Page 173 of Branded
I wanted to make him lose control.
I wanted just a little more of him being soft, his care, just a little bit more of him bringing me water and looking at me with gentle eyes and making me toast.
Until he realized what I was, where he would never get.
Until he understood that I was too much trouble.
Until he gave up and left.
Until—
“Beth.”
My name was sharp, and I blinked, threw the heavy log that would secure the gates, and shut everything down except for this moment, this man, the heat of his gaze, the way his body and hands shaking had desire slinking through me.
“Sugarpie,” I said understanding what he wanted, that he needed to know why I was doing this, wanting the explanation. “And water bottles and fancy grilled cheese and toast with strawberry jelly. And”—my voice dropped—“you seem to finally want me, too.”
Between one blink and the next, he was in front of me, his body close enough for me to feel the heat of his.
“I’ve always wanted you.”
A sharp inhale, the babies’ movements picking up speed. “What?” I breathed on the exhale.
His eyes blazed. “I saw those red lips and wanted them wrapped around my cock.”
My heart had been beating fast, and I hadn’t realized quite how quickly until it increased its pace with those words, thudding against my rib cage, making it so my breaths were coming in rapid inhales and exhales.
“I saw that ass, those breasts, that face. Heard your laugh, watched you toss your hair and give Oliver and Marcel and Smitty—and even me—shit and I knew that you’d fucking ruin me, baby.”
I couldn’t form words.
Could just suck in another breath.
“I wanted that ruin,” he whispered. “But then Monica came up pregnant”—a cruel smile—“or lied about it, and I put you out of my mind.” A beat, his eyes going soft. “I’m not a cheater.”
No. I knew him well enough to understand how important loyalty was.
“And anyway, you belonged to Pru and Hazel,” he went on. “If it went wrong, then shit at work would get complicated. And I like my work. Hockey is the one thing that has always made sense in my life.” A shake of his head. “I don’t put that at risk, not ever.”
“I’m not like that,” I whispered back. “I wouldn’t do anything to?—”
Fingers on my bottom lip, dragging lightly across. “I know.” A breath. “Which is why this day has been coming from the moment I met you.”
Now my hands were shaking.
With need.
Because that was enough. His words were enough.
He’d wanted me then. He wanted me now.
He knew I wasn’t the kind of woman who would ever mess up his work.
And…he was here, his eyes a mix of hot and soft and…I, God, I wouldn’t ever be strong enough to turn that down.
So, I spun, taking a step away from him. Far enough that he could see what was on the back of the jersey—his name, his number. Far enough away that he could see that the jersey with his name and number was obscenely short, just teasing the backs of my thighs. And when I bent away from him, hitched my ass back as I angled at the waist, ensuring that the hem lifted a bit higher, I knew he saw what I’d intended—my lacy, royal blue panties that revealed more than they covered—because he groaned.
“Fuck, Beth.”
