Page 49 of The Spark Between Us

“Because. I’m the wrong guy for you.”

“Isn’t that my decision to make?” My anger started to build all over again. It felt like a polite way of saying I wasn’t the right woman for him.

“Not necessarily,” he said quietly.

My face fell, and I pressed my lips together to stanch the nauseating sting of rejection. Here I was, aching with need, still tipsy, and practically throwing myself at him. And he was turning me down.

I’d never been one to beg. If he wasn’t into it, fine. But the hard-on in his pants told a different story, so I needed him to say the words. “I just thought...It seems like...okay. If you feel no attraction here, then just say so. I don’t need your pity.”

His eyes went as wide as dinner plates and his jaw dropped. “Pity? Are you kidding? It’s taking every bit of mental strength I have not to carry you to that couch and fuck you until you come six times, screaming my name. No attraction? One kiss and I want to kiss you for five hours.”

“Oh. Um, okay.” I stumbled over my words, trying to mesh the warmth humming in my veins at his words with the confusion I still felt about his reasoning. I squinted at him questioningly. “So, not the chemistry.”

He threw up his hands and groaned, “All I’ve done since I met you is try to stop thinking about all the ways I want to kiss you. All the things I want to do to that body of yours. Chemistry is not the goddamn problem.”

I went limp against the kitchen counter, my hands curling around the drawer pulls to hold myself up. My panties felt damp and my heart rattled in my chest.

“So what’s the problem?” I barely choked out the words. If we both felt the same searing chemistry, what could possibly be not right about it? “Is it because of your ex?”

His laugh came out like a bark and he shook his head. “No. Definitely not my ex. In fact, since you crashed into my life, it’s the first time in two years that I haven’t given a shit about my ex.

“So...” I still wasn’t understanding.

“You. This is about you. You have a plan and a schedule and a relationship goal. And I’m not that guy. I’m who women come to for a good time. I don’t do relationships.”

I huffed out a frustrated breath. “Again, not for you to decide. Sure, I have plans, but they’re my plans. Who’s to say I can’t have a good time while I’m here? Why can’t I kiss you without you telling me it can’t happen every five minutes?”

He ran a hand over his scruff, then over his eyes. “You shouldn’t change your plans for me. For this. You’re a nice person, Sarah. You deserve a good guy who wants a relationship, not a player like me.”

Braden had no way of knowing it, but he’d just poked the bear. Being called nice was a slap in the face. I wasn’t just a nice girl who studied hard and baked brownies. I was a multifaceted woman who could make plans and change them when she felt like it. I wasn’t the workaholic, responsible drone my family expected me to be. I had cravings and desires, and one of them was standing in front of me, acting like he knew everything. I wanted to punch him. Then kiss him for a long, long time.

“You don’t dictate what I deserve. Or what I want.” I spoke quietly and folded my arms.

His face reddened and he scrubbed a hand over his features again, exasperated. “Jesus, woman, do you really disagree with me or do you just like to argue?”

I licked my lips. “I do like to argue. But I don’t want to argue about this.”

His eyes heated, pupils dilating. I watched them lazily roam over me.

“What do you want, Sarah?” His voice was low and husky. It was a white flag surrender.

What do you want?

I wanted Braden unleashed and uncensored. I wanted him charged with lust. I wanted him to make my body feel things it had never felt before and would probably never feel again. The scientist in me was curious. The woman was desperate and impetuous.

I had a choice. I could accept his analysis, revert to being the rational planner I’d spent a lifetime perfecting, and go upstairs and dig out my vibrator like a nice, acquiescent roommate. Or I could ask for what I wanted.

Braden waited, and I could see his pulse throb in a vein of his neck. He was trying to do the right thing, whatever he thought it should be. It was on me to tell him what it was.

“What if I want the player?” I stepped closer to him. Our bodies were almost touching, and I could feel the tension in the air like electricity before a summer storm. Only we were the brewing storm, and all it would take was one errant spark to burn the house to the ground.

“I don’t want a plan for the future.” I whispered, locking eyes with his. I saw the Adam’s apple in his throat bob as he swallowed hard. “I want right now. And I want to know what happens after a kiss like we just had.” My voice was quiet and soft, but my eyes communicated my seriousness.

He leaned closer, his voice a rough breath against my ear. “Damsel, I’m more than happy to show you.”

As soon as the words were out, his mouth swept across my neck, leaving tremors in its wake. His lips were on mine in a slow, deep kiss. His hands pushed into my hair.

It was a different kiss than the one from earlier. It was furious, desperate, consuming.

His tongue wrapped around mine and stroked, taking what he wanted. His hands cupped the back of my head and held me at the perfect angle for our mouths to find each other and mesh in a collision of lust and heat.

There was no going back. Every nerve ending in my body was begging for more, urging me forward.

I wanted to feel every sensation, every quivering breath, every blur of my edges he could find in me. This was about me obeying what my body needed. It was about pent-up desire that had been building for two weeks that felt like two months.

It was about finding a piece of myself that had been buried for years while I held firm to my responsible role in the family, the one everyone could rely on, the one who planned everything out all the time. I wanted to try something unplanned and unexpected that belonged just to me.

Even if for only one night.

---