Page 58 of Losing Forever
Braylee takes in a breath, and her features shift as if she's decided something. “The glass door in the back was shattered. The neighbor is having it repaired for me, but I'll have to go there to make sure nothing else was damaged or taken. I need to. It's time I let go of the house and move on. It's been time. I've just been afraid to go back. There are so many memories…”
I don’t know why—maybe because I messed up a minute ago—but my need to take care of her in more than a sexual way kicks in.
I walk over and cup her soft cheek. “I'll go with you. You can show me those trees, and I'll help you pack things up or help however I can.”
Shock and confusion show on her face, rightly so. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I want to.” This kind of trip I can give her. “And because we’re friends. That’s what friends do.”
The wordfriendsfeels wrong each time it leaves my mouth.
“I see.” She's quiet for a long moment, her expression unreadable.
After several anguishing minutes, Braylee takes the folder from my hand and sets it on the dresser. “As much as I would enjoy your company, I don't think it's a good idea. Noah would wonder why you want to come with me, and if we both leave, he'll have to run the business alone. It wouldn't be fair.”
Even though her reasoning makes sense, I think her reaction has more to do with me shooting down France, then offering this and referring to us as friends. Can’t I get anything right?
I walk to her and touch her shoulder because her back is to me. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings with what I said.”
She faces me, her expression composed, although it could be an illusion to make me think she's fine. “You didn't hurt my feelings. You spoke the truth. We are friends. We can only ever be friends. I understand that. This is about Noah and the business.” She slips away from me and opens the door to the small walk-in closet. “Besides, if I go back to Seattle, I should visit with some old friends. I never got to say good-bye to any of them. I just left and I haven't talked to them since.”
Old friends? What if some are old boyfriends?
She rolls a large suitcase out of the closet.
My panic level rises. “How long do you plan to be gone?”
What if one of her exes tries to get her back? What if she asks him to give her an orgasm? What if she decides to stay and never return?
Fuck that. I’m going.
I march over to where she has the suitcase opened on the floor. “I'll handle Noah. Don't worry about him. But I'm not letting you go alone. No way, no how. You're going to need someone. I want to be that someone.”
She glances up at me from where she kneels on the floor, her kissable lips parted with surprise. “I don't know. I—”
Before she can come up with any more excuses, I step over the suitcase between us, haul her to her feet, and claim her lips with a kiss. Her sweet tongue meets mine—tentative at first, then matching my thrusts. She slides her arms around my neck and clings to me, her soft body flush against mine.
When she sighs and then moans in my mouth, I almost throw her onto the bed. Self-control has never been an issue before. I've always been a strong-willed lover, but I've never been lost to anyone.
With Braylee, I can't keep my hands or lips off her. The more I touch and taste her, the more I want her. It's a dangerous path. She deserves careful, and yet all I want to do is devour her, to push her to limits she’s never been, and watch her come undone. I want everything she’ll give me and more, which makes me a selfish prick.
A better man would end this now and save her the pain of what always comes from a relationship with a James. Dad ruined Mom’s life and mine. He ruined his businesses, his future, and his family name. Destruction is in the genes.
All I can offer her is disappointment, and possible harassment from the media. It’s died down since I moved here, but if Braylee were to become a target because of her connection to me, I’d never forgive myself. I’d also end up back in jail for knocking out anyone who invades her space. The thought has me tensing.
Braylee's lips stop moving, or maybe mine did first. What the fuck is wrong with me? Never in my life have I gotten lost in thought while making out with a beautiful woman. Yet with Braylee, I have twice. It's stress. It has to be.
Playing it off, I caress her cheek and kiss her forehead. “So, do you agree I get to be your someone?”
Pale-blue eyes stare at me, seeing right through my charade. “Only if you tell me what's going on in here.” She taps my temple. “Friends open up to friends, Grayson.”
My hand rests on the small of her back where it had snaked under her shirt. I make small circles with my thumb on her warm skin. “It’s family stuff and a little self-analysis. Nothing you can help me with. I need to figure it out myself.”
She nods. “Okay.”
No pressing me for more. No accusing me of holding back. With one word, she proved she's the perfect girl for me. But I’ll never be the perfect guy for her.
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