Page 15 of Branson's Promise

He looked at me expectantly before his eyes dimmed and his smile fell into a hard line. “I feel like there's a but coming.”

I shrugged, “But Noel and I have history and I like him. I’m sorry. I really am fucking this all up.”

“Why? Is it the money? Because he can buy you fancy things?” His words were bitter, and I took in a deep breath as they dug their way into my heart. Milo’s eyes widened, regret etched into his features.

“Is that how shallow you think I am? I don't know what I've done to make you feel that way about me.” My voice trembled and I made to stand but he reached for me, pulling me back down next to him.

“Fuck. No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that.” He tugged at his hair, visibly frustrated with himself. “I know you're not shallow. I didn’t mean it, Bran, really I didn't.”

I believed him, believed he wasn't that cruel. The whole morning had been a mix of emotions. A right ol’ cluster fuck.

“It's okay. I know you didn’t. Can we put this behind us? Friends, right?”

Milo smiled, but it didn’t meet his eyes. “Friends. And for you, I will put up with the douche canoe.”

I chuckled at that, some of the tension brought on by his earlier comment evaporating. “Maybe don’t call him that?”

“Okay, I will put up with Mr Moneybags.”

“Milo!”

He laughed. I laughed. And suddenly, it felt like things would be okay between us.

Chapter 8

Noel

Appetency. A strong desire. Longing. Craving. All words to describe the way I’ve felt since the moment I first laid eyes on Branson. A desire that has kept building and building with every call and every message. That gorgeous, sexy, exasperating man burrowed his way under my skin, and I was certain he had no idea how much of an effect he had on me.

What would it be like to call him mine?

My plan to woo Branson last night had gone astray with that idiot laying his hands on him and then by his sexy as fuck, yet infuriating roommate kicking me out. Why he took so muchoffence to me trying to take care of Branson - ofbothof them - I had no idea. All I knew was that Milo, the little artist, seemed to severely dislike me.

Shame.

My traitorous dick twitched at the thought of the dark haired, brooding man, who I had developed a sizzling attraction towards in the few hours since we’d met. It was most likely - well highly likely - due to the way he constantly scowled at me. And the way his eyes constantly caressed Branson and the way he made Branson light up with a single touch. Milo had it bad. At least we had something in common.

As I waited on Branson’s bed for him to return, I took in my surroundings. It seemed my kitten had an affinity for soft items and trinkets. His bed was strewn with blankets and throw pillows and a shelf housing a large collection of mugs ran the length of one wall. If I was to hazard a guess, I would say he was trying to collect a mug from all fifty states. I saved that nugget of information for a later date.

Standing from his bed, I walked over to the window, taking in the view of the street below. New York was grey and dull, though it was early summer and was due to heat up later in the week. I played with the idea of taking Branson somewhere along the coast.

“Thought I’d find you in here.” Branson’s voice came from behind me and I spun around to face him, once again taken aback by his beauty. I bit down on my knuckle, unsuccessfully fighting back a groan. Branson laughed, taking a step towards me when his phone started ringing, halting his movements.

Seriously? It was like two steps forward, five steps back with him. Fucking interruptions. He gave me a small smile, turning to find his phone on the bed. “August, hi, yep, sorry. Can I call you back? Oh yeah, not an emergency, false alarm.” He went silentfor a while, and I could vaguely hear a voice on the other side. “Okay, sure. I will call you later. Bye.”

“An emergency?” I asked, raising a brow. My mouth watered at the pink flush that appeared on his cheeks.

“Nope. No emergency, never mind.”

“Come here.” My voice was low but loud enough for him to hear. Branson stepped towards me, taking slow, tentative steps until he was right within touching distance. Perfect. Reaching out a hand, I placed it on his waist and dragged him flush against me. His breath hitched, and as I brought my face closer to his neck, I could hear his rapid intake of air.

I moved my hands to the hem of his vest, deliberately grazing them along his belly, feeling the cool skin there. He shuddered, his skin breaking out in goosebumps.

“What are you doing?” Branson asked, tiny puffs of air hitting my cheek and I turned my lips to ghost over his.

“Exactly what I said I would - stripping you slowly.” I moved my lips, loving the way he chased their departure, leaning forward to catch them with his. But instead of indulging him, I kissed down the side of his neck, then left featherlight pecks over his collarbone, before tugging at his top. Branson lifted his arms, and I threw it to the side then resumed mapping his body.

“Now I’m going to kiss every bare inch of you. Do you remember what else I said?” Bending, I wiped the flat of my tongue over his pert nipple, rolling the other between my thumb and forefinger. My dick was hard as steel, but I ignored it. This was about him, not me.

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