Tears well in her eyes but she doesn’t look sad anymore. Her face is red. Her fists are clenched. Her breaths are labored. She’s pissed the hell off. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m growing more nervous by the second. She’s slipping through my fingers faster now, and I don’t know how to make it stop. I need her to understand.
Without thinking, I grab onto her hips and haul her to the wall next to the painting. “Love. I do love you. And you loved me too but then the moment someone else stuck their dick inside you, you forgot about that love. Reduced it to nothing but a fucking memory. Did you ever even think about me?”
“This isn’t about you and me!” she cries out and shoves at my chest, but I don’t move. “This is about your lies—about you deceiving me! This is not about us or our love.” My girl is tiny and weak. Snatching both of her wrists, I push them against the exposed brick above her head. She squirms her body but when I smash my hips against hers, pinning her to the wall, she freezes. Terror swims in the pools of her eyes. Fucking terror. She’s afraid. Of me.
“Of course this is about us,” I hiss, dropping my voice to a whisper. “Or course it’s about our love. Tell me. How could you forget about me so easily? Not one second of one day went by where I didn’t think about you, babe. I obsessed over finding you.”
She presses her lips together when I lean forward, but I kiss her anyway.
“Baylee, I didn’t respond to those emails because I assumed it was someone pretending to be you. I was confused.” It’s mostly the truth. She didn’t seem like herself at all. Not my sweet Baylee. My girl would never willingly run off with someone else when she had me.
The terror melts away as her expression changes to one of determination. It doesn’t fit, considering our proximity and the anger emanating from me. She should still be quivering and frightened, but she’s not.
“I’m sorry, Brandon.” Her words weave themselves through my heart and slip under the black smudges. I hold them there closely. Guard and protect them. Nurture and love them. “You’re right. It probably must have been very confusing for you. I’m so sorry.”
Relief floods through me and I let out a rush of air. Crisis fucking averted.
“I love you, Baylee Marie,” I murmur as I release her wrists and then slide my palms down her arms and to her hips.
She’s still stiff but she lets me kiss her this time, her mouth opening to give my tongue access. God, she tastes so fucking good. I can’t wait to taste all of her. My mind flits back to the brief taste I snuck from her last night, and although I know I was a bastard for doing it, my cock hardens at the mere thought. I need more. To consume her as I make love to her. I need her like I need goddamned air.
“I’m hungry,” she murmurs when I finally break away. “I’ll make the call while you grab the food.”
I want to tell her I’m not hungry for anything but her. That I would rather spend the night licking and nibbling every part of her flesh. How I’d love to bury my tongue deep between her thighs and bring her pleasure. But then her stomach growls and I * out. I do need to feed her. The pleasure can wait. We have the rest of our lives.
“I’ll be back as fast as I can. Make the call and don’t leave this suite,” I instruct as I pull away.
She smiles and it quickens my heart. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”
Her words unnerve me but I’m not sure why. She’s grinning and her eyes are shining but it’s almost too much. Like the time she told me she loved the necklace I’d bought her for Valentine’s Day, and then later admitted she didn’t wear much silver because it irritates her skin. I’d been shocked and saddened that she could lie so easily to spare my feelings. At the time, I thought it was sweet. But now, now I wonder if she’s lying to me again. To keep me calm. Why would she lie to me?
I narrow my eyes at her and frown. “Don’t leave while I’m gone.”
She blinks and her smile falls. “I promise I’ll be here when you get back with our food.”
This time I do believe her.
THE MOMENT THE door slams closed behind him, I rush to the window. Several minutes later, I see his messy dark hair blowing in the wind as he emerges from the building below and trots across the street to a busy restaurant. When he turns to look up at the hotel, I duck away from the window and locate the phone.
He said to not leave.
And I won’t.
Not yet.