concern and anger in her stare.
She crosses her arms, closing herself off from me. “You okay? Looks like you almost broke your neck there.”
Her tone tells me that she really, really wanted me to.
Seeing her angry does things to me, because I know why she’s pissed. I left her hanging last night, left us both hanging.
I plan to fix that. Right now.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” I run the last few steps down to her.
She turns without looking at me, heading toward the living room. Which I find odd, but I’m too focused on what I need to question her on it.
All I register is that she’s walking away from me and that just won’t do. “Nope.” I grab her arm and bring her back toward me.
She stumbles, her head flying around and her eyes glaring at me. “What?”
“Come.” I pull her in the opposite direction of the living room, down the short flight of stairs leading into the pool room.
“Are you freaking stupid?” she hisses, stumbling down the steps and into me.
I laugh, turning to wrap an arm around her waist and sweep her up against me. She sputters, face going red, and that makes me laugh some more.
By the time I press her up against the wall next to the entrance, she’s so mad she’s practically spitting fire at me.
I smile at her, so damn happy to see her that I can’t hide it. “Hi.”
She pouts up at me. “Get away from me.”
I smile wider. “We need to talk.”
With a little huff, she rolls her eyes and pushes at my chest, trying to get me to move. “There’s nothing to talk about. Move. Before someone sees you acting stupid.”
