by Sam Mariano
Brant’s not slippery like Theo. I trust him to give it to me straight, but what if I’m trusting him a little too much? Even Bri thought he might have killed me after he caught me at the fair with Dirk, and she’s his twin sister.
Right now feels like a test. I’m going straight to Brant without delay, and in my mind he’ll wrap an arm around me and let me hug him while glowering unpleasantly at Theo in the pool. He’ll protect me like he swore he would, trusting me and understanding that I didn’t do anything to provoke Theo’s attention, putting all the blame right where it belongs—on Theo’s shoulders, not mine.
A whisper of doubt reaches me when I finally get to him and his hand closes around my wrist like a shackle. He pulls me the rest of the way, but it’s me he glowers at, not Theo.
“What the fuck was that?” he demands, voice low.
A headier wave of fear rolls over me and I try to pull my arm from his vise-like grip. “Let me go.”
Brant scowls, and I look up at him like a rabbit caught in a trap, exactly the wrong way to look at him, the wrong way to respond. Logically, I know that, but Theo’s words are still in my head and I’m all shaken up.
Rather than release me, Brant’s hold tightens and his jaw locks. My instincts tell me to fight harder and get the hell away from him, but I don’t know if it’s really my instincts, or just Theo getting in my head making me feel so scared.
I don’t want to inflame the situation even more, so I try to rein in my reaction. I make myself stop resisting, since my resistance only makes him hold on tighter.
The moment feels like it goes on forever, but it’s really only a few tense seconds. Brant doesn’t say another word, just stares at me like he doesn’t know who I am.
After a moment, he drags me toward the house. My stomach is in knots, but I know I’m going wherever he wants me to whether I go with or without a struggle. Not wanting to draw more attention to myself than I already have, I follow him even though it feels like a bad idea.
We pass Bri in the kitchen, making a new batch of punch to take outside. I’m momentarily relieved she was in here when Theo made things weird—I was so worried about Brant’s reaction, I didn’t have time to search the crowd for hers.
“Hey, you two,” she greets cheerfully, but her expression droops when she sees Brant dragging me by the wrist.
The look on my face probably doesn’t help, so I try to school it and flash a smile, but before I can, Brant is already hauling me out of the kitchen.
Bri abandons the punch on the counter and moves toward the hall. “Is everything okay?” she calls after us.
“We’re fine,” Brant barks back.
My face heats up, so I don’t look back. I don’t think I would be able to do much to reassure her right this second.
Brant hauls me into the spare bedroom on the lower level, the one where the desktop computer is—the one where Theo took my virginity. My body heats up with even more shame, so by the time Brant closes the door behind us and rounds on me, I’m a mess of guilt and bad decisions.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt before he even says anything.
“For what?” he asks, his voice so low and dangerous, it makes my tummy flutter.
“I don’t know...” I back away from him. Brant steps forward when I step back, but even knowing I’m cornering myself, I keep retreating. “For everything. For all of it.”
Disregarding my fearful blanket apology, Brant demands, “What did he say to you?”
Fumbling for an answer, I back myself up against a wall. Since I can’t retreat any farther, I stop, but Brant moves in right on top of me, caging me against the wall with a strong arm on each side of my head.
He feels so much bigger and more imposing when he’s angry, like a beautiful but unforgiving wall of man. The sense of danger radiating off him as he towers over me is no illusion, either. I know firsthand the danger is real. That should scare me—and it does, but it also turns me on. I’m caught between fear and longing, and he’s standing so close to me, my hormones are starting to overthrow my trepidation.
I can smell him, his natural, masculine scent, and it makes my stomach knot up with desire. I want to taste him. I want to peel his shirt off and kiss my way across his muscular chest. I want his strong hands grabbing me and yanking me close to his hard body. I want to feel his skin beneath my lips as I leave desperate kisses all the way down his abdomen and unbuckle his belt.
Since he’s caging me in but not doing anything to restrain me further, I tentatively reach out and rest my hands on his sides. “Why are you mad at me?” I ask softly.
“Why are you acting like you’ve done something wrong?” he fires back.
“Because you’re mad at me,” I offer, lifting my eyebrows. “I don’t know if you know this about yourself, but you’re a little scary when you’re angry.”
“I told you not to be alone with him,” Brant reminds me.
“I wasn’t. I was in the pool with the baby, and there were plenty of other people in the yard.”
“You looked pretty alone to me,” he says darkly, making my stomach sink. “What did he say to you?” he repeats, more aggressively this time.
I swallow, looking up at him. “I can’t—nothing all that important. He said he was sorry for sending you after me.”
“Yeah, I bet he is,” Brant mutters.
“He mostly said dumb stuff like that, just trying to make excuses for what he did—or tried to do. Nothing important, Brant. Nothing worth getting upset over.”
“What did he say to make you afraid of me?”
That question sends dread pouring through me. “I’m not—I’m not afraid of you.”
His lips curve up, but there’s no humor on his face. “Yeah, you look real calm for someone who isn’t afraid and didn’t do anything wrong,” he says dryly. “Why’d he touch you? What did you say to him?”
I hate the distrust I see glimmering in his hard eyes. There’s nothing loving there right now. He’s guarded and angry, looking at me like I’m an opponent instead of a teammate.
I don’t want to be his opponent. We both know he’d win, anyway. I’m a lover, not a fighter, and Brant has fought a lot more than he’s loved.
“Brant,” I say softly, imploringly, reaching a hand up to caress his hard jaw. “I didn’t do anything wrong, I swear. Nothing he said matters. I didn’t listen to any of it.”
“That’s not how it looks from where I’m standing,” Brant states, obstinate as ever. “Bri could’ve seen you—did you think of that?”
I didn’t do anything.
There’s no point repeating myself over and over again. He’s not interested in my innocence right now. I don’t know what he wants, what he needs, but I try to turn it around and step into his shoes. If I were in his place, if he had been in that pool with some other woman who was leaning in and whispering in his ear, I know what I’d want to hear.
Bracing myself for whatever reaction he might have, I tighten my arm around his waist and pull my body against his. “I don’t want him, Brant. I don’t want anyone but you, I promise.”
He doesn’t move, doesn’t respond. He just watches me, skepticism written all over his handsome features.
“I’m sorry he cornered me. I tried to leave the pool as soon as he got in, but he kept stopping me. He was just trying to get in my head. I’m not stupid enough to let him.”
“You sure?” he asks, a little coolly. “It looked like he was in your head a couple minutes ago.”
I frown at him mildly but brush it off. I don’t think he meant to imply I might be stupid, and there’s little point picking a side fight when we’re already in one.
I’m not winning with words, so I give up on them. Instead, I push up on my tiptoes, lock my arms around his neck, and pull him down so I can kiss him.
He might be stubborn, but I’m half-naked and wet, so his body responds. He winds an arm around my waist to pull me closer, but after only a few seconds, he reconsiders and plants his h
ands under my butt so he can lift me.
I wrap my legs around him and let him carry me over to the bed. I have a hunch he’s about to drop me on it, so I break the kiss to tell him, “Wait.”
He looks up at me in question, but only for a moment. I reach behind my neck to untie the halter and let the straps fall, then I undo the tie behind my back. The damp fabric falls forward and I catch it in my hand, then toss it through the open bathroom door so my wet swimsuit doesn’t dampen the bed.
“The bottoms are even wetter,” I offer with exaggerated, eyelash-batting innocence.
“Better get ’em off you then, huh?” Brant grumbles back.
I nod my head, locking my arms around his body as he eases forward and lays me down across the bed. Despite his bluster, he’s gentle when he puts me down, and that tells me all I really need to know.
His hands move under my ass, not letting it touch the neatly made bed, then he yanks my bikini bottoms down and climbs back down to peel them off me.
Once I’m completely naked, he tosses the bottoms to join the top piece on the bathroom floor, then grabs my cool thighs and wrenches them apart. I blush as he looks between my legs, still fully dressed himself.
He looks handsome as hell today in a casual navy blue T-shirt and navy shorts, showing off just a little of his tan, muscular body. I love how strong he is—not gym-strong like Theo, but the kind of strength that develops naturally from all his manly pursuits.
When Brant’s gaze returns to my face, his eyes narrow skeptically at the sight of my dreamy smile. “What’s that look for?”
“You’re just so sexy, it’s hard to take sometimes.”
He rolls his eyes. “Your attempts to butter me up are getting more and more transparent.”
“I’m not buttering you up,” I insist, reaching out my arms for him.
He climbs on the bed and moves into my waiting arms, but doesn’t appear convinced. “Sure you’re not.”
“I’m not.” I lift my head and kiss him on the lips. “I don’t think you and I see the same thing when we look at you. If anyone would’ve told me it was possible for a man to be so competent and handsome and such a great catch and also unaware of it, I wouldn’t have believed them.”
“I know I’m competent,” he informs me.
I smile softly. “I think you’re wonderful in all the ways.”
Looking down at me, he says, “I think you’re mine now, and you better not forget it.”
My smile is replaced with a light frown. “What does that mean?”
“It means you can’t make a habit of acting up and then trying to seduce me out of my temper. You’re not gonna make me look like a fool, Alyssa. I won’t put up with that.”
My scowl deepens for a multitude of reasons. He’s annoying me, but he’s also triggering my protective instincts. “I would never do anything to make you look like a fool, Brant. I don’t think that’s even possible. You’re too impressive to ever be made to look a fool.”
His lips curve up faintly, but there’s no humor behind it. Shaking his head, he assures me, “It’s been done before, but I was a lot younger then. You’re young now, and maybe it’s not fair, but you don’t get to make those kinds of mistakes, not if you’re gonna be with me.”
Caressing his jaw, I assure him, “I won’t. I promise.”
He holds my gaze for a moment, then bends to press his face into the curve of my neck. I love the way he gathers me close like I’m something precious, the way his sensual lips move against my neck as he murmurs, “I hope not.”
I wrap one arm around his torso to hold him close and let my other hand move through the soft locks of his dark hair. He leaves a trail of kisses from the base of my neck to my jawline, then drops a few more as he moves in toward my mouth.
When he claims it, I melt even more, locking my legs around him and pulling him fully against my bare body. Only then do I realize he’s still wearing all his clothes, and I’m growing increasingly less patient.
Lifting my head so I can arch up and whisper in his ear, I tell him, “I need you inside me.”
Brant’s grip tightens against my back and he skims his hand along my side until it’s high enough to grab one of my breasts. “Why do you have to go and say a thing like that when I’m trying to kiss you?”
“I have needs,” I inform him. “You can kiss me and fuck me at the same time, can’t you?”
Amusement glints in his dark eyes and he shakes his head at me. “You’re a demanding little thing, aren’t you?”
With an unapologetic shrug, I tell him, “Pregnant women get really horny. It’s science.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to leave you wanting, now, would I?”
I melt into the arm supporting my back as his other hand leaves my breast and drifts down between my thighs. At the same moment he pushes the blunt tip of his finger inside me, he dips his head and starts kissing all around my sensitive breasts. Luxurious pleasure lights up so many of my nerve endings, I can’t keep my eyes open.
Slowly, he eases me back to the mattress and climbs on top of me, his finger moving in gentle strokes to get me started. His tongue darts out and tweaks the sensitive tip of my hardened nipple and I gasp, arching back against the mattress.
My grip on his hair tightens as his mouth closes around the peak of my breast. He subtly repositions now that he has a hand free, bringing it up to knead my right breast while he sucks on my left. Every now and then he strokes my nipple and sends a jolt of electricity straight through me.
Before long, I’m a gasping, panting mess of stimulation. He’s still fingering me, but every time I get close, the bastard moves his finger elsewhere. I can tell from the smirk on his face he’s doing it on purpose, so I finally shoot him a dirty look.
“Why are you torturing me?”
With an unapologetic, one-shoulder shrug, he offers back, “Maybe you deserve a little bit of torture.”
I pout at him. Then, to add a little motivation to my offering, I run my hand down his abdomen, slide it between his legs, and rub the hard bulge I find there.
Brant inhales sharply, tipping his head back and closing his eyes while I touch him. I run my fingers over the fabric, finding the thick outline of his cock.
“Please?” I ask sweetly, stroking him.
With a strained groan, he finally mutters, “Fuck,” and reaches down to push my hand away. I’d be more disappointed that he also pulls his finger from my body, but then I hear him unbuttoning and unzipping his shorts and my heart soars, my blood pounding harder through my veins as my excitement ramps up.
As soon as he kicks his shorts off, he settles himself between my legs and lines his cock up at my entrance. Without making me ask again, he pushes inside.
There’s instant relief as he fills me. The desperate need I felt only a second ago gives way to an ocean of pleasure. I sink into it and let the waves lap over me. Brant’s calloused fingers dig into my hips, and he holds me still while he pulls back and thrusts forward into my body again.
I don’t know why I ever wasted time not having sex with him. He should’ve met me like a year or two ago and saved me from making boneheaded decisions to fool around with inferior guys. Sure, I would’ve been a little underage, but Brant is no stickler for obeying laws. He could’ve introduced me to all this good stuff then and maybe it really would be his baby nestled in my belly.
That barbed thought rips a slice of regret right through me, but I untangle it and swat it away. Brant told me it will be like this is his baby, and I believe him. Besides, the next one will be.
I reach for him and pull him toward me. He takes the hint and releases my hips, coming down on top of me and using one arm to brace his weight on the bed.
I wind my arms around his neck, pulling his face closer so I can kiss him. “I can’t wait to marry you,” I tell him.
He smiles against my lips as he moves inside me. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“You’re going to be the best husband and fat
her. We’re going to have a beautiful life together.”
“That we are,” he agrees. “As for right now, though, we’ve gotta do something about your ability to speak in full sentences.”
“What—?”
Before I have a chance to finish my question, Brant pulls out of me, turns me over onto my tummy, and drives into me from behind. The pressure is already so much different from this angle, but then he reaches around and presses a finger against my clit, and just like that, my ability to speak coherently evaporates.
The rest of our mating is carnal and wordless, save for a few whined “Pleases” from me and a couple groaned “Fucks” from him. He makes me come twice before he lets go and joins me in blissful surrender.
In the aftermath, I curl up beside him and snuggle as close to his strong body as possible. I rest my hand over his heart and close my eyes, tuned into him as the beating beneath my fingers slows from frantic to resting. Still with my eyes closed, I absently kiss his chest where I can reach without moving.
When we entered this room, I definitely wasn’t in the mood to make any romantic declarations, but looking up at him now, all I feel is warmth and tenderness. When I reach up and caress his strong jaw, I catch his attention. When his dark eyes come to rest on my face with all the affection I feel reflected back at me, I feel safe enough to tell him, “I love you.”
It’s not such a scary thing to say to someone I already know I’m marrying, but when his eyes jump to mine, he looks mildly alarmed.
My first instinct is to quickly assure him he doesn’t have to say it back, but I keep my mouth shut, and I’m glad I do. Stopping myself from trying to lessen the impact of my words means I get to see his alarm dissipate naturally, pleasure warming up his beautiful brown-eyed gaze instead.
“Oh yeah?” he teases.
I nod my head, closing my eyes and hugging him a little tighter. “Yep.”