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Her brows twist together and confusion sparks in her golden-green gaze. “You’ve done all this stuff for me? The clothes, my favorite movies? The house and everything else? Why?”
“Because you matter. You’ve always mattered. All I’ve wanted for years is to make you happy.”
“How come I never knew how sweet you are?”
I grin sheepishly, knowingly. “Because you weren’t looking.”
“I told you I’m still not looking.”
“We’ll see. Now you go ahead and sit down. I’ll get a movie set up and we can have a nice, quiet night at home, just the two of us.”
“This isn’t my home,” she warns me.
“It could be. Give us a chance.”
Then I start the movie and instead of sitting in one of the other large chairs in the room, I lift her out of the one she’s in and sit down, settling her on my lap.
Her eyebrow lifts. “Really?”
“Just settle down and watch the movie.”
She shrugs but turns back to the screen. I actually love this romantic comedy with the two sexy stars. It’s funny and sweet all at the same time. Even the bad guy makes me laugh.
But tonight, I don’t pay attention to it at all. Instead, although I’ve turned out the lights, my gaze stays locked on her. She laughs and I feel the need to giggle at her happiness. She scowls and I want to push the guy off a cliff for upsetting her.
She holds her hand over her heart and tears well in her eyes when the man confesses his love to the woman he’s been in love with for years. And it’s those soft moments that give me hope. That tell me that she wants love. She’s just afraid to let herself go.
A single tear trickles down her cheek, sparkling in the dim light of the movie on the screen. I reach my finger out and catch it gently. Her eyes turn to me and I see the hunger there. The need to be loved. I see the same look in my own eyes every time I look in the mirror in the morning.
“Judas?” she whimpers.
I cup her cheek gently in my hand and she turns her head to kiss my palm. I gasp, feeling shooting heat coil under my skin where her lips touch my palm.
“Brandy?” I croak, feeling my heart blocking my throat.
She moves closer to me in the chair, her hands curling into my shirt, scraping along my pectoral muscles. Her mouth moves closer to mine and those hazel orbs darken to molten old gold. Glowing, heavy-lidded. So damn beautiful that she takes my breath away.
Her lips touch mine like a butterfly’s wings. Clinging and soft. Feathery light. Warm and wet and delicious.
My control snaps on the fragile thread holding it. “Fuck!” I slam my hand onto the back of her head and crush her mouth to mine, breathing in and sucking in the taste of her, the wanton lust washing over me in a tidal wave.
Her mouth meets mine, our tongues and teeth clash in a furious fight for dominance.
My girl’s no wilting flower. She’s a fighter. Even in love.
But I don’t let her win. My hands glide down her body, finding all the secret places she needs touched. She moans when my hands wrap around her full breasts, caressing the stiff peaks through the t-shirt until I give in and rip it off her.
She gasps and her wild, dark curls fly around her head and then settle on her bare shoulders. I tug at the silky white bra cups and yank them down, the delicate fabric ripping at the seams.
Her brow arches. “I like that bra.”
“I’ll buy you another forty like it.”
“Wasteful,” she grunts when my lips close around her stiff nipples. Lapping at them, I groan into her soft, squishy flesh.
“I love how soft and sexy you are, baby. There’s nothing harsh about you.”
“I believe you said I made that guy cry. Pretty sure that’s harsh.”
