Page 52 of Bared

Jayd canted her head to the side while pushing a half smile to her lips. She slid her hand around until her palm spanned his broad jaw. Though her fingers still looked tiny next to his face, she set aside her awe in favor of dishing out a much-needed reality check.

“Firstly, my brothers are technically not that anymore. And secondly, even if they were, they would have every right to love me, not dictate to me. Not a one of them would even want that right. It would go against all the archaic doctrines they are fighting to change in Arcadia.”

At first, Brick only reacted by shifting his hands down from her hips and onto the counter. Though nothing changed about his physical proximity, Jayd felt like it did. He seemed bigger now, if that was possible. More capable of surrounding her senses and consuming her every thought. Of scaring her in that deliciously amazing way…

“Is that another reason why you ran away?”

Or petrifying her in this whole new way.

“How does that matter now?”

She openly squirmed. Brick clamped her hips again, holding her still.

“It matters.” He said it—and obviously meant it—as an order. “Number one, because I say it does. Number two, and most importantly, because it tells me a lot about who you are as a human and as a woman.”

“One silly detail like that?”

“You think that’s silly?” Brickham countered. “The fact that you were so concerned about your brothers, with the Pura forcing them to choose between your betrothal or their exposure, that you sneaked away to a foreign land on your own?”

“I was not exactly sacrificing a tenable situation,” Jayd rebutted. “Evrest would have lost his throne one way or his sister’s dignity the other. The only way out was for me to get out.”

“So you did what you had to.”

“I did what was best for everyone.”

Brickham nodded, seeming to accept and agree with her claim, but Jayd did not surrender her pensive pout. What did anything about her tale have to do with anything between them now?

“You’re a remarkable woman, Jayd Cimarron.”

It was definitely nicer to hear him say that, but she was still flummoxed.

“But if you feel like this is also something you have to do…”

He only got that far before Jayd spewed with a chest-deep laugh. Just as quickly, she sobered. “What kind of females have you deflowered in the past that you feel you must say that?”

The cavalier approach did not fix things as easily as she wanted. “Females…I’ve deflowered?” Brickham’s lips were stunning even when he twisted them—but not when he scowled on top of it. “Wait. Shit,” he blurted.

“What?” she demanded. “What’s wrong?”

“Damn it.” He scraped a rough hand over his scalp. “So you are a—”

“Virgin?” She huffed as soon as he stalled. “Oh, Creator’s toes. You can say it, Brickham. I just did. It is not a naughty word. I know what it means, and I know what I am doing here with it. What I am doing with my body and the free decisions I can still have about it.”

His glower tightened. “Saying a couple of syllables is one thing, Pixie. Altering what the term means in your life—forever—is different.”

“And I understand that too. But I am the exact same person as I was a couple of minutes ago, when you were growling such perfect things about your intentions for me. Has your hunger for me changed that much? Does a thin membrane change all that?”

He growl-groaned. “Some—many—say that it does.”

“And are any of them standing before you, entrusting you with all of it?” She spread her hands across the steel plates in his chest that pretended to be pectorals. “I am telling you that I want this, Brickham. More vitally, that I want it with you. That I have waited such a long time to do this because I wanted someone who would make it extraordinary. A memory to cherish for the rest of my life.”

To her relief, the man’s smile returned. Not as glorious as before, but it was a start. “Nothing like laying a little pressure on a guy, sweetheart.”

Jayd cocked her head. “Would you rather say no, then? The consent extends both directions here, right? And I will not take it personally if this is difficult for you. Just do not expect me to pine for you if Trystan Carris finds me and decides he will be the first fork in my fruit.”

She was poking the bear. She knew it before she finished her thought, but maybe that was what was needed to get through to the stubborn giant and his sudden attack of nobility.

She was so sick of nobility. She had eaten, drank, breathed it, and been it for twenty-four damn years.