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Fuck me.
His lower lip pushes slightly forward in a little pout and I can’t help the feeling of complete adoration that floods me.
He’s so goddamn cute for an asshole.
“Won’t happen again, baby.” I cup his nape and crash my lips to his.
Bran gasps and I swallow the sound the fuck up. My tongue pushes past his teeth, only to be met by his eager one. A growl spills from me as he clenches his fingers in my hair and switches us around so that my back hits the counter and he’s the one crowding me, breathing the intense, angry passion through me.
Our mouths war as I flip him again, forcing him to gobble down the taste of my aggression that only he can tame.
God-fucking-damn-it. I missed him.
I want the madness, the pressure, the war. I want all of himinme. Bleeding inside me. Breaking apartforme.
“Don’t ever do that again.” He pants against my lips, his fingers pulling on my hair until it’s painful. “Don’t you fucking dare walk away from me or ghost me. I don’t give a fuck if you’re on a high or a murder spree. I couldn’t care less if you hurt me. You don’t come to me when you’re only okay, you come to me at all times. Am I fucking understood?”
I lick his bottom lip then bite down. “You don’t hide from me, either. I want you raw. Am I fucking clear?”
His hot breath whooshes out in harsh pants against my mouth. “What if you don’t like what you see?”
“Not sure if you noticed it, but I like everything about you—your control-freak tendencies and nagging included.”
I’m about to seal that with another kiss when I register commotion behind me.
While I don’t usually stop when there’s an audience, this isn’t just anyone. It’s my Bran.
It takes me a godly amount of effort to release him and step back.
Bran looks at me with unconcealed disappointment as he’s forced to let me go. I quickly wipe his mouth with the sleeve of my jacket, but I’m afraid nothing can hide his swollen lips.
Or mine.
Christ.
I’m thinking of the best way to deal with that, but it’s too late.
Bran’s eyes grow in size as an older male voice booms in the air. “Morning, Princess.”
“More like night,” a feminine voice says, followed by a yawn.
I turn around so that I’m standing beside Bran as I watch an older version of him with blond hair wrapping an arm around the waist of a smaller woman who creepily resembles Glyn.
He smiles at her as they walk to the kitchen. “Son, are you up—”
His voice is cut off when he lifts his head and notices me standing beside his son.
When I took the first flight from the States, I hadn’t had much sleep. My only thought was to get Bran back, so don’t expect me to have had the foresight to realize I’d actually see his parents.
And judging by his father’s hardening features, I would say it’s not going well.
An idea pops into my head and I’m actually goddamn proud of how quick-witted I am.
“Hi, good morning,” I say with my most welcoming smile that I only show my parents. “I’m Bran’s friend from school.”
His mom smiles. “Are you, by any chance, Nikolai?”
I steal a glance at Bran. Did hementionme?
