Page 298 of Branded
His expression was soft as he pulled his phone from his pocket, held it up. “Don’t worry, gorgeous. I’ll call a Lyft.”
Emotions skittered through my belly.
Because I couldn’t leave him to wait for his ride on my porch.
Not in the cold, dark night.
Not—
“Why don’t you come inside and wait for it?” I blurted.
His face went even softer, and he brushed his knuckles down my cheek, along my throat. “That doesn’t help you get to bed, gorgeous.”
“Yeah.” My gaze dropped to my feet. “But you can wait in the front room, and I’ll just go on to sleep.” I pointed to the keypad above the lock on the front door. “Just hit this button to lock up after you go out. Or if you forget something or the car is late and you need to come back in, just hit 1622.”
His finger under my chin, tilting my head up. “Jules, I’m fine?—”
“Just do it, okay?” I said, tapping my toe, and then because I instinctively knew that he was going to continue to argue, I gave him the truth. “Because if you don’t, I won’t be able to sleep worrying about you being out here freezing your ass off.”
His teeth clicked together, and he sighed.
But thankfully, that meant he stopped arguing.
And followed me inside.
Seventeen
Cas
I soaked in all the details, all the insights into her life, catching more on a second look now that it wasn’t all new.
Ethan’s shoes on the rack by the door. A large winter jacket on a row of hooks, its smaller twin hanging next to it. A train-themed backpack sitting on the bench beneath them, a toy truck at its side. Jules had dropped her purse there and now she paused, hand on the wall just above the plain black leather, toeing off her shoes in an unconscious movement that gave me even more insight.
I could picture her doing the same every night, could imagine her doing it in my hallway.
A push from one foot tucked the shoes fully beneath the bench.
Then she turned for the kitchen, flicked on the lights, and tugged out a stool. “I can make you a cup?—”
There were colorful canisters on the counter, a bunch of bananas on a hanger shoved into a corner near the sink. Some sort of craft project in process on the island. And, Christ, there were even drawings held up by colorful magnets on the fridge.
I caught her arm, drew her against me.
I shouldn’t do it.
I shouldn’t.
But I couldn’t stop my head from dipping, from my lips brushing over hers.
She was just so damned wonderful.
“Go to bed,” I whispered, lifting my head, forcing myself to release her, to not taste her again. “I’ll be okay.”
“I—”
A breath, but then she nodded.
And then she moved down the hall.
