Page 5 of Branson's Promise

“You’re from England?” My sister asked, a note of wonder in her voice.

“Yep! Born and raised. What gave me away?” He winked at Mia and I turned my head to face her, watching a blush creep up her cheeks.Oh, look, my new housemate is a flirt.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Branson. This is my little sister, Mia.” I knew she would hate the fact that I threw in thelittle,but I needed my new roomie to know what’s what. Mia stepped closer to me,accidentallykicking me in the shin as she did. I muttered a curse under my breath but kept my focus on the man in front of me.

“It’s good to meet you both and welcome to your new home. I promise, for the most part I am pretty clean and tidy. You just caught me at the tail end of a bad day, which I was trying to improve by enjoying a nice meal and a night spent lounging on the sofa in my underwear.” He gestured down to his pink boxers which I had been trying for the last few minutes not to ogle, but now that he was actively drawing my attention in their direction, were hard to avoid.

Next to me, Mia stifled a giggle. “I like him, he’s cute.”

“Mia!” I chastised.

“Aww shit, Mia. Now you’re making me blush. I should put some clothes on though, my mum would be horrified to know I greeted you in my undies.”

Mum. Undies.That accent, why did he have to sound likethat.

Branson gestured behind us, towards where I knew the bedrooms were. “Mia, lovely to meet you, sure I will see you around. And I guess I will see you later, roomie.” With that, he hurried down the hallway. Out of the corner of my eye I could see my sister watching me with a huge smirk on her face.

I rolled my eyes in response. Having lived my entire twenty four years in a house with only a father I avoided and my sister, in a space big enough for at least ten people, this houseshare business was about to be a whole new experience.

It turned out that living with Branson was indeed an experience. He was a whirlwind and I found myself happier than I had been in an exceptionally long time.

After two weeks together, we'd fallen easily into a routine - sharing one bathroom made that a necessity, especially when we were both rushing out to work in the morning. But it was never stifling having him in my space. In fact, I really enjoyed it. I likedcoming home to him, cooking for us (I used the term lightly as neither of us had many cooking skills) and some nights sitting together in front of the TV.

Branson did most of the talking and I offered small titbits about my day and my life. But mostly, I listened and laughed and felt grateful that I'd finally gotten out from under my father’s thumb.

Today was laundry day, my least favourite chore of the week. I kicked the door open and jostled the laundry basket in my hand while fumbling to close it. The washing machine and dryers were located in the basement of the building, and I was trying to get down; with the lift out of order, it was a pain lugging large loads of washing up and down the three flights of stairs to our apartment.

I tossed the pile of washing onto the sofa then got to folding it. The sound of the shower pump rumbled through the apartment, signalling Branson's return from his weekly game of touch rugby in the local park.

Folding each item methodically and placing them into a neat pile, I was down to a final few pieces when my eyes snagged on a royal blue lace garment that I didn’t recognise. Holding it between my fingers, my cheeks heated when realisation hit. A jock strap. A lacey blue jockstrap. There was only one person this could belong to. The same person I had been trying to think about in a platonic way since we’d first met. He'd told me a week or so after I'd moved in that he was gay, and it didn't help my little blossoming crush knowing that maybe he could return the feeling.Platonic, Milo! No hitting on your roommate.

But fuck me, if picturing Branson in this was not exceedingly difficult to avoid. I bet he’d look fucking incredible, the dark blue stark against his pale skin, the straps hugging his lean hips, the lace cupping his cock. My pulse raced at the picture in mymind and I ran the fabric through my fingers, liking the way the smooth fabric felt.

“What you got there, roomie?”

I snapped out of my lustful haze and dangled the jock from one finger, turning to face Branson. By the burning in my cheeks, I knew my face was bright red, the flush spreading down my neck and I was also sporting a half chub behind my grey sweats.

To add fuel to the already burning flames within me, Branson raised one eyebrow and shot a wicked smile my way. He was dressed in a white tank top and small orange shorts. The artist in me took in his clear expanse of skin and wondered if he'd ever let me mark him. With my tattoo gun, obviously.

“Oh, um, I think some of your washing got mixed up with mine again.” I tossed it to him and he caught it, raising it up before shoving it into his pocket.

“Oh shit, sorry. Thank fuck it didn’t turn all your whites blue. Had that happen to me before with my red one, everything was pink after. August was so pissed, even though I think he looks good in pink. Though the pink was not even and they were his work shirts and now I’m rambling again. Got any plans for the rest of the day, Milo?”

I shook my head, my mouth too dry to answer. I was still trying to remove the lusty thoughts from my mind and follow along with his rapidly changing line of conversation. Branson tipped his head to the side, scrutinising me as he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. “You okay? You’re very flushed.” The glint in his eye told me he knew exactly where my thoughts had drifted too.

I nodded again.

“Great! How about we order pizza and bingeThe Vampire Diaries? I need my Damon fix. That man could bite me any day. I mean feed from me, not kill me. I read that vampire bites can be very pleasurable.”

My pulse steadied and I chuckled, delighting in the openness and pure goodness of my new friend. “Sounds perfect, Bran. Let me clear this all away and then I will order the pizza. You line up the next episode.”

“Thank you, Miley. You’re the best roommate. Don’t tell August.” And then he winked at me before walking away. And I swooned. Like a lovesick teenager, I fucking swooned.

Chapter 3

Noel

London looked beautiful with grey clouds parting and giving way to magnificent blue skies and the sun bouncing off the glass offices surrounding me. I took a deep breath in, enjoying the scent of rain on the ground - petrichor, I remember reading it was called. I liked that word, and sounded it out a few times, moving my lips over each letter before focusing my attention back on the building in front of me.

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