Page 21 of Protecting His Brat
“You aren’t leaving.” I say it calmly, but the danger in my voice is unmistakable. Crossing to the bed, I pick up the pile of dresses she just flung from the closet and take them back in to rehang.
“What are you doing?” Lacy screeches, stomps her foot, and slaps her thighs.
My goddamn cock is trained to harden at the first hint of her little tantrums and begins to length in my jeans.
Not the time, dude.
“I’m putting your fucking clothes back in our fucking closet, because you are not moving out. You belong here. With me.” She takes the clothes from me, I swear growling a little when I don’t immediately relinquish my hold on them.
“You think I’m packing?” Lacy laughs, but there is sadness and anger still simmering just beneath the sound. “Oh no, buddy. You aren’t getting rid of me that easy.”
Stunned, I let go of the clothes, and she spins to take them back to the bed. “You’re not packing to leave?”
“No. You think lying to me about your money and career is going to scare me off? You obviously underestimated how stubborn I am.” Lacy stomps back into the closet for another armful of dresses. “You’re famous. Who gives a flying shit? You know how many famous people I’ve met and dated? It sucks you didn’t trust me enough to tell me about yourself. I’m pissed as hell you made me think you didn’t want me to help because you thought I wasn’t good at what I do.” She stops on her next trip inside the closet, pointing her slender finger right in my face. “I’m fucking fantastic at my job.”
“I know. You run circles around my PR people.”
As if she doesn’t hear me, Lacy keeps going. “You may not trust me enough to let me in yet, but I’m not giving up. Hell, I almost understand it. Who would trust a spoiled princess like me with information like that? No one.” I’m horrified to see a tear tracking down her cheek. Before I can reach up to swipe it away, she turns back into the closet and picks up a couple shoe boxes.
“It wasn’t…”
“No, I get it. You thought if I knew about your money and fame, I would want to exploit it. Use it to my advantage.” Lacy stops right in front of me, her eyes sad and resigned. “I really do get it. And maybe I would have before that night I met you. I thought you saw how much I’ve changed, grown, these past few weeks. It doesn’t matter.” She stands straighter, grips the boxes closer, steels that already formidable spine of hers. “I’m not leaving. I love you, and I’m just gonna have to make you trust me. You’ll see. But until then, you’ve got yourself a squatter.”
Love? Did she just say she loves me? Possession and peace roar through me. Lacy turns and places the shoe boxes by the bed, then walks back toward me for another load of her things. I grab her arm before she can move past me again.
“My turn to talk.” I yank her closer, so she’s pressed up against the length of my body. “I didn’t tell you because of my own issues. I’ve been burned a lot over the years. By people who only wanted me for the fame and everything that goes along with it. It had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with my own baggage.”
Lacy fists her hands in my shirt, pulling me just a little bit closer. “Hey, asshole. Don’t you think I know about being burned?” She shoves me a little but doesn’t let go. “You know everything about me. My past. You know just how deep the scars go. But you still thought I wasn’t worthy of knowing you.”
Jesus. The pain etched on her delicate face slay me straight to the core. I will never forgive myself for doing this to her. Unable to witness that pain anymore, I press my lips to her forehead, then tuck her under my chin. “I trust you. It’s me I don’t trust. It’s hard for me to believe that I’m good for more than my fame. The band hit it big when I was nineteen, before I’d ever had a serious girlfriend. Hell, I was still a virgin. All my first relationships with women were fucked up groupies looking for a story to tell or actresses just trying to get ahead. I couldn’t recognize real love when I saw it. Or maybe I was afraid to recognize it and be wrong. I don’t know. But it was all on me. None of it had to do with you. I love you. My fear of not being enough doesn’t change that. Hell, the depth of my love, my complete obsession with you, it only magnifies my fear.”
More tears stream from her eyes. “You love me?”
I cradle her face in my palms. Her pale skin has gone all red and blotchy with emotion. There are bags under her eyes from the stress of the day, and she isn’t wearing a single bit of makeup. Her hair is the messiest I’ve ever seen it, frizzy and out of control. She’s the most god damn beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. So beautiful, my heart aches that I’ve hurt her.
She should be yelling, screaming at me. I want her to. But instead, she just looks at me with disbelief. As if being loved is something that couldn’t possibly be true. I never saw it before, but now I do. Our scars match. But where she pushed past hers and let me in, I just hid behind mine.
She’s stronger than I will ever be.
“I love you. I love the tantrums. I love how you spend hours in the bathroom doing god knows what every morning. I love that you can’t cook for a damn but keep trying. I love that you don’t kiss my ass. I don’t want you to change. I want you to be my brat, forever. I will work for the rest of my life to make sure you know just how thoroughly I love everything about you.”
“I could be nicer.” She says it quickly, as if to dispel the compliments I gave her. “Marci said she’d help teach me to be a better person.” Lacy sniffles and leans into me, pressing her tear-soaked face against my chest.
After living with her for over a month, I know she’s hiding the emotions bubbling below the surface. For every tear that escapes, there’s a world of hurt beneath she refuses to show. In her previous life, showing emotion had been a fruitless act. No one cared how she felt. They gave her what she wanted to shut her up.
Tilting her head back to look at me, I tell her the truth. “You may not be the best at saying please and thank you, but you are already the best person I know. You fight for what you want. What you deserve. You fight for the people you believe in. Look at everything you’ve done for the designers and artists in this neighborhood. They have a shot of making their passion the thing that supports them. Because of you. So, you like to get your way. Who doesn’t? When the brattiness gets out of control, I’ll help you reign it back in with a slap to the ass.”
Lacy whimpers and rubs her hips against me, my distended cock pressed between us.
“You might be a brat, but you’re my brat, and I love everything about you.”
Lacy’s eyes slip back down to my chest. “No one has ever said that to me. Said they loved me. At least not that I remember. Maybe my Mom did, but I was too young to retain it.” Her shimmering eyes look back up to me. “Thank you.”
Pride strikes me right in the chest, my heart swelling and beating in a way I’ve never experienced before. I’ll be the one to give Lacy what she needs, protect her, from the moment I beat the shit out of that rapist bum to the moment they put me in the ground.
Unable to hold back any longer, I take her mouth in a hungry kiss. Immediately, her tongue finds mine, and we’re clutching at each other, trying to get as close as possible.
“Need to feel your skin.” I rip her dress over her head, quickly followed by my own shirt. The second our naked chests touch, I calm. This is right. This is where we belong.
