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Everything goes still as I digest his words. I’m afraid that if I breathe, I’ll choke. The way he’s looking at me sends goose bumps down my spine and butterflies to my belly. The hazel of his irises gleams bright in the tungsten glow of the room, a conflicting mix of love, anguish, and immeasurable heat. They remind me of warm apple cider with a shot of bourbon.
We don’t speak.
We let the tension swirling around us fuel the flame.
But when I gather the courage to reach for his hand and sweep my thumb along his knuckles, I might as well have tossed a bucket of ice water over us.
Brant looks away.
He takes a step backward, and I drop my hand.
Rubbing a palm to the nape of his neck, a sigh of defeat falls from his lips as he closes his eyes. “That’s not what I meant to say,” he murmurs under his breath.
“Maybe it was what you wanted to say.”
Brant slowly lifts his eyes to mine, his hands fisted at his sides like he’s trying so hard not to touch me. His nostrils flare. “We have to stop, June. I can’t do this to you,” he says. “I think it’s for the best if you move out.”
No.
No, no, no.
“You won’t break me, Brant,” I insist. My feet inch forward, desperate to shatter his walls. Desperate to change his mind. “I’m not as fragile as you think I am.”
“That’s not what I’m afraid of.”
“What are you afraid of? Hurting me?”
“Worse.”
I frown, trying to read between the lines. “What’s worse than hurting me?”
He swallows, shaking his head a little, inhaling a troubled breath. Our eyes lock as he replies, “Ruining you.”
A gasp leaves me.
“I’m terrified of ruining you for the poor bastard who has the unfortunate burden of loving you after me, that when you finally let him kiss you all he’ll taste is my ashes. When he brings you to his bed, it’s my name you’ll scream. And that’s not fair. You deserve so much more than to live your life in the shadow of this…curse.”
My eyes water as my legs start to shake. Every word slices through my skin, detonating just beneath the surface until I’m burned out and broken down. A little cry spills out as I say in a strangled voice, “Brant…it’s too late.” I watch as his forehead wrinkles, his brows pulling into a frown. He waits for my next words, eager and anxious. “You’ve already ruined me.”
“Don’t…” His own eyes glisten with painful tears as he whips his head back and forth. “Don’t tell me that.”
“It’s the truth,” I confess. “I’ve always belonged to you. Always. I was still a virgin because I was waiting for a man who had the ability to even come close to the way you make me feel. Someone who could chase away my fears with a forehead kiss. Who could sing away my nightmares with a lullaby. Who was both my comfort and my courage, who held my heart in steadfast hands, and who looked at me like I was the most precious thing in this world.” I watch his tears fall as freely as my words. My heart pounds and aches as I step right up to him, clasping his hands in mine. He doesn’t pull away this time. He just stares at me with a tight jaw and wet cheeks. “But you see…he doesn’t exist. There is only you,” I say, squeezing his palms. Pulling him closer. “You ruined me the day you met me, Brant Elliott. I was born yours.”
His hands lash out, gripping me around the waist and yanking me to him before I can take my next breath. “Jesus, June,” he grits out. “You have no idea what you’re asking of me.” Bruising fingers dig into my hips as his face lowers to mine, our lips a centimeter apart. “Once I get a taste of what this could be, I won’t be able to stop.”
I arch into him, my palms rising to cup his cheeks. The heat from his body burns into me, making my skin flush. Turning any remaining sensible logic into kindling. “Good.”
“You’re going to regret this one day.” Brant drags his fingers up my spine, fisting them in my hair as he tugs my head back, towering over me, eyes blazing. “And that’s going to be such a damn tragedy.”
I cry out when his hot mouth steals mine and his tongue plunges past my teeth. He walks me backward until my calves meet the bed frame, our tongues twisting as we moan together. His T-shirt crinkles between my hands as I cling to him, one of my legs lifting to curl around his thigh.
He grabs it, holding me flush against him as he kisses me with fevered urgency. Then he lets me go, giving me a light shove until I collapse backward onto the mattress. Reaching behind his back, Brant gathers his shirt in one hand and pulls it up over his head, tossing it to the floor.
My eyes round at the sight of him: sleek and rigid, muscled and defined.
Strong arms that have kept me safe my whole life.
Broad shoulders that have carried my added weights.
