Be My Always: A BWWM Romance (Make It Marriage Book 1)

by Nia Arthurs

  Kayla slants me a defiant look.

  Heat slices through my body.

  A kind of slow, languorous desire.

  I grab onto that feeling.

  Hone in.

  That’s it.

  Focus on the physical.

  My life’s a total and utter crap-storm right now.

  I don’t have the time for distractions.

  And I definitely don’t have time for anything close to love.

  But one night to take the edge off?

  Yeah, maybe I can settle for that.

  Fourteen

  Kayla

  It feels weird trekking through Brendon’s massive home.

  Every slap of my slippers against the tiles bounces loudly against the vaulted ceiling. A large, mahogany staircase winds to the second floor.

  I play with the hem of my T-shirt, feeling totally under-dressed. Brendon’s place is more like a museum compared to the cozy and chaotic home I grew up in. Everything’s expensive.

  And cold.

  My trembling fingers wrap around my elbow.

  The movement catches Brendon’s attention. Behind his square glasses, his screaming silver eyes meet mine. There’s mischief in his expression. A wolfish grin on his lips.

  The invitation to his house was a thinly veiled invite to his bed.

  Or an obvious one.

  I’m a mouse caught in his trap.

  He’ll play with me or devour me…

  I shouldn’t have accepted this invitation. I should have stuck with Chandra’s couch. Glued my butt to that sofa. At least there, I’d be free from his smoldering gazes and my body’s traitorous response.

  I shake my head and take a step back. Can’t remember the last time I felt this out of sorts. Even on my worst no freaking way is this happening days, I coil my anxiety into a ball. Stuff it to the farthest corner of my mind. Focus on what I can handle. What I can control.

  Right now, those restraints are snapping.

  Whirring.

  Out of control.

  I’m a spinning top.

  My gaze breaks away from Brendon and land on Ariya. She’s strolling on auto-pilot, completely at home in this palace of extravagance. Her tiny feet pad against the floor, heading up the stairs as she rubs her eyes.

  Noooo. Come back.

  Ariya’s my buffer.

  If she’s gone…

  If I’m alone with Brendon…

  Touching him is a given. I owe him one night.

  My heart thuds like crazy when I think about him collecting that debt.

  Maybe I’m overthinking things. Maybe it can still mean nothing.

  But I doubt that.

  If I can’t manage to keep my eyes off him for one second, if my pulse is thrumming like crazy at just the thought of him throwing me on any bed in this monstrous house… it’s something.

  Mercy. It’s been such a long day. Who’s to say that I won’t go crazy and attack him first?

  I shake my head and take deep calming breaths.

  “Night, Ari,” Brendon calls after his sister.

  She simply wafts her hand in the air as reply.

  “Is she going to bed?”

  “Yeah, it’s past her bedtime. Although she won’t admit that she has one.” He flashes an affectionate grin.

  My heart flips.

  I always tell my female clients to observe their matches closely. To watch the way they treat the women in their lives—from coworkers to waitresses in restaurants to their mothers and sisters.

  If they can’t respect their own blood, how the heck will they respect you?

  Brendon’s passing that particular test with flying colors.

  I love the way he adores his sister.

  Even if she is a little spoiled because of it.

  Not that it matters.

  I’m not looking at Brendon as a potential match.

  He’s just a man I’m using for a time.

  The less I care about him, the better.

  A low, growly sound rumbles in the air.

  It’s coming from Brendon’s stomach.

  I arch an eyebrow, glad to focus on something other than my confusing thoughts. “You hungry?”

  “Haven’t eaten all day.”

  Shaking off my nerves, I move confidently to the kitchen. It’s a dream. Something out of a Good Home Cooking magazine. Stainless steel appliances. Glossy island. Premium pots hanging from wooden pegs.

  Gorgeous.

  I try not to drool as I open the state-of-the-art fridge. “I’ll make you something.”

  “You cook?”

  A wrinkle furrows my brow. The freezer is stuffed with re-heatable, pre-prepared meals. “Occasionally.”

  “Wow.”

  I traipse over to the cupboard. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

  “Didn’t take you for the type.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I haul the cupboard door open and frown when I see a handful of canned foods. Whipping around, I send Brendon a dubious look. “Where’s the fresh food?”

  “It’s in the freezer.”

  I purse my lips together. “That’s not fresh, Brendon.”

  “TV dinners spoil if left out too long. It counts.” He sticks his chin in his hand and rests his elbow on the island counter.

  I roll my eyes. “Still, you should have fruits. Watermelon. Apples. Have you heard of a balanced diet?”

  “Those trays are gourmet.”

  “Oh my g—I can’t do anything with this.” I throw my hands up. “It’s your kitchen. I won’t judge.”

  “You’re doing a great job of that.”

  I lean against the counter. Right across from him. Press my arms into the cold surface. Ease forward.

  Brendon’s gaze flits to my chest before it returns to my face.

  “Feed me,” I demand.

  A corner of his lips quirk up. “You’re bossy when you’re hungry.”

  “Not just when I’m hungry.”

  “What do you want?”

  My eyes dart to his lips. You. “Pasta.”

  “What kind?”

  “Surprise me.”

  He keeps his eyes on me as he grabs his cell phone and makes the call. I inch back, overwhelmed by the intensity in his stare. Turning away, I grab a glass from the counter and pour myself a cup of water.

  The daring side of me is clamoring to get out. Eager to make a move.

  The chains of my past are loosening.

  For one night.

  That’s all I wanted at the start.

  I was desperate for that escape and that need hasn’t gone away.

  Brendon hangs up. The sleeves of his shirt fall against his lean, defined arms as he stretches. “It’ll take thirty minutes.”

  “It’s a long wait.”

  “I can think of a few ways to keep you entertained.”

  Oh yes he can.

  I can come up with a couple myself.

  Excitement stirs my stomach.

  This is Brendon freaking Humes.

  That look in his eyes…

  Before I knew who he was, I was overwhelmed by him and now?

  It still doesn’t make sense.

  But that doesn’t matter.

  Knowing that we’re from two different worlds, that we function in two different leagues, will keep my heart in check. Keep it tame. In its place.

  There will be no Cinderella story here.

  I’m not looking for a prince to rescue me.

  Just one who’ll take me to bed.

  “I thought you hadn’t eaten all day?” I arch an eyebrow.

  “Are you questioning my stamina?”

  “Consider it a valid concern.”

  He straightens. Sets his cell phone down. “I have no choice but to prove you wrong.”

  “You said you were hungry.”

  “We can start with dessert.”

  I laugh softly. “No one talks like that.”

  He rounds the counter. Long, loping strides
. His slender fingers wrap around the glass, slightly covering mine. Electricity skitters where he touches me.

  Brendon takes the glass cup away and sets it near the sink. He takes both of my arms and winds them around his neck. “You said you had rules.”

  I did.

  But my heart’s beating so loud and fast I can’t remember any.

  Brendon lowers his head. Kisses me softly.

  Any hope of coherent thought is dashed.

  I try to string a few words together anyway. “Just one night.”

  His hands move to the straps of my tank-top. He rubs the slinky material between his fingers. “Mm-hm.”

  “I’m not…” Shoot. Just his thumb swirling on my shoulder feels so good. Testifies to what he can do somewhere more sensitive.

  “Yes?”

  “We’re… um… mutual friends. We have them. I mean.” Get it together, Kayla. “We’ll probably see each other often. I don’t want it to be awkward.”

  “Me either,” he breathes. Slides his hands under my shirt.

  Pleasure skitters up my spine.

  Words.

  I need words.

  Preferably English.

  A soft moan works its way through my lips. “I’m not… um… looking for a relationship. I’m assuming you aren’t either.”

  “A lot’s going on.” Something dark passes through his eyes. A grey cloud. A rainstorm. I recall Ariya’s whimpered plea about their mom and if he’d found her yet.

  Then he blinks and it’s gone.

  Back to seductive silver.

  “Is that all?” His fingers leave my shirt. They brush my straps off. Warm cotton flaps against my elbow. Reveals a hint of my bra.

  I’m shaking.

  Everything but this moment ceases to hold any importance.

  Why isn’t he kissing me?

  What are we talking about again?

  His hands brace my hip.

  He pulls me close.

  My eyelids press together.

  My stomach flutters.

  “I expected more.”

  More what?

  Oh, right. Rules.

  “I’m full of surprises.” To hammer in the point, I gingerly grip the handles of his glasses. Tug. Slip them off his face.

  In slow, measured movements, I fold the handles and set them on the counter.

  Brendon’s eyes are dark as he watches me, his irises more black than silver.

  Tingles race up my spine.

  My heart pounding like crazy, I reach up.

  Cup his face.

  And kiss him.

  Properly.

  Hungrily.

  He tastes so good. Like mint. Crisp. Smooth. It’s been so long since I’ve savored someone’s lips. Since I’ve felt the heat of lust barrel through my body.

  I drop one hand to his T-shirt. Graze the rigidness of his torso. Knot the other hand in the nape of his neck, diving my fingers through his thick black hair.

  Our tongues swirl together.

  A collision of mutual desire.

  Near painful need.

  Closer.

  Closer.

  Brendon steps back.

  I stare into his silver eyes, crushed beneath the weight of my own delirious lust.

  This is intense.

  Good-intense.

  Crazy.

  My shirt is scrunching to my waist.

  My toes are curling in my slippers.

  I want him so badly.

  It’s almost painful.

  Brendon runs a hand through his messy hair.

  In his eyes, I see the same desperation mounting in my chest.

  All the build-up.

  All the tension.

  It culminates into two words. “Bedroom. Now.”

  Fifteen

  Brendon

  Kayla’s body stretches beneath me. Her lips are pinned together in an attempt to keep the noise down so we don’t wake Ariya, but if the last twenty minutes have shown me anything, it’s that neither of us are very good at that game.

  Kayla’s nails scratch at my back. Her thighs press against me.

  I crush my lips to hers.

  She kisses back aggressively.

  Like she’s damn addicted to my taste. To my body.

  The way I’m obsessed with hers.

  Her pleasure.

  Her little moans.

  Every hot, gasping noise she makes when I…

  There.

  She’s not quiet.

  I bury my face in her shoulder to smother both our groans.

  Adrenaline courses through my veins faster than the sweat running over my skin.

  Being with her is more satisfying than I’d ever imagined.

  Better than any other encounter I’ve had.

  It’s whipping up intense desires.

  The kind that have very little to do with working her body and more to do with claiming her heart.

  One night?

  Hell if that’ll be enough.

  I don’t want her to leave.

  Ever.

  I want her in my bed for eternity.

  I want those gorgeous thighs parting for me and only me.

  I want to be the name that rides the muffled screams soaring out of those plump, bee-stung lips.

  The one unwinding her. Over and over again until she’s limp like putty.

  Until the stick up her pear-shaped behind dissolves.

  Damn. I want it.

  But she has rules.

  And I have commitments.

  Slowly, I peel my body away. Her soft hips are melted against the mattress, her eyes closed as she basks in the afterglow. Golden brown skin catches a hint of the lamp. Brown lips shoot trembling breaths past her teeth.

  My eyes slide lazily over her.

  Have I mentioned how perfect she is?

  Every little inch of Kayla is soft and feminine and... what is it?

  Supple.

  Given how rigid she is in public, I didn’t expect her to be so responsive.

  It was different.

  She’s different.

  It’s just sex. Don’t get carried away. It doesn’t mean anything.

  Even as the thoughts rush through my mind, I reject them.

  Bull.

  This is too intimate. Too… intense.

  I’ve skipped the small spark and gone off the freaking deep end to the wild forest fire.

  It’s always too much when it comes to Kayla.

  Just looking at her that first night, something in my body—no, in my soul—got hooked. What happened tonight solidified the connection.

  Made it worse.

  Made me insatiable.

  I struggle to get control of my breath and my thoughts.

  Best not to overthink it.

  The mattress dips as I slide off and take care of the condom.

  When I return, Kayla is lying on her side, her head propped up on her elbow. Her hair’s no longer in a bun and it cascades over her shoulder, spilling black on top of the crisp white pillow.

  Her dark eyes are soft.

  That means a lot to me.

  That trust.

  It’s clear that she feels safe here. With me.

  Even if that comfort is tinged with a little bit of shyness and uncertainty.

  She senses it too.

  That more that’s pulsing between us.

  Her eyes give her away.

  I sit next to her and run my finger down her cheek. Brush a lock of hair behind her ear. “The food’s here. Let’s grab a bite and then go for round two.”

  “Round two?” Slender eyebrows hike.

  “You promised me the night. And it’s not over yet.”

  Her soft laughter is like music. Like the easy, lilting cadence of the ocean. “I see why you’re so successful. You know how to leverage a deal.”

  “In business and pleasure.” I wink. Resist the urge to kiss her again.

  I’m at my peak, but I still need a few minutes to recover.

&nbs
p; And I’m starving.

  If I touch her, my body will drag me along whether I like it or not and then my stomach will start a riot.

  The doorbell rings.

  A warning to keep my hands to myself.

  “Right on time.”

  Kayla scoots toward the edge of the bed. Her legs are long, but not as long as mine, so her slender feet still hover above the floor.

  “Should I—”

  “I’ll get it.” I stop her with a hand. “Wait here.”

  Kayla doesn’t listen.

  After I grab the food from the delivery guy and head back, I find her grabbing silverware in the kitchen.

  My feet freeze.

  She’s wearing my shirt.

  My white button-down is longer in the back so it hits low on her thighs. She swings around and the view from the front just about floors me.

  The top three buttons are undone, hinting at the cleavage my hands and lips explored eagerly. With her hair falling freely over her shoulder, she looks like a dream come to life.

  Normally, the cliché ‘woman in my shirt’ thing annoys me.

  It’s unnecessary.

  I don’t like people touching my things.

  But Kayla?

  She can have every stitch of clothing in my closet as long as she promises to wear it for me.

  “Hey.” She notices me standing like a fool in the foyer and smiles.

  Damn. That smile.

  It’s so freaking pretty.

  Everything about her is sexy and sensual, but that smile is straight up reach her eyes and make them sparkle innocent.

  All her walls are down.

  It’s glorious.

  My fingers tighten on the plastic bag handles.

  “Brendon?”

  I move forward and deposit the food on the table. As she unloads the canisters, the fragrance fills the air.

  Kayla releases a tortured moan. “That smells so good.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s decadent.” She cracks open the top with a pop. Releases another moan.

  “Calm down, woman. You’re about to make me jealous.”

  Her eyes whip up to me. “Am I making too much noise?” They travel to the staircase and then to the shirt she’s wearing. She lowers her voice. “I don’t want to wake up Ariya.”

  “Don’t worry about that.” I shake my head. Capture her wrist. “And I like your noises.”

  She blushes.

  Hard.

  I love to see it.

  Memories of hovering over her, watching that red flush spread each time I whispered something in her ear makes me smirk.