I swipe at my warm cheeks as my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Bram
I know it’s late, but I am craving ice cream. Would you be interested?
I’d love to. I’ll meet you two blocks over.
Bram
I’ll be there in five.
You live fifteen minutes away.
Bram
I was kind of counting on you saying yes.
I smile and wipe more of my tears away and grab a jacket from my apartment before heading down our driveway and making the walk down the neighborhood.
I wrap my arms around myself, fresh emotion hitting me now and then. I refuse to let her words get to me, for her to make me feel like shit. She hates everyone, her own son, her own granddaughter.
Someone so miserable shouldn’t be the one to tell me how I live my life.
The sun has long set, and the cold air permeates around me as I wait for Bram to get here. Truly, it’s not a great night for icecream, but I needed to get out of that situation, and it’s almost like Bram could tell I needed him.
I smile at that as his white SUV parks in front of me.
I open the door and slide into the passenger’s seat, and as soon as I do, Bram is grabbing my face with his massive hand.
“What’s wrong?” he says, and I shake my head. “Sloane,” he says in a deep tone, not an Alpha voice, but still deep enough to do something for me.
“My grandma is in town, and she’s mean as hell. She said some things at dinner that upset me.”
“She made you cry?” he asks, his fingers lightly digging into the soft flesh of my jaw.
I don’t know why, but him asking about it brings even more fresh tears. Bram curses under his breath, removing his hand from my face, which only makes things worse.
But then I realize the only reason he stopped touching me was to move his seat back as far as it can go.
“Come here,” he says, and I don’t know why, but I don’t hesitate as I climb over the center console and fall right into his arms, which he firmly wraps around me.
His hand nearly spans my back as he moves it up and down. I’m not sobbing, but I’m also trying to keep my shit together.
My ear is pressed against Bram’s heart as I grip his shirt like a lifeline. A rumble starts in his chest as he begins purring.
Interesting, so he uses it as a soothing technique and when he’s turned on. Either way, I like it. No, I more than like it. The deep rumble and his thick, earthy scent wrap around me.
I feel safe.
My body relaxes, my eyes aren’t burning anymore, but I soak up all his Alpha goodness. I’m not about to turn down this epic cuddle. He’s so big, warm, and cozy.
“Better?” he asks.
I rub my face against his chest, absently scent marking him.
“Yeah, it’s better.”
He clears his throat and stills for a moment; I realize then I may have been inadvertently grinding on him, and the cab of the car smells more like peaches than masculine citrus.
