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“I swear.”
“What if she realizes she doesn’t want to be with you anymore? What if you change your mind?”
“That will never happen,” Brian growls. “My mind is made up. I’ve never been more certain about anything.”
“The same for me,” I tell Dad. “I swear too.”
Dad slowly stands, scratching at his cheek. “I need time to think. Maybe Janine’s right. It might be better if you both stayed at your place tonight, Brian.”
It’s so inappropriate, the tickles sizzling through me the second Dad says this. Alone, at Brian’s apartment…
“But you don’t hate us?”
“I could never hate you, either of you,” Dad says, “and knowing this is long-term, or you’d like it to be…”
“It changes things?” I say hopefully.
“I don’t know,” Dad says. “We’ll speak soon.”
When he leaves, I can’t stop myself from running over to Brian and collapsing into his arms. I think he might push me away for a second since Mom and Dad could walk back in here, but maybe he needs the closeness too. He holds me tightly, resting his lips against my head, his warm breath cascading over me.
“I could’ve thrown a tantrum at them for snooping,” I say, trying for a joke. “I could’ve made it all about that.”
“It was innocent enough. We were going to tell them anyway.”
“But not like this. With the notebooks…”
His arms tighten around me when I reference them. I need to mention them less since it freaks him out like I told Dad, but thank God, not enough to stop.
“We should go,” he says. “Give them time to cool off. Pack an overnight bag. I’ve got some business to take care of with the builders later, but we can spend the evening together. Maybe tomorrow, everything will be better.”
“Yeah,” I say doubtfully. “Maybe.”
Mom and Dad are in the bedroom when I go upstairs, talking in quiet, angry voices. I almost creep across to the door and lay my ear against it, but that would be more betrayal. Instead, I quickly pack a bag and go downstairs.
“Well, we’ve really ruined the tattoo there.”
He laughs grimly, remembering our long code word.
“Yeah, I’d say so, but maybe tomorrow…”
Brian takes my bag, making it look tiny in his large hand. As we walk across the street, he keeps his hands away from me, maybe knowing Mom or Dad might be watching.
“We need to be good tonight, don’t we?” I say once we’re in the car.
He stares at me from the driver’s seat. Every muscle seems to swell, like when he let out all that passion about our relationship.
“We should be,” he says, then starts the engine.
That word holds a lot of meaning. Should.
I clasp my hands tightly together, inappropriate thoughts steaming into my mind, so much more vivid than the childish dreams ever were. I’ve felt him now, tasted him, and sensed his hunger. No crush could compare with that.
After a minute of driving, I reach over and place my hand on his forearm to feel his strength and solid certainty. When he lets out a shuddering breath, I know I should tell him, Can we stay in separate rooms tonight? Or, seriously, Brian, I mean it. We can’t do anything before Mom and Dad give us their blessing.
I’ve imagined being with him too many times for that.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
Brian
I ride the elevator up to my apartment, closing my eyes and summoning the calm that served me well overseas or trying to. Goddamn, it’s difficult when I know Evie’s up there waiting for me.
When dealing with the builders, I could sometimes forget her or push her right to the edge of my mind. I was able to think about Roger and Janine instead, who still haven’t given us any word about their decision. Surely Roger knew how dangerous it was to send his daughter with me. He saw the passion in me. The hunger. The fire. Does he think I can resist her?
When I open my apartment door, I find Evie standing at the end of the hallway. My balls ache. My shaft almost hurts as it gets solid so quickly, filling with tension, my tip leaking hot precome.
She’s wearing one of my baggy T-shirts, the fabric falling just above her knees. Her braid is loose, her hair free and wild and beautiful down her back. She walks toward me slowly.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she says.
I stumble toward her, barely able to think.
“Did something happen to your clothes?” I ask, remembering she was the one who said we had to be good.
“Yes, I took them off.”
She’s smoothing her hands up my chest, toward my shoulders, circling them around me. She can’t know how wild this is driving me, my underwear sticking with all the precome, my balls so goddamn tight now that I’d bet they’ve actually turned blue.
“Why?” I say.
She smiles cutely. “Do you have to ask?”
