Page 161 of Branded
It was?—
My nostrils worked, the sweet scent of Donna’s hitting my nose.
Oh, I wanted the apple and brie grilled cheese with fig jam. No needed it.
My stomach went again.
I wanted it, and wanted it now, and?—
“Are you going to gnaw off your arm if I take you somewhere that’s not Donna’s?”
I blinked, so lost in my almost tasting that fig jam on my tongue that it took a minute for me to process what he was saying.
“What?” I asked, admittedly not at my finest, mostly because he was talking, and I was dreaming about fig jam and creamy brie cheese.
“How soon do you need to eat?”
Another blink. “Five minutes ago.”
Something happened to his face, fire and humor mixing together with soft and gentle in his eyes, pairing with the curving of his lips, and it sent my heart skittering in a direction it had absolutely no business going.
“You good with Donna’s twice in one day?”
“Will it get a fancy grilled cheese sandwich into my mouth sooner?”
A brow lifting. “A fancy grilled cheese?”
“Apples and brie and fig jam. It’s an orgasm between two slices of bread.” My stomach growled again at my words, and he laughed, big and loud and beautifully, and I felt like I’d felt when I’d first seen him, definitely how I’d felt the first time I’d seen him after everything had happened with his bitch of an ex?—
I wanted to be the one to make him laugh.
I wanted that humor in his blue eyes to be directed at me. I wanted us to have inside jokes and for him to smile at me in a special way, like he had a special smile just for me.
I wanted him to think I was pretty and sexy and funny and smart and?—
“Well, don’t let it be known that I get between a woman and her orgasms.”
My lungs seized.
I wanted that.
Heat and need and sex and orgasms. Fingers and cock and tongue. Big and hard against my soft and curved.
But…this was a lot.
This was, perhaps, too much already.
I’d get my orgasm, but it would be in the form of fruit and honey, jam and bread. It would be in the form of him carrying my bag and encouraging me to buy the shoes.
It would be in the form of a nice man looking out for me, maybe being a friend, maybe just making amends for being a bit of a jerk (and only a bit because I knew I was a lot to deal with and because I knew he’d been coping with a flurry of emotions and pain over the last year, especially with my pregnancy in his face).
But he’d move on.
They always did.
And I certainly wasn’t a catch.
Pregnant, going to be getting fatter by the minute. Hormones going crazy. Low blood pressure making me a freaking nuisance. Totally high maintenance and so messed up that I was a grown woman and still using my clothes and makeup as a shield because I’d never be able to let anyone in, not really.
