Page 34 of Branded
He was dangerous and would make me want things and I would inevitably disappoint him and…
He was sweet and nice and gorgeous and strong and?—
Ballsy.
Smitty just laid his feelings and thoughts and vulnerabilities out there. He was himself without apology and just took the shit that was tossed his way.
And he’d taken one look at me and knew that he wanted to know me?
Him?
Conner Smith.
How did that even make sense?
It didn’t.
But it did make me want to be more. To be like him.
To be ballsy.
Which was probably why I did what I did next.
Eleven
Smitty
One second, I was glancing down at her face, trying to discern the sparks in her eyes.
The next, I was seeing her face draw nearer.
“What are you—?” I asked.
Her nails dug in a little deeper, but it wasn’t to hurt me, to push me away.
It was…
To lift her higher, high enough for her to get her other hand on top of my shoulder and?—
“What are you doing, little bird?” I asked, though this time my question came in a whisper.
And this time I barely got the question out before she was huffing out a breath, that glimpse of fire reappearing, and those sparks were beautiful in her emerald eyes.
“What am I doing? What am I doing?” Her mouth pressed flat. “What I’m doing is trying to kiss you here,” she snapped.
She snapped.
With fire in her eyes and pink on her cheeks and her plump, pink lips glistening and begging for my touch.
And because I was Smitty, because I was myself, I couldn’t resist teasing. “I thought we were working on just being friends?” I tilted my head to the side, studying her face, ignoring my cock twitching in my sweats, the urge to take those pretty lips.
A glare.
An actual glare.
Since when did a woman glaring at me feel like an actual victory?
Since it was this woman.
