He doesn’t budge.
“Besides—” I tug some more “—he’d try to flirt with all three of you at once. Total sleaze like that.”
“We wouldn’t mind,” they answer as one.
The vein in my temple almost pops.
Are they fucking serious right now?
Of course they are. It seems that almost every living, breathing female wants a taste of Brayden Hunt.
I renew my efforts to pull him away from my friends before they get any more ideas.
“Sorry, ladies,” Brayden says, finally walking backward as I continue to pull on his sleeve. “I’m a one-woman man now, and that’s not going to ever change.”
What he just said doesn’t register until we’re by the dressing rooms.
I let him go as if burned.
My heartbeat’s in my throat, choking me . . .
His smile is so wide now—the epitome of cockiness—and I just want to smack him across the face with my shopping bag. “What?”
Back into his pockets his hands go, and . . . is he rocking back and forth on his feet like an excited kid?
He is! This motherfucker is downright giddy.
“What?” I ask again.
“Nothing, baby.”
“Stop. Calling. Me. That!”
That smile remains fixed firmly on his face.
I shove him away. “You can go now.”
Brayden grabs my hand.
Gasping under my breath at the way my entire body heats up, I rip my hand out of his grasp. My mind twists and twists, spiraling into the memories of last night.
Him, on his knees, his mouth on my aching cunt, licking me until I had no choice but to come on his tongue.
Him telling me that he loves me.
“No. We’re spending the whole day together.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“You can’t. I’m hanging with my friends today.” Must get away. Must get away.
“I’ll tag along.”
“The hell you will. You can’t.”
“Sure I can.”
Desperate for an escape, I look around.
The dressing rooms. No way dipshit can follow me in there, and even if he waits for me, I’ll have a few solid minutes to regain some control. To remind myself why I can’t want him the way I do.
Because years of constantly reminding myself have worked out really well for me so far. Right.
Still, I bolt straight into the dressing room. There’s no one back here to count how many items I’m trying on.
Fuck it.
I dart behind a curtain all the way at the end, panting.
I’m alone. Thank God. Unfortunately all the privacy in the world can’t erase the images in my head.
Or the hungry pounding of my *.
Or the fact that there’s no way I can try on any of the panties I picked out. I’m fucking soaked, thanks to that asshole.
I grind my teeth, infuriated by the never-ending lack of control—
A head of black hair appears above the curtain.
Then a face.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I hiss, glaring up at him.
He’s so tall that he has no problem looking into the stall and smiling down at me. “You look fucking adorable when you’re angry. You know that?” The curtain starts to move.
I snatch it out of his hand. “You’ve been telling me that since we were kids. It’s still not a free pass to piss me off all the damn time!” Too late I realize what I’ve admitted, the memories it dredges up.
Any wider and that smile is going to burst open his face.
One could only wish.
“You need to get out before someone sees you,” I say, holding the curtain in place.
He pulls on it lightly, his eyes dropping to my chest. “A chance I’m willing to take. Let me see you try on that bra.”
How can a request like that make my clit literally tremble as if stroked?
“What on earth makes you think I would do that?”
Molten eyes meet mine, focused. Intense. I feel like I’m being eaten alive by that stare. “Because you want me to see you in all that lingerie, Kira,” he rasps.
My mouth goes dry. “Idiot, you’re my stepbrother. What if one of my friends come back here and see you standing there like a psycho?”
“Willing to risk it.”
Staring up at the ceiling, I wonder what the fuck I ever did to deserve any of this. Even worse, his obnoxious, demanding way of flirting is getting to me. All I feel is that yawning chasm of hunger for him, the soul-deep ache that wants to connect with his body.
No, not “connect.” Fuck. It always comes down to the sex with him. I refuse to attach feelings to it any longer. I’m just horny for him and frustrated because I can’t have him.
Nothing more.
Annoyed, I yank open the curtain.
And come face to face with that massive chest. “Excuse me.”
He doesn’t move.
Not surprising.
“Brayden.”
His hand shoots up, cupping my jaw. His thumb skims along my bottom lip, parting my mouth open slowly. The look in his eyes makes me tremble harder.
“Fuck, baby. You’re practically vibrating for what I’m dying to give you.”
I can’t help but moan quietly at his statement. Miserable due to my weakness, I jerk my face out of his grasp. “Please move.”