Page 30 of Never Say Yes To Your Brother's Best Friend

I don’t know if Rick can’t take it or if he’s worried that I’ve lost it, but he walks over. He stands over me, and then, after a momentary pause, he sticks out his hand. I take it but grab a clump of dirt, and when I stand up, I smear it over his jaw and rub it into his beard. My laughter is way too loud in the night. The neighbors are probably going to wake up, and they’re probably going to complain.

Rick doesn’t react to what I’ve just done. Instead, he lets go of me and brushes dirt out of my hair. Or tries to, at least. I think the dirt is pretty hard to remove, just like sand. He doesn’t look amused. But he doesn’t look pissed either. His face is so calm and controlled. I want to break past that reserve. I want honest emotion. I want the parts of him that he won’t show the rest of the world because the rest of the world isn’t me. I want, even if it’s just for a moment, to be special. To share something with him that no one else has ever shared.

“Let’s go back inside. This isn’t funny.” He says that, but he sounds faintly amused anyway.

He’s so close that his breath fans out against my cheek when he speaks. I want his hand back on me. I want both his hands all over my body. A shiver of desire ripples through me. I lean into him and reach up, bracketing his face with my hands. He doesn’t jerk away, and I can see something break through his impartiality.Finally.

“The only thing that matters is if you want this.” If he tells me he doesn’t, I’ll tuck him into my bed and find a guestroom. Or a couch. Shit, even the floor. Anything.

“I can’t.” The strain is so evident all the way through him, but especially in his voice. He sounds like he’s going to crack. He sounds like he’s going to break down. I’m afraid it’s going to happen. However, I’m afraid I’m not ready and that I’m not enough to put him back together.

His eyes get hard again. He won’t let it happen. No matter how tired he is, he won’t let himself lose control.

“You can,” I breathe. “You can. Do you want me or not? That’s the only thing that matters. Theonlything.”

“That’s not fair. This isn’t a real marriage.” He repeats it, which is how I can tell he’s close to breaking.

“Last time I checked, wanting someone doesn’t have to have anything to do with being married or not. Do. You. Want—”

His hands grasp my waist, and he hauls me up against him. Dirt shower or not, smudges of dirt all over both of us or not, his lips crush mine.

Ihaven’twanted this man from the moment I saw him. There was no instant, burning attraction. We didn’t even like each other at first, but now I know I’m in way too deep. I’ve been falling this whole time, slowly, but sometimes a slow burn is the most deadly and destructive burn. You don’t know it’s happening until you’re scorched down to the bone, and then there’s no putting out the fire because it has already worked its way under your skin. It’s inside of you.

I don’t even know if falling is the right word, but there’s something that’s been growing on me, and it’s led to this. It’s me learning who Rick is. Learning to see past his fake placid surface, the neutrality he puts on for show, the nothingness, and the rest of the time, the gruffness.

It’s possible that I’ve felt this since the first instant we met, and I didn’t know it. Maybe Ididthink he was beautiful but I didn’t understand because I was expecting one thing and I got another. Perhaps I’m seeing the beauty of his spirit and his personality, and despite what anyone says, that alone can make a person so freaking attractive.

It’s me learning to see him, to see all his hurts and wonders. The thing that’s been growing is this. It’s me feeling something for this grumpy man with the huge heart that he’s tried toprotect so hard all his life. The heart that’s been broken over and over by the family that should have wanted and loved him but didn’t, as well as by the losses he’s suffered and the things he’s seen and done. Also, not forgetting the parts he calls dirty and all the parts of him I know that aren’t.

I’m kissing the man who still wants to laugh and smile, be playful and goofy, and love life despite all the trauma and neglect, the iron-hard training, and the years of deprivation and rough living. I’m kissing him so fucking furiously with teeth, with my tongue, and with all of me behind it. My hands grasp his shoulders, my fingers curling into the fabric of his Henley. The cotton is so soft. I’m not going to let go. I’m not going to let this stop happening. We both need this. Even if it’s only a kiss, we both need it, so I throw my whole being into it, arching against him. His body pulls me to him like a black hole that I’m only too happy to step into and get lost in.

This man has been a weapon for our country. He’s done things I know are going to weigh heavily on his soul for the rest of his life. He’s seen things that have caused real, lasting damage. But despite all that, buried in the rubble of himself, deep down in there, I know is a good, hopeful, daring, lovely soul.

I want to believe it. I wanthimto believe it.

I plunge my tongue into his mouth, and he groans. His hands fist my T-shirt to pull me up harder against him, but I’m already there. There isn’t even room for air between us. I didn’t think it was possible, but it was. And I’m there. I can feel the hard outline of his erection through his jeans. I squirm, whimpering, kissing him harder, and trying to rub myself up against him.

“I know your past is going to haunt you. I know it’s hurting you. But it doesn’t have to stop you from having a good life. It doesn’t have to stop us from doing this. It won’t stop me from kissing you.”

“I know,” he grunts, licking along my bottom lip.

“I don’t care about your money,” I tell him.

His fingers curl against the waistband of my shorts. “I know.”

“And you can be a real asshole sometimes,” I continue.

“I know.”

I stroke along his jaw, his now neatly trimmed beard bristling under my fingertips. I find the break in it right by his ear, where a small scar starts. I trace the slightly raised outline of it. I don’t ask what happened. He won’t tell me anyway. He doesn’t want to think about it, and I don’t want him to think about it either. There are flames in his dark eyes, but there are dark circles that are very apparent too. Along with lines at the corners of his mouth that I think a few good hours of rest will erase.

I need to put this man to bed and make him sleep.

Alright, I want to put him to bed, fuck us both senseless, and then let him sleep. Everyone sleeps better after a few good orgasms, right? Or so I’ve heard. Because I can’t claim a single fantastic wild night in bed so far in my life. It has all been quite mediocre.

I actually truly don’t get what people see in sex.

But now I do. I get it. Just from bumping up against Rick’s solid body and from the heated, incredible kiss—an orgasm of a kiss. The rest of it with him…well, it would be fantastic. I know we’re combustible.

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