Page 175 of Branded
“Raph?” I asked when we were halfway up.
“Yeah, honey?”
“I—” I paused, nibbled on my bottom lip. “I—” A shake of my head.
“What, baby?”
Honey. Baby.
Only my mom and Pru and Hazel had given me that.
I’d given it. I’d asked for it from the few men I’d dated.
But I’d never been given it freely, and that?—
Wasn’t what I should be focused on at that moment. This was about what I could do for a good man who was sexy and made my body sing…and he hadn’t even kissed me yet.
Oh, God.
Let him be a good kisser.
Pretty puh-lease.
“Beth?”
Right. I was supposed to be talking. “I haven’t done this in a while,” I whispered. “And it goes without saying”—I waved my hand in the direction of my belly—“I haven’t done it with all this.”
He didn’t reply, so I kept blabbering.
“So, I don’t know how I feel or what will feel good or what spots?—”
He shifted, bringing his hand and cupping my jaw. “So, we’ll figure it out.”
“I—”
“It’s been more than a year for me,” he said, straight out, shocking the shit out of me. A year? This man, and all his gorgeousness, both inside and out, hadn’t been with a woman for a year? “So, if anyone should be worried, it’s me and the fact that I might get the tip of my dick in you and come like a sixteen-year-old boy who’s just getting his first foray into pussy.”
“I—” A sharp shake of my head then I could only whisper, “A year, honey?”
No sign of embarrassment. No pink on his cheeks, and his eyes didn’t slide away from mine, just held fast and I saw the blip of amusement pass through those pretty blue irises. “My forearm has gotten quite the workout, so when I tell you I’ll figure it out, I mean we’ll figure it out, sugarpie. I’ll probably blow like the Fourth of July finally having you after wanting you for so long, but I promise”—those blue irises went intent, and I meant intent—“I’ll get you off first.”
Okay, that was fucking hot.
It probably shouldn’t have been, considering he was saying he was going to be a quick trigger. But…it was for me. He wanted me. He’d wanted me for a while. And he didn’t just let anyone get in there, to get close, to have this, and he wanted me.
Me.
My pulse sped, hope blossoming heady and wide, mixing with him giving it to me straight, with honesty that might not be flowery and poetic, but was the truth, and that meant more than any freaking sonnet. And add in honey and baby and we’ll, and this man was very close to giving me something important and big and altering.
But I couldn’t focus on that. On the worry of what that might bring, what it might do to me. On how much that made me yearn for all those unknowns.
Because he dropped his head, spoke against my lips, asking, “Okay?”
I sensed that he needed me to be okay with that, even though the worry was marching through the basement in my mind, gleefully knocking on doors, taunting the monsters.
This wasn’t what I’d signed up for.
Him giving. Me receiving, opening myself up to…
