Then Shaw came around for a visit—sturdy cane in hand and accompanied by only one assistant this time. He introduced the man as Grant, the best physical therapist Shaw knew. An hour after they finished testing the strength of Brandon’s leg, both he and Shaw decided it was strong enough to endure the cane as long as Brandon promised not to take on stairs just yet.
I was happy that he was healing so quickly, but a part of me wondered if it meant he was going to send me home sooner. The proverbial clock felt like it was ticking inside my head, telling me that soon I’d be leaving and going back to my old life without him unless I actually did something about it.
The other constantly looming threat was the phone call from my mother. They’d been on vacation for three weeks and even though I hadn’t gotten an exact date of their return, I knew it was coming.
After Shaw and Grant left the house, I caught Brandon awkwardly hobbling around with the cane in his office, frowning down at his feet as if they had somehow betrayed him. The sight was almost comical until I noticed the tip of his tongue poking out from between his lips in concentration and I realized just how badly he wanted things to return to normal.
Whatever normal was for him, anyways.
“Hey, you.”
He paused mid-step and looked up, clearly surprised to see me. “Hey.”
“How’s it going?” I asked, gesturing to the cane.
“It’s painful, but manageable. I’m working on it,” he said firmly before stopping to lean his body weight against his desk. “I’m glad you stopped by. I wanted to ask if you’d like to eat dinner together tonight. Maybe watch a movie afterwards.”
“That sounds wonderful,” I agreed with a smile, hoping that I wasn’t coming off as desperate to spend time with him as I felt.
“Perfect. Is seven all right? I lost track of time when I started practicing and I’ve still got a little work to catch up on.”
“Seven works for me. Have fun,” I teased.
He rolled his eyes, but we both knew that he would enjoy himself. Maybe ‘fun’ wasn’t the right word for it, but Brandon had always loved his work. Something I always secretly envied about him.
But Brandon got his dream job by taking chances. Maybe if I had taken more chances in the past, my present would look a hell of a lot different.
Better late than never, I thought to myself as I took off in a mad dash to my bedroom to get ready for our unofficial date.
* * *
At seven o’clock on the dot, I was grinning from ear to ear as Brandon made his way into the kitchen with far more grace than I saw him walking with earlier in the day. After he gestured for me to take a seat at the bar and he moved to stand beside me, he confessed that he had continued to practice with the cane during a particularly boring conference call.
“So what’s for dinner?” I asked, glancing around the kitchen and finding nothing prepared on the counters. “Or are we making something?”
“I ordered pizza, I hope that’s all right. It should be here any minute.”
“You’re seriously having pizza delivered by boat,” I deadpanned, not even bothering to frame it like a question because I already knew he was serious.
That crooked smile of his was adorable, even with the way it tugged at the harsh scars.
“I’m leaving them an excellent tip.”
“I hope so,” I muttered, then held my hand out. “Give me the cash. This house is fucking huge and you’ll take all day getting to the door when the bell rings.”
Brandon pouted. “I resent that.”
“I’m not saying that you haven’t improved, but the least I can do is run for the door since you’re buying. Let me do something for you.”
“You say that like you don’t already do enough for me,” he whispered, his eyes flickering between mine as he watched for a reaction.
“I meant something other than my nursing duties.”
“I know what you meant.”
We leaned in towards one other and I hastily moistened my lips with my tongue, noting the way his eyes tracked the movement like a hawk. I also noted the harsh bob of his throat before he looked back into my eyes.
And just as our lips were mere inches apart—the damn doorbell rang. The abrupt noise startled us both and I hopped off the barstool, hastily putting a few feet of distance between us. He dug in his pocket for the cash and passed it to me without a word and I immediately took off running for the front door.
Just as I expected, the man waiting at the door with the pizza looked less than amused by the fact that he had just ridden over here by fucking boat, but his eyes brightened when I handed him the wad of money and requested no change back. I chuckled to myself as he walked away, happily flipping through the crisp stack of twenties.
Once I closed and locked the door, I made my way back to the kitchen and placed the box on the counter beside Brandon, flipping open the top and making a happy sound of surprise when I saw that the entire pie was covered in pineapple.
“You remembered!” I practically shouted, my giddiness spurring me to spin towards him and wrap my arms tentatively around his shoulders. “Thank you so much.”
He kept one hand braced on the counter to support his weight, but curled the other around my back and caressed me gently. I felt my breath catch and tilted my head down, burying my face against his shoulder while I simply enjoyed the feeling of hugging him again. I felt him tip his head to the side to press a light kiss to my hair and my heart felt like it was liable to beat right out of my chest.
Needing to get a little distance between us before I jumped him right there, I pulled away and took a step back. I smiled at him as I asked, “What about you though? You never liked pineapple.”
Brandon shrugged, his smile completely unconcerned. “I’ll pick it off.”
I carried both of our plates to the living room, setting them down on the coffee table before I scurried around looking for the television remote. Before he had a chance to say otherwise, I demanded that he choose the movie this time.
He rolled his eyes, but opted not to argue with me, instead flicking through the channels until he hit something I vaguely recalled seeing before—an action movie from the seventies that I couldn’t remember the title of. It was something I had watched with my dad long before he and my mom split.
I settled back to enjoy my pizza and watch the movie, but Brandon’s wandering eyes were a hell of a distraction. I couldn’t concentrate on the plot no matter how hard I tried, so when I finally finished eating, I wiped my hands on a napkin before boldly sliding over to his side of the couch and cuddling up beside him.
Brandon stiffened for a brief moment before relaxing again. This was something we’d done many times years ago, only now when his arm moved to drape across my shoulders, I was struck by how strong he had gotten. The scrawny kid I knew in high school was long gone.
“This is nice,” I commented, pausing for a brief moment to see if he’d agree. When he didn’t say anything, I pressed on, “I like snuggling with you. Always have.”
There was still no verbal response, but I could hear his breathing hitch before it blew back out with a long sigh. I waited again, then pressed my body more firmly into his side. I wasn’t foolish enough to expect Brandon to make the first move, but I thought that by now he would’ve realized that I was making the first move and respond in kind.
Guess I’ll have to make the second move as well.
“Can you lie down comfortably?” I asked, keeping my voice as innocent as possible.
“On my good side, yeah,” he confirmed, his voice tight.
“Can we spread out? My back is going to get sore sitting like this.”
He seemed uncertain, but eventually let out a long sigh and nodded his consent. I shot off the couch to give him space to rearrange himself, never letting my eyes stray from him as he twisted to better angle himself on his good side then lied down, pressing his back against the soft cushion of the couch. When he was settled, I put a kn
ee up on the couch and looked down at him with what I hoped was an encouraging smile.
“You sure this is okay?”
“Yeah. Just—Can you get me a pillow?”
“Sure,” I agreed, rushing over to the recliner and grabbing one of the pillows I had discarded when we first sat down to eat.
After he shoved it under his head, I didn’t bother to wait for an invitation to join him. I knew better than to even expect it. After all, this wasn’t the first move I was making on him, it was the second. Or maybe it was the third or fourth. I hadn’t really been keeping count.
All I knew was that I wanted him and tonight felt like a good night to bring it up. I wanted to tell him how I felt and hopefully hear it returned. I had my doubts that he still harbored any deep feelings for me, but I could tell that there was something there. And that was all I really needed.
So when I got comfortable beside him, I reached back and gently pulled his arm around my waist. His fist stayed pressed to the couch and I nearly groaned in frustration, but instead I kept trying to push him forward by placing his closed hand on my navel and running my fingertips over his knuckles. After a few moments, his hand relaxed and his fingers splayed open over my stomach.
One step closer, I thought to myself with a smile. I couldn’t see his face from my angle, but I imagined it was an uncertain look of confusion. Every now and then I would feel his fingers twitch like he wanted to move them against me, but his tightly-leashed control kept him still.
Halfway through the movie, I decided my best bet would be to continue to push against his self-control. There really wasn’t any other way. Brandon just would not take the hint.
This time, I seriously upped my game. We had laid together like this quite often as teenagers, but we always kept our cuddling sessions to a PG rating. Handholding was probably our worse offense back in those days.
But we were adults now. So I mimed a full-body stretch then squirmed backwards until my entire back was pressed solidly against his front.
And my god, what a front it was. But the hard planes of chest and abs that I could feel twitching as he tensed up were nothing compared to when I purposely arched my ass back and pressed myself firmly against the hard length that was straining against his slacks. His surprised grunt blew a warm breath against my ear and sent a shiver racing up my spine.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed out as he tried to push himself further back against the couch to either give me space or escape, I wasn’t entirely sure which. “I-I didn’t mean to—”
“Brandon,” I firmly interrupted, twisting my arm back to lock around his neck and pull him forward. “Don’t apologize. Relax.”
I gave him credit for trying, but I could tell that he was still freaked out. He seemed to stop trying to crawl up the back of the couch and allowed his body to ease back down to the cushions only for me to mold my body to his again. This time, he groaned.
“What are you trying to do?”
“Snuggle with you,” I whispered back. “Don’t be embarrassed about... that. I like it.”
I illustrated my point by rolling my hips again, pressing myself against his erection and nearly moaning at the feel of having it so close to where I needed it. Brandon’s hand left my navel to grip my hip in a tight grasp and to my ultimate surprise—pull me back against him while he ground his hips forward.
“Fuck. Turn over,” he panted.
I didn’t waste any time untangling myself from his hold and flipping over to face him. I shoved away the instinct to lock my leg over his hip and grind myself against him—knowing that I’d likely only hurt his still-healing wound if I even attempted such a move. Instead, I craned my neck and began to kiss him while I let one hand drift slowly drift down his chest.
There wasn’t anything slow or sweet about the way our lips clashed together, but I could feel the emotions rolling off of him in waves. Anger, frustration, longing, love; everything he ever felt for me all pouring out in the way he moved his lips harshly against mine while simultaneously holding me against him with a trembling arm.
I did everything in my power to let him feel how much I wanted him and how I felt about him, but the pace he set was bruising and keeping up with him was no easy feat. But the kiss came to an abrupt halt when my hand finally made its way down to the front of his pants and I lightly trailed my fingers over his hardness. He pulled his lips away to stare at me with confusion, letting go of my hip to pull my hand off of him.
“Jesus, what the hell are we doing?” he asked, his lust-blown eyes going wide with panic. “I... I can’t do this. Get up.”
I frowned as I sat up and gave him enough space to do the same, but refused to give up just yet. I crossed my arms over my chest and stared him down, waiting for the explanation that I felt he owed me. But he seemed to be thinking the exact same thing.
“Where is this coming from?” he asked me heatedly, accusation heavy in his eyes. “You didn’t want me before my face was fucked up so if it’s money you’re after, you can—”
I clenched my teeth together and raised my hand, but stopped myself just short of slapping him. He immediately recognized what I had nearly done and zipped his lips shut, sitting back and narrowing his eyes at me.
“Don’t you fucking dare imply that I would use you like that. Things are different now, Brandon. Like you said when I first got here, I really don’t know you any more than you know me. I’m different,” I ranted, angered beyond belief that he seriously thought I would use him. But I forced my voice to soften as I said, “And for the record, I did want you back then. I was just... I thought it was wrong to want to be with my stepbrother. Even though all my reasoning seems pretty ridiculous now.”
Brandon was silent for a long time, just staring at my face while looking for any sign of deception. I waited patiently— allowing him to look for as long as he wanted because I knew he wouldn’t find anything. I hadn’t said a damn thing that wasn’t completely true.
When he finally moved again, it was to run a hand through his hair and let out a shaky breath.
“I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t do that.”
“Especially not to you. I care about you a lot more than you know. I always have.”
“I care about you, too,” he whispered. “Which is what makes this so difficult.”
There was something he wasn’t telling me, something important. I could sense it hovering right beneath the surface and my gut told me that it would explain more than his actions certainly did. I just needed him to tell me what it was.
“I don’t follow. Makes what difficult?”
His blue eyes flickered up to meet mine, his cheeks flaming red. “Intimacy. Not just with you. It’s... It’s just intimacy as a whole.”
“Meaning….?” I trailed off, waiting for him to fill in the blanks.
Brandon let out a tired sigh. “Remember when I told you that I never got used to talking to women? Well... it’s not just talking that I never got accustomed to.”
“What about your ex-girlfriend?” I prodded, hating to bring her up again after how he reacted last time, but feeling like I had no other choice. “Didn’t you and she ever... you know, fool around?”
Brandon laughed and at first, I thought it was at my choice of phrasing. Then I recognized the bitterness and regret lurking behind it. The sound was nothing short of miserable and my heart broke for him even though I still didn’t understand what was going on.
“I still can’t believe you bought that. There was no girlfriend. There was never a girlfriend. I just needed an excuse to put a stop to what was happening between us because I was fucking terrified.”
That’s when it clicked. The truth of what the real problem was—even with as difficult as it was to believe—had been sitting right in front of my face the entire time. The blushes, the inability to recognize flirting, the awkwardness, his refusal to make the first move. It suddenly made so much sense.
“You’re... Are you telling me that you’re a virgin?�
�� I asked for confirmation, unable to hide the bewilderment in my tone.
Brandon’s face was nothing short of mortified, but his voice was dark when he said, “Yeah. I’m almost thirty fucking years old… and I’ve never been with a woman.”
Even though I knew deep down that it was true and he just admitted it to my face, a small part of me still couldn’t wrap my head around the idea.
“Just... don’t take this the wrong way, but how? I mean, I get that you wouldn’t have had a chance to get any since you’ve been so isolated since the accident, but what about before that? You were a catch. How did—”
“I was fucking busy,” he spat out, sliding down the couch and reaching for his cane.
As he stood up, I frantically searched my mind for my mistake and caught it nearly immediately.
“Brandon, I didn’t mean—You’re still a catch—I just—”
“Please just stop,” he mumbled, not bothering to turn back to look at me. “Just... stop. I’m going to call it an early night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Brandon, please,” I begged, running around to stand in front of him and block his path. “Please don’t freeze me out. You have to know I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I’m just shocked. I’m so sorry.”
He looked up and while the sadness in his eyes was expertly hidden behind the anger, I could still see it. He had already embarrassed himself by telling me the truth and my poor choice of words had only served to cut him even deeper. I wished I could rewind back and fix it, but I couldn’t do that and Brandon’s pride was a little too bruised to move past it so easily.
“I know you didn’t mean it like that. But I’m still tired. Good night, Vanessa.”
When he began his slow walk past me, I let him go. I stared blankly at the movie still playing on screen while listening to his receding footsteps, waiting until I couldn’t hear them anymore before approaching the couch and switching the television off.
Wrecked: A Stepbrother Romance Novel Page 11