For the past ten minutes I’ve been staring out the window of Brayden’s car wondering how the hell I got here. How did he convince me to go shopping with him?
Maybe it was the way he said please or the puppy dog eyes. Maybe it was the cracks he created in the treehouse the other night.
Maybe I was consumed with the feel of his skin on mine, and my body spoke for every other part of me.
I was stunned speechless. He came out of his room, changed and drying his hair with a towel.
Hypnotized.
Staring at him looking so delicious while still being turned on had me unable to say no when he asked.
I would have given him anything he wanted. Spread-my-legs-for-him kind of anything.
Next thing I know, I’m stuffed in his car on one of my first free days since graduating. This is not my idea of a good time.
It’s torture.
Ever since he came home for the summer, he’s been pushing me. Teasing me and testing me.
Tempting me.
I’m at my wit’s end with this annoying want for him. He’s driving me crazy, on purpose, but I can’t give in, as much as I want him, too.
That’s over and done with.
I made it so.
But he keeps bouncing back, chipping away at my resolve, telling me he loves me.
And I see the change, I do, but it doesn’t matter. It’s been so long I don’t know how easy it will be to change the dynamic of our relationship or how I think about him. Especially since he’s resolved to make me fall in love with him.
We pull into the parking lot, where he finds a spot near the entrance and we walk in.
As we step onto the escalator to the showroom, he turns and smiles at me. “How’s it feel to be done with high school?”
I shrug. “Good, I guess.”
“Are you excited for OSU?”
My gaze narrows on him. “Why so interested?”
The smile drops from his lips and eyes, revealing that beaten, hollow look I’ve seen a few times since he came back. He turns from me to get off the escalator and walks off, forcing me to jog to make up his lead.
I mash my teeth together as we pass by the first few displays to stop myself from reaching out and asking if he’s okay. To comfort him.
That’s not how we are anymore. I don’t care for him the same way. I can’t. Sure, my body still reacts to his, but that’s it.
An awkward silence surrounds us as we walk, then suddenly, he falls from my peripheral. My head snaps over in time to watch him land onto a couch. He frowns, then stands and moves to the one behind it. By the fourth couch, I’m next to him, arms crossed and brow raised.
“What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like?” he asks, then reaches for my arm, pulling me down next to him. “What do you think of this one?”
I bounce on it to form some opinion for him, my head moving back and forth. “It’s okay. A little hard.”
“Yeah, I agree. Next.”
We move to the adjacent row, and I barely sit down before I’m back on my feet.
“Hell no, unless you want to sit on a rock.”
There are probably over thirty couches and by the time I’m halfway through, I’ve lost him. After standing, I look around and spot him a row away and up. As I get closer, I have to shove my nails into my palm.
His long body is stretched out, arms crossed over his chest, and eyes closed.
“Hey.” I bump his elbow with my knee. “What are you doing?”
One eye pops open. “Nap test.”
I quirk a brow. “Nap test?”
“Yeah, come on down.”
He grabs hold of my wrist and tugs, making me fall on top of him. I let out a surprised squeak as his other hand flips my legs onto him as well like they weigh nothing.
“What are you doing?”
“You’ve got to try it out. Let me know what you think.”
“Idiot, I think I’m not going to get a good idea about the couch if I’m on you.”
Get off.
Get the fuck off.
Get off his motherfucking perfect chest and the bulge growing in his pants.
My body is unwilling to listen to the signal my brain is sending. It’s getting as wet as a bitch in heat and ready to make a scene.
Especially after his stunt in the shower. He made so much noise all I could think about was him tugging on that beast of a cock he’s got with enough strength to jack off a rhino.
Bastard.
I manage to push against his chest and slap his stomach. “Sit right, jerk.”
The corner of his mouth draws into a half smile.
And I remember.
Back before he knew I liked him, before he kissed me.
The names. The teasing.
Once he’s upright I fall down on the cushion, using it to cover the emotions from his stupid face that are forcing themselves on me.
When I look up, Brayden’s eyes are heavy lidded. He’s rubbing his fingers across his lips, an action that brings back memories I’ve tried to forget. Those lips eating me out on my birthday . . . and that night in the restaurant bathroom . . . on his bed.
He steps away, moving to one of the stations set up with maps and pencils.
“This one,” he says as he writes down the information from the tag.
Once he’s done, he holds out his hand and pulls me up.
“Are you buying it?”