Page 24 of Conflagration
She gapes at me, and I wonder if I have to get this girl a mirror. “Seriously? Are you on drugs? Other than those few kisses in the hospital, you’ve barely touched me.”
“One, no, I’m not on drugs. And two, that was different. I wasn’t going to maul you in front of my family and the hospital staff. Hell, baby, you felt my erection that first day, and I know you just felt it now. That should tell you something. I’m thirty-three years old. I’m not afraid to admit when I want something. And I want you. Don’t even deny that you want me, too.”
“I don’t,” she says matter-of-factly, but I see the way she swallows hard.
“Oh yeah? Then why’s your pulse racing? Why are you breathing heavy? And why can’t you stop staring at my lips like you want them exploring your entire body right now?”
“I’m not… I don’t… Okay, fine!” she exclaims, her eyes rolling at the same time. “The sexual deviant in me can’t stop picturing you naked. Or those lips all over me.”
Grinning at her, I know I’m about to be a lucky man. “Then I guess it’s a damn good thing you’re staying in my room tonight. I can’t wait to meet this so-called sexual deviant. A sweet thing like you, I don’t think you have a single kinky bone in your body, but you could always prove me wrong. And if you want, I can always lend you mine,” I tell her as I gesture to the bulge in my shorts, grinning as her cheeks turn pink with embarrassment.
But then she looks down at my lap, and I have a feeling that she likes the idea just as much as I do.
THINGS HAVE moved alarmingly fast ever since we got to Branson’s place, with his mom buying me clothes, his temporary proposal—which, I have to admit, was a pretty damn sweet gesture—to my practically mauling him on his reclining couch. The thing is that I didn’t want to stop, even though I forced myself to. If he hadn’t been injured, we’d probably already be naked and I’d be begging for him, but then I felt him stiffen underneath him, and the concerned side of me took over. That doesn’t mean I don’t want him. He could apparently read me easily. The desire I feel for him is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and I need to get some space before I throw myself at him again.
“My sexual deviance aside—which, by the way, is buried deep down there somewhere—I’m still not sleeping in your room, Branson. I know we’ve gotten to know each other this past week, but Jesus, we’re practically strangers!”
He ignores me, and apparently, I didn’t move far enough away, because when he leans over, he hooks an arm around my waist, hauling me up against him until his lips are hovering over my ear. “You keep talking about your sexual deviance, baby, and we’re about to become intimately acquainted.” God, he hast an impossible one-track mind, and he’s right. If we keep talking about this, I’m about to forget that broken kneecap and mount him right here. “And plus, baby, it’s not as if this would be the first time you’ve stayed overnight with me. The only difference is that, this time, I’ll remember it.”
Usually, something like that would be a total turnoff, but it causes me to laugh. I lean back from him, trying not to smile at his mischievous grin. “Yeah, I spent the night with you, Branson. Although it wasn’t all sex and passion.”
He frowns, and I nod, giving him a sorry smile.
“Yep, after we spent all that time discussing the problems in our lives, I helped you to your room. And like any Good Samaritan, I stuck around, afraid you’d choke on your own vomit and suffocate while you were passed out on the bed. The same bed on which I slept on top of the covers. Sorry to report, nothing happened that night, honey.”
His expression shifts, and I regret teasing him about that night. I know he was in a bad place, and I have a feeling he’s still healing from the things that plagued him, so I lift his chin until he reaches my gaze, my expression softening.
“Do you really remember nothing about that night? The first thing you said to me when I sat down at the bar was ‘Why didn’t you splurge for new tits to go along with that rock?’”
He laughs, and I shove his shoulder back against the recliner. “I guess I’m not quite as charming when I’ve downed half a bottle,” he says, glancing at my chest appreciatively. “And apparently, I lose my eyesight, because there is definitely nothing wrong with your ti…uh, those.”
“Nice save. And thank you. Trust me. That night didn’t come without its lessons. Even drunk, you’re pretty observant. That ring wasn’t me. It never was. I thought the ring was extravagant, but that’s the type of man Benjamin is. All about appearances. It wasn’t until you took one look at it and threw a ‘trophy bitch’ label at me that I began to question everything. And even though you were drunk as sin and I was pissed off, you were right. It may have taken me months, but I probably have you to thank for running away that day. I knew what he wanted in a wife, and I came this close to becoming a Stepford replica. If you hadn’t planted those seeds in my head, then I’d be on my honeymoon, having just thrown away the rest of my life.”
A chill runs through me as he runs his fingers up and down my arm. “And you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be with me.”
I laugh softly. “I guess not. And being right here, right now? I know it’s weird, but it feels right, and I’m glad you don’t want me to leave.”
He kisses the top of my head, and the act is comforting. “I’m glad you don’t want to. Because having you here? It does feel right. And for over a week, you’ve kept the loneliness at bay. I’ve smiled more in a week than I have in months. Probably years, even.”
Sitting up, I turn to look at him. “That’s kind of what scares me. I left Atlanta because I was someone I didn’t want to be anymore. I wanted to find myself. Find my strength. But now that I’ve found you, I’m not sure what I’m looking for anymore. And when the day comes that I have to leave, I don’t know that I’ll be able to.” I swallow hard and look away, hoping I’m not saying too much. But there’s this undeniable pull between us, and I don’t want to spend this time faking it.
Regardless what he says, he’s not pretending with me.
He tilts my head until I meet his eyes. “Hey, no one’s saying anything about leaving. Let’s just… Let’s take it day by day. I have all the time in the world, Ari.”
“What are you saying, Branson?” I ask, searching his eyes, needing him to spell it out for me.
“Well… I guess what I’m saying is let’s do this. I thought I could pretend with you, but I don’t think that’s possible. I want you. Here, in my house, in my bed, for long as I can have you. I know this thing is temporary. And I’m okay with that. Permanent’s not in the cards for me any longer. But at least you and I? Well, we have no time limit.” He grabs my hand and holds it up between us. “Be my temporary fiancé, for real.”
This is crazy. Insane, even. And if my parents had any idea what I’m contemplating, they’d threaten to have me committed. But you know what? For the first time in my life, I’m cutting through the caution tape, ready to explore this unchartered territory, no matter what danger may lie on the other side. So, for the second time tonight, I agree.
“Yes, Branson, I’ll be yours…temporarily.”
I hesitate on the last word. I already know this feeling is something I could get used to, and I’m not sure temporary will be in my vocabulary for long.
AFTER OUR conversation, Branson cooled the jets, and I was appreciative for it. Light and fun was what I needed, so when he turned on a South Park marathon, I snuggled up against his chest and enjoyed the feel of his laughter causing it to rumble underneath me even though I was skeptical about watching a cartoon.
Unsurprisingly, his mom stops by with dinner, which we both eat with gusto after having suffered a week’s worth of hospital food. The rest of the night is spent watching television, and it’s hands down the most comfortable date setting I’ve ever been in. I’m used to being stuffy, charity arm candy on boring trips to the opera. Hell, now that I think back on it, I can’t even remember if Benjamin and I ever even went to a movie just for fun.
