Page 8 of Nothing Left to Lose

Brody laughed, but he never let go of my hand. He was taking thiswaybetter than I was. Considering this was the first time he’d ever kissed a guy. That I knew of, anyway.

Christ.

What if it wasn’t?

No.

No, I had tonotthink of that. He’d been with a stack of women before, and it never bothered me too much. But the idea of him kissing a man? A man that wasn’t me?

The Champagne was threatening to reappear. The way my stomach turned...

He was completely unfazed, and I was spiraling. And I was the gay guy who’d had my share of men, kissing random strangers in clubs who’d meant nothing at all. Exactly how he’d just kissed me.

It was all a very blunt reminder. Proof that kissing me meant nothing to him.

“Miller?” Brody murmured, his eyes full of concern.

“Yeah, maybe a nap isn’t a bad idea,” I said. I grimaced at Carina. “Sorry.”

She chuckled. “It’s okay. Hope you’re feeling better before dinner tonight.”

Dinner?

We had to attend a dinner?

Jesus.

“See you there,” Brody said as he waved her off and led me back to the elevator. He leaned me against the wall and his eyes met mine, clearly concerned. “That Moët really hit you hard, didn’t it?”

It wasn’t like I could tell him this was me freaking out, not me drunk.

Whatever.

“Mm. I think I need that nap.”

In our suite, I made a beeline for the bed and fell onto it, lying on my back and pulling the pillow over my face. Brody lifted one of my feet and pulled my shoe off, then the other, and I hated that he looked after me like that.

The bed dipped, and I didn’t need to look to know he was sitting beside me. “You okay under there?” he asked, his voice soft and sweet. I hated that he spoke to me like that too.

Everything he did messed with my head. He was one hundred percent boyfriend material. The perfect boyfriend for me. He was caring, sweet, supportive, funny, gorgeous...

And straight.

And one hundred percent not my boyfriend.

Certainly not my husband.

“This is going to end so badly,” I mumbled.

“It’ll be fine,” he replied.

I wasn’t talking about the likely legality of it all. I was talking about us.

Not that I would tell him that.

“We did okay back there, right?” he asked. He sounded so insecure; it made me pull the pillow away so I could see his face. He looked as uncertain as I’d ever seen him. He was normally confident in everything he ever did. “I mean, the kiss.” He grimaced. “Was it okay? I think we did okay. Without practice or without warning, or anything, really. I mean, we talked about it, but actually doing it was okay, right?”

Seeing him so unsure hurt me physically. I sat up and nudged him with my shoulder. “Are you okay with it?” I asked. Then, because I liked to inflict more pain on myself, I added, “I might even think it wasn’t the first time you’ve kissed a guy before.”

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