Why did he ask it in a way that made her feel guilty? She had nothing to feel guilty about. This was something she’d wanted for a long time. “Well, yeah, but there’s no guarantee.”
He took a step toward her. “So if they don’t offer you something, you’ll be back in Blanco Valley?”
Was he fishing for something? “Where else would I go?”
“Because people change their minds,” Brandon answered matter-of-factly. “They get a taste of something better and they decide it’s worth leaving everything for.”
Were they still talking about her?
“Sounds like you’re talking from experience,” she guessed. She came closer to him, noting the ticking in his square jaw, highlighting the muscles that lent his face that chiseled look.
He didn’t respond, just kept grinding away at those teeth as though holding back his own nightmares. “We weren’t talking about me.”
“I know, but I’m asking anyway,” she pressed. Because whatever had put the hidden layer of distrust in his eyes intrigued her.
“I don’t want to talk about my past any more than you want to talk about yours,” he informed her.
Oh, yeah. There was something there. Brandon understood her reluctance to open her heart to just anyone, just as she understood his.
“Maybe you should take your own advice,” she said.
“What advice was that?”
“About not getting in a relationship with someone who won’t open themselves up.”
One of his dark brows quirked. “I guess it’s a good thing we’re not in a relationship, then.”
She forced a nod because something about his words sounded so final. As though he were making the decision for the both of them. “Agreed.” When he didn’t say anything, just continued to stare at her with those soulful eyes of his, she added, “So we’ll just keep doing what we’re doing.”
And wait a minute. Weren’t they just standing, like, five feet apart? How had they maneuvered back to each other? So close that she could count each dark stubble shadowing his jaw? So close that the heat he always threw off warmed her chilled skin down to the pit of her stomach?
“And what are we doing, Stella?” he asked in a voice as smoky as summer mountain air.
His breath fanned her face, sending chills down her spine and creating images of him whispering in her ear as his big body pinned hers to a soft mattress.
“I…,” she breathed. “Don’t know.”
His mouth curled, transforming his face from shadowed to melt-your-bones gorgeous. “I think that’s the first honest thing you’ve said to me since I got here.”
Her brows tugged low over her eyes. “That’s not true.”
His hand gripped her chin, cradling it in a gentle way that allowed his thumb to explore her lower lip. Because explore was the only way to describe how he was touching her. As though discovering something he’d been seeking for a long time but hadn’t been able to find.
“Sweetheart, you hedge better than a politician,” he murmured, lowering to her mouth.
“I’m not really sure, but I think you might have just insulted me.” Because how could it be an insult when his lips were hovering over hers like early morning mist over a lake?
“Or maybe you just think too much,” he countered.
Yes, she was definitely guilty of that. Like thinking why didn’t he just kiss her already? Or thinking she could just slide her hands over his shoulders the way his hand was currently sliding back into her hair. And how his palm was a perfect fit over the back of her skull. Firm and warm. That’s how his fingers felt cradling and massaging and sifting through the strands of her hair.
“I’m thinking you have a funny way of interacting with someone whom you’re not in a relationship with,” she remarked.
He grinned against her mouth, the movement prompting the gentlest contact of skin against skin. His lips were soft, surprisingly soft for a man, and sent a tingle across her own lips. A tingle that would grow to a full-blown flame if he didn’t kiss her already.
She gave in to her compulsion and curved her hands over his shoulders, familiarizing herself with the grooves and muscle and bone. He was hard, like granite under a layer of smooth, warm skin. Warmth that couldn’t be contained by the soft T-shirt he wore. His heat burned into her, penetrating her cool skin and curling around into her stomach.
Was it just her, or had their almost-kiss a few months ago not been this hot? This intense? She didn’t remember her panties almost going up in flames or her desire threatening to choke her.
“A kiss doesn’t equal a relationship,” he told her.
She nuzzled her nose against his. “But we’re not kissing.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Stella.” Before she could respond, before she could even exhale the breath she’d been holding, his mouth was there. Fitting over hers, exerting a gentle pressure that had her fingers digging into the flesh on the back of his shoulder.
When her eyes dropped closed, her other senses took over and magnified the virile man who was so much bigger and harder than she was. His arm enclosed her waist, tugging her closer, inch by slow inch until she was flush against him. Chest to chest. Feet to feet. Leg inserting between hers so that his muscled thigh was nestled perfectly in between her softer flesh.
Best. Kiss. Ever.
Brandon West could use his mouth as a lethal weapon to bring women to their knees. Because if he hadn’t been holding her to him with such firmness, she would have sank the second his mouth touched hers. And then she didn’t have time to think about all the other things she wanted him to do to her, because his tongue smoothed over her lips in gentle, yet not-so-subtle invitation to open the hell up.
He didn’t have to ask her twice. Without thinking about where they were, or the cars and people hovering around outside, even her looming anxiety, Stella obliged and parted her lips. With a hesitation that was sweet, yet longing, his tongue slowly pursued hers, touching just the tip before retreating again.
Since it wasn’t enough, since the minimal contact had opened an emptiness she’d been living with for a long time, Stella did her own pursuing. Her tongue chased his, testing the warmth of his mouth. When he groaned against her and tightened his hand on the back of her head, the heat was kicked up a notch. The passion she’d once possessed but that had gone dormant from lack of use awakened with an explosive burst of fireworks. She returned his groan with one of her own when he tilted her head to change the angle of the kiss, allowing him to dive deeper.
And she let him, because Brandon West was an overpowering man who held her passion and trust in the palms of his hands. The question was, what would he do with it?
Their tongues continued to dance and weave around each other until someone opened the front door of her studio, and the outside sounds of cars and people intruded on their moment of intimacy.
“Oh!” the startled voice announced, ripping her and Brandon away from each other like two teenagers who’d been caught necking by the principal.
Her mother stood by the door, her eyes wide to match the smile on her face, as though to say, Score one for the team, honey.