Page 48 of Branded
But though he nodded, that uncertainty didn’t go away, not completely anyway.
Words.
He needed the words.
And though my insides were squeezing tight, throat full of tension, I managed to whisper, “It’s not nothing to me.”
The uncertainty flitted away.
A cocky smile took its place. He turned his arm, dislodging my grip on his wrist as he spun his hand, wrapped my fingers in his own. They were warm and strong and big…just like him. And, just like him, his hold on my hand settled me.
Like something deep inside me, beneath the roiling anxiety, the self-doubt, the scars that had hardened my protective shell, had unfurled.
Opened.
To him.
And only him.
My pulse sped, prickles on my nape, sweat between my fingers.
A furrow between my brows.
That he smoothed away with a gentle swipe of his thumb. “I know,” he whispered. A wicked grin. “Think you’ll be able to take the whole can.”
Laughter—part cackle, part outraged mirth, part teenage-esque giggles—bubbled up in my chest.
Which he knew.
Because he nipped my bottom lip. “Call me while you’re watching Great British Bake-Off later, yeah?”
Oh. I was so going to kill him.
Especially since my cheeks flared and Hazel looked intrigued and my thoughts went fully dirty—like seriously, he was so damned good as just a voice on the phone, how would he be in person, “watching” the episodes with me?
Which had a wicked thought pinging through my mind.
I crooked a finger, grinning when he bent so I could whisper in his ear. “Or maybe you should come over and we can watch together.”
He straightened like I’d shocked him. “What?” he croaked.
And I supposed I had.
I’d kind of shocked myself.
Okay, I’d really shocked myself, and though some part of me—okay, my clit—had meant it, wanting that rough voice, those warm, strong hands on me, the rest of me couldn’t believe I’d just uttered the invitation.
Smitty knew that.
Because his face stayed warm, but it also went soft, and he tugged lightly at a strand of my hair. “Soon, little bird, soon.”
Warm and wicked.
Sweet and teasing.
I liked this man.
I liked who I could be with this man, liked that I could gather myself and lift my chin, fill my voice with tart, tell him, “We’ll see,” and we both knew it was an inevitability.
