Page 73 of Legally Ours

"I bought that ring the day after I walked you home in New York."

If it physically could have, my jaw would have hit the floor. Brandon just chuckled, then leaned over and pushed it closed with one finger.

"But how could you...we barely...I didn't even...what?"

His grin widened to reveal one dimple. "What can I say? When you know, you know."

"But...how?" I asked again, still completely and utterly dumbfounded.

Brandon shrugged. "I thought it might be the case when I saw you on stage with your dad," he said. "But I knew for sure after you let me walk you home. Do you remember what you said about your house?"

I tried to recall the conversation last January and found that it returned easily. Everything about that night was stamped permanently into my brain.

"'It's no mansion on the Commons...'" I recalled.

"'But it's home to me'," Brandon finished with a smile. "And then you let me kiss you again, and I knew you were home to me, Red."

I reached out and fisted his shirt, pulling him close so I could kiss him. Like they belonged there, his arms wrapped around my waist and he returned the kiss with the promise of forever. When he let go, he was grinning, and I was out of breath.

"I'm surprised you still thought that after I slapped you on the tarmac," I said after taking a long drink of water.

"Don't forget about in my office. Although I probably earned that one."

I considered. "I would have deserved it if you had written me off." The lightness in my heart dimmed a bit as I thought about how hard I had made our beginning. "Maybe I still do."

Brandon just shrugged and gazed at the sparkling addition to my hand. "Honestly? I think it just made me want you more."

I quirked an eyebrow. "What does that say about you?"

Brandon came close again, caging me on the counter with his long arms.

"Probably," he said as he nipped one ear lightly, "that I'm a glutton for punishment."

My breath picked up as he captured my mouth again, lips sliding over mine. I honestly thought I could kiss him forever.

"Or maybe," he said as he suddenly swept me off the counter, "you're the masochist here."

"Maybe we both are," I murmured into his lips.

Before I knew it, I'd been carried into the bedroom and my feet were set back on the ground so that we faced the mirror over the bureau, Brandon standing behind me. I watched, transfixed, as he reached behind his shoulders and pulled his T-shirt over his head to reveal the set of chiseled abs that made my mouth water. The shirt was quickly followed by his pants, so that soon he was literally in his birthday suit, albeit blocked in the mirror by my still-dressed body.

"I can think of some ways to relieve your guilt," Brandon said as his lips met my neck. "Starting with your clothes."

He bit softly, and I arched back against him, already feeling the clear evidence of his arousal pressed against my back. His hands slipped around my waist and urged my hands up around his neck, then drifted back down to unbutton my dress from the front while I watched, completely transfixed. His touch was tender, but his eyes sparked––like the smallest piece of tinder would set the room on fire.

Once the knit fabric was undone to my waist, he brought my hands back down and slipped the dress over my shoulders, then let it pool by my feet. I heard, rather than saw his sharp intake of breath at the sight of me standing in my lingerie––black lace, his favorite.

"Fuck," came the low whisper behind me.

His eyes met mine in the mirror.

"Take it off," he ordered softly. "Slowly."

Without breaking eye contact, I brought a hand up to my shoulder and started to toy with one strap, tugging it over my shoulder. I stopped and bit my lip.

Brandon's hand pinched my hip suddenly, and I yelped as I jumped.

"Don't stop," he said evenly, his hands squeezing my waist, a bit more gently. My thighs clenched.

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