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Irritated, Brandon rakes his fingers through his hair and levels me with his piercing gaze. “I have no explanation for that.”
Arousal escalates beneath my skin in the form of liquid heat. I struggle to suppress it, but it’s rather hard.
Why does this guy turn me on?
I carry my eyes over his features and admire his chiseled jaw, refined nose, and thin lips.
Though mostly scowling, Brandon is so undoubtedly handsome. It’s as if a higher power molded him into perfection and placed him on earth to drive girls like me mad.
“You know, I can understand the no touching issue, but why do you react so cruelly?” I shake my head in wonder. “I heard you dislocated a guy’s shoulder.”
“I’ve done more.” Regret crosses his features. “Sometimes, people trigger the monster in me, and I have no control over it. So, what do you think happens when the monster comes out? It hurts people.”
That analogy stirs a sad feeling in my chest. No hesitation, I ask, “How did the monster get in there, to begin with?”
Brandon pinches his thick brows, eyes narrowing. “What matters is what draws him out. Refusing my offer to make sure you reach home safely is pissing him off. Get in the car, little artist.”
His dark demeanor stirs tingles where it shouldn’t.
I clear the tightness in my throat and locate my voice, grumbling, “Fine.”
He sputters a mocking smirk and gestures to the passenger side.
I concede, stepping past him.
Brandon slides in behind the wheel soon after, driving at the speed limit towards West Heights.
The entire ride, I keep thinking about how he was probably waiting for me, and how he ordered that I stay away from Heath. That’s no problem, considering the dickhead only wants to experiment with a black girl.
“A thousand fucking dollars,” I murmur, only to cringe when I realize I said it out loud.
“What’s that?” Brandon demands.
I look at him as I say dryly, “It’s the price of something.” My worth to the rich boys of Charleston. I can’t believe those assholes were placing bets.
Brandon comes to a stop on the side street like last time.
“Thanks. See you Monday.” I turn to open the door.
“Aren’t you going to offer me something to drink?”
I sputter a short laugh in dismay. “As if. You are not coming into my home.”
“What do you think will happen? It’s not like I’ll touch you.” Well, that feels like a bitch slap. “Invite me into your real home. Don’t lie again.”
“Look, regardless of your issue with contact, I don’t trust you.”
Brandon shuts off the engine. “I’ll hide and follow you when you leave this fake address.”
“Geez.” Amazed, I stare at him with wide eyes. “Fine. Thank you for taking me home, Brandon. Would you like to come in for something to drink?”
I make out the smug half-smile in the shadowy car. “That’s kind of you, little artist. I’m parched.”
“Wait a sec.” I get out and walk around the curb to check for my dad’s car. It’s not on the driveway. The house is dark.
I return to Brandon and motion for him to follow me. He paces behind, causing warmth all over my body as we stride to my family’s bungalow and enter through the kitchen door.
Flipping the light on, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and hand it to Brandon. He drinks a little then observes the small kitchen and the table.
