Page 70 of Craving the Player

Chapter Thirty-One

Sierra

“You're absolutely ridiculous,” Isqueal, attempting to hide my smile in Braden’sshoulder as he carries me bridal style down the hallway to his apartment.

There was no way that he was about to let me out of his sight after what happened in the car—which thankfully, he hasn’tmentioned since—so Iwasn’tsurprised when he insisted that Istay the night with him. There wasn’tany way that Iwas going to say no either.

This is exactly where Iwant to be.

“Ithink you mean absolutely jaw droppingly handsome, sweetheart,” he mumbles, kissing my head. Keeping me held firmly in his arms, he manages to use his key to unlock the door before pushing it open with his foot.

Loud voices erupt through the doorway, and Ilift my head in search of the culprit, hoping that we didn’twalk in on something that’sgoing to be burned in my memory for the rest of my life. But when Ifind Clay lying outstretched on the couch, feet hanging off the edge, abox of half-eaten pizza on the coffee table, and ahorror movie playing on the T.Vscreen, Ilaugh.

“Why aren’tyou gone?” Braden asks gruffly, his voice barely rising over the volume of the movie.

Clayton shoots up and reaches for the remote, turning the sound down afew notches before resting eyes on the two of us.

“Well if it isn’tthe two lovebirds. Finally home, are we?” He drags his attention to the clock above the T.V. “It’stwo in the morning, in case you forgot how to read aclock.”

“And?” Braden shoots. His eyes drop to mine, sending me awarning before my feet are placed on the floor. “Ididn’tknow that Ihad acurfew, Dad.”

After pulling my dress further down my legs to avoid giving Clay aview of my goodies, Icross my arms and pin him with alook. “At least we were out doing something. What’syour excuse?”

“Plans changed. Figured Iwould save my liver for the night and watch amovie.”

“Smart.” Braden snorts. When he laces his fingers with mine, Ilook up and see him already staring down at me with soft, muted eyes. “You tired yet?”

My mind screams yes but Ishut it up, shaking my head instead. “Ican stay awake for awhile longer.”

With as little as anod in my direction, he pulls me behind him to the living room. And when Clayton makes no move to share the couch, Braden sits down in front of it, his back leaning against it. Grinning, Iwatch him pat his lap and hold his arms out in front of him. Isettle on his thighs without hesitation.

He bends forward and presses his mouth to my ear. “Keep your hands to yourself, yeah? We have company.”

Ashiver racks through me at the thought of trying anything while Clayton sits only afew feet away. Braden’shands wrap around my waist and pull me as far against his chest as possible.

“Iwill if you will.”

“Best behaviour, baby. Scouts honour.” He pats my sides.

Clayton turns the volume back up, cutting our conversation short as we turn our attention to the young woman screaming for help on the screen. Iattempt to ignore the consistent flutter in my chest with every soft stroke of Braden’sthumb against my side, but fail miserably. His body heat wraps around me tighter than his arms do, and Ifind my eyes starting to droop as his heart beats quickly against my back.

There’sonly one thing that runs through my mind before it all goes dark.

In just afew days, this is all going to disappear.

BRADEN

The bed is cold when Iwake up, my least favourite feeling as of late. Idon’thave time to get frustrated by Sierra leaving because Ihear her voice in the apartment, muffled by my closed bedroom door. The sound makes my lips lift in asmile as Isit up and stretch my arms behind my head. Ilook down at the pink pillow resting beside my black one and gnaw on my lip.

I’ve never been the guy to let agirl so much as keep asock at his house, let alone half of the kind of shit that Ifind littered around here now. There’sno room that’ssafe from the Sierra invasion, but Ican’tfind it in myself to give ashit. It’sso natural to me now seeing an extra toothbrush on the bathroom counter or apair of booty shorts in my laundry basket.

Maybe that makes me apussy-whipped loser. Who the hell knows.

Reaching down beside the bed, Istretch my arm out to grab at-shirt from the floor but freeze when my nightstand starts buzzing. As Imove to pick up the vibrating phone, Ihesitate when Inotice it’sSierra’s.

Do I, or don’tI? Is there arule that says Ican’tpick up her phone when it rings?

With ashrug of my shoulders Igrab it and flip it over, raising my brows at the caller ID on the screen. My pride gets the better of me and Ianswer the call with aclenched jaw.

---