Page 167 of Trust Me Always

Yeah right. The man’s tongue fucks like a god. With his hands and that voice.

His body and his handsome fucking face.

He is a walking, talking real-life sex toy. All the fantasies I never knew I had come to life.

Maybe that’s why you’re obsessed with him?

Being near him—hell, thinking about him—is like being barricaded in a whirlpool of want, forever on the cusp of drowning, but the invisible safety vest his presence emits keeps your head hovering above water. I’m not just talking want that stems from lust—that’s just a given at this point—but deeper desires.

Scary ones.

The kind that reset your soul with someone else inside it.

But he’s always sort of been there, hasn’t he?

That’s a special sort of experience, right?

A connection rivaled by nothing else. By no other.

A virgin?

“Can I explain?” he asks softly, finally lowering onto the mattress at the foot of the bed.

I offer him a soft smile, so he knows I’m not discrediting his words.

As much of a shock as they are, as hard as they may seem to believe, all things considered, he would never say them to me if they weren’t 100 percent true. I trust him.

“Please.” I reach out, and he entwines his fingers with mine across the space.

Brady stares down at our hands a moment, flipping them over so he can watch as he draws a few small, soothing circles along the inside of my palm.

“A fear of mine has always been that I would fall for the wrong girl, and I’d give her more than I meant to give, and she’d take what would only be half hers.”

Bronze eyes lift to mine and hold.

It takes a moment, but I make sense of his words. “A baby?” I frown, a little lost but not wanting to appear negative.

“A baby,” he confirms, almost a little shy, but in his next breath he’s as sure as ever. “Cameron, I told you my father is my father by choice.”

“Aren’t all parents?”

His nod is a little sad. “Yeah, I guess that’s true, but the man who got my mother pregnant with me decided a kid wasn’t in his plans.”

I offer as much of an encouraging expression as possible. “Thank god for that, right?”

A surprised, low laugh leaves him, almost as if he never really thought of it that way, and he smiles. It’s wide and happy, and I climb across the bed, sitting with my legs folded right in front of him. Instantly, his strong arms come around me, loosely holding me close.

“My dad met my mom when she was eight months pregnant. She was working at a bank, and he was getting ready to ship out. He asked if he could write her and she said yes. He showed up at the hospital the day after I was born. Married her a week afterthat, and even though they put his name on my birth certificate, he wanted it to be official, so he adopted me as soon as the paperwork was ready.”

“Brady.” My heart clenches but not in sadness.

“Never, not for a single moment in my entire life, have I ever felt like less than Ben Lancaster’s son. Never have I lacked a damn thing a father is supposed to offer their son, their children in general. That’s why I never outright told anyone. Not from embarrassment or shame but because speaking the words out loud when they aren’t true felt wrong, disrespectful to him even. He is my dad, you know?” He lifts his head, his right hand coming up to cup my cheek.

“I have waited to sleep with someone because I need to be able to trust that person with everything I have, Cameron. I refuse to risk the chance that any child of mine could possibly lose a parent from choice. If I were sleeping around, I’d have no way of knowing if someone out there ended up pregnant and either couldn’t find me to tell me or simply decided not to. I know that sounds crazy. I’m young as hell and maybe this isn’t something that should have even crossed my mind yet. And I just said I lost nothing with Ben as my father. It’s true that I have everything I could ever need in my parents, but I also know that not everyone has someone else come along who can give as freely and wholeheartedly as my dad has. But it’s not only that, and maybe this is the craziest part.”

Brady pauses, his shoulders lowering a little, like he thinks this might be what changes things. “I want to give to another child out there somewhere what my dad gave to me simply by being nothing more than the man he is. I will adopt one day,” he says surely. “It’s a lot, I know, but it’s something I’ve known about myself for a very long time.”

My tears are falling, and when I lean forward, gently pressing my lips to his, he kisses me back the same.

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