“Don’t be sorry. Come here.” He wraps his arms around my waist and gently slides me over until I’m sitting square between his legs. “I’ll keep you safe.”
My entire body goes rigid.
“It’s okay,” he whispers, pulling my shoulders into his chest until I slowly melt into him. His hand grazes my thigh, and a quick pulse of spasms go off deep inside me.
Oh God. I let out a tiny yelp as I break out in a rash of what can only be explained as spontaneous orgasms.
Crap, crap, crap! Stupid,stupidbody.
“I hope you don’t mind me holding you.” He offers a dimpled grin, and my girl parts give a squeeze of approval. “Plus, I can see you better this way.” He rubs his cheek over the top of my head, and I twist in his arms to look up at him.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re about to morph into the big bad wolf?” I lower my lashes as the words struggle from my throat. I’m far too close to him to be speaking, let alone breathing, and, God forbid, having multiple O’s between his kneecaps. This is everything I’ve wanted, and, strangely, I’m more than afraid.
“I promise you I’m nothing like the big bad wolf.” He rubs my back with his hand, and I gasp. “Hey, you’re shaking.” Bryson warms me with his oven-heated palms and creates enough friction to spark a thousand mini earthquakes between my legs. “I’ll keep you toasty.”
I give a shy smile. I don’t dare confess that I’m not that cold—that I’m gloriously terrified as to where the night might lead—that my girl parts are just begging to extend an invitation for him to create friction elsewhere andcomeinside.
And, if the night leads in the right direction—he will.
“Back at the restaurant I asked you what you were afraid of.” I let it hang there because he happened to follow that up with “me,” and I’d like for him to expand on the concept. “Tell me what you’re afraid, Bryson.” I snuggle into his chest and look up at him as the moonbeams shine right through his prism-like eyes. I like it like this with Bryson. For the first time, it feels like we’re a couple.
“It’s nothing.” He runs his tongue slowly over his bottom lip while staring off ahead at the steaming hot spring. “I guess at the end of the day I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“Hurt anyone?” I pull back to examine him for a second. “You don’t strike me as a monster.”
“Yeah, well, the jury is still out on that one.”
“I don’t believe it for a second.” I tweak his ribs, and he bucks into me with his lips curled.
“Whoa.” Bryson tightens his fingers around my waist as a devilish grin takes over. “You just started a war, princess. You sure you want to go there?”
“Don’t you dare!” My elbows crowd over my sides as I try to push his hands away. “I’m deathly ticklish, and I’ll scream my head off if you eventhinkabout doing that.”
“All right.” A dull laugh brews in his chest. “I’ll let you slide just this once. Be warned, you tickle me again, and it’s on.”
“You know what that sounds like?” I cock my head at him, teasing him as my hips nestle over his crotch.
“Like the threat is was?” He gives that cocky smile I’ve come to know and love.
“No, it sounded an awful lot like a dare. Like a doubledogdare.” I pinch his waist, and he jumps before running his fingers over my ribs then riding up just beneath my arms.
“Okay!” I scream through laughter. “You win!” I fall back onto the boulder, and he rolls on top of me, refining his torment technique.
“Say uncle.” His head moves over mine as the heavens spray out behind him, and I always want to remember him this way—happy, with a crown of stars over his head.
“Uncle!”
“Say Bryson’s the best.” He slows his movements while I try to catch my breath.
“Bryson is the best.” It gurgles from my throat with a screaming laugh. “You’re great—I’m not.” My hands track down low on his waist, and he catches me by the wrists.
“I think you’re pretty great, Baya,” he whispers just over my lips. His heated breath rakes over me like the blast from an oven, and I take his weight as he presses his body to mine. Our eyes lock with a magnetic pull. I pluck my hand free and touch the back of his neck, encouraging him to meet my lips.
“Baya,” he whispers, closing his eyes momentarily. “Don’t fall for me. I’m not worth it.” A tragedy plays out over his features that I wish I could understand.
“I think you’re more than worth it.” I pant. “Do you think I’m worth it?” If he says no then I’ll let this go, but there’s something special between us, and if I can’t deny it how can he?
“You’re worth everything,” he whispers, gently brushing the hair from my eyes. “It’s me—I’m not worth the risk.”
