When we reached the darkened room, his fingers laced between mine again, the move possessive and intimate. I liked it way too much. We kissed for several minutes, standing in the center of my bedroom until I felt Braydon’s fingers find the button on my jeans. I wouldn’t stop him now. Couldn’t. My body wanted this.
I’m good.He and Lacey headed for the door. I spent one more moment with his sculpture. I ran my hand along the smooth surface. It felt surprisingly cold.
He texted me, Elliot said, and I jumped. I hadn’t realized he was still there.I turned around. Lacey was gone and just Elliot stood in the doorway facing me.What? I asked. Who?
Cooper. He asked if I’d seen you. Wanted to make sure you were okay.The words made me want to cry all over again. What did you say?
I haven’t answered yet. I won’t, if you don’t want me to.
Tell him I’m . . . What? Fine? Miserable? I didn’t want him to know that. Still in love with him? What was wrong with me? Nothing. Tell him nothing.That little pang of nerves in my stomach was back. He needed to stop flirting with me. I wasn’t interested. Sure, my body processed that he was sexy—he was a supermodel for goodness’ sake—but my brain wasn’t stupid enough to fall for his batting eyelashes and quips. I wasn’t going to be another notch on his belt. That’s not happening, I deadpanned.
Braydon chuckled, the low rasp sliding from his perfect lips. He was like one of those jock-types in high school who thought the V on his varsity jacket stood for vagina. He was a total player, I was sure of it. We’ll see, he said.I’m a bitch to you. Why do you even like me? I asked.
I don’t argue with my cock, sweetheart. And he seems to like you. In fact, he’d like to get to know you a lot better.Good Lord! He couldn’t say things like that to me. I wanted to tell him where to take his c**k and shove it, but I was afraid of what might come out of my mouth.