Page 33 of Branded
“No,” I said again. “Don’t go. I—I—I—” A breath, frustration making my grip tighten, my nails digging into his arm. I tried to get my fingers to unlock, not wanting to hurt him. But instead, he lifted a hand, dropped his palm over the top of my hand, and held me in place.
“I’m here,” he said.
“It’s your fault,” I blurted.
His throat worked, but he didn’t try to pull away again.
And fuck, God. Could I say any fucking thing right?
“I know,” he whispered.
“You make me want something I shouldn’t.”
“I just…” A breath that lifted and dropped his big shoulders. “I just want to be friends, little bird. No pressure. Nothing except getting to know each other.”
“Why?”
His brows drew together. “Why what?”
“Why would you possibly want that? We hardly know each other and?—”
His hand on mine squeezed. “I saw you, and I knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That you were someone worth knowing.”
A punch to the gut. Those words were a punch to the gut. Not a disappointment. Not something to be ashamed of.
“How?”
He gently brushed the skin beneath my eyes again.
“These.” I inhaled sharply. “I saw these—just for a second—and I felt it”—he thumped a fist to his chest, just above his heart—“here. I knew I needed to know you.” His lips twitched. “Even though you wanted nothing to do with me.”
“I—” That was the second time he called me little bird, but it wasn’t the most important thing in that moment. It was…
I leaned back enough to meet his eyes.
“But how?” I asked. “I mean, I ignored you and barely said anything?—”
“You said, Not interested.” His lips twitched again.
My cheeks went hot. “I’m sorry. I—” I bit the corner of my mouth. “I just?—”
“Wasn’t interested.” He grinned. “Which was cool then. And it’s cool now. You don’t have to like me.”
He thought I wasn’t interested in him?
Him and his lovely smile and big dick and the beard I wanted to feel on my face?
Well, on my face and other places.
Between my thighs. On my breasts.
But I digressed.
Because the problem wasn’t that I didn’t like him. It was that I liked him too much.
