I shake my head. I need to say it. If I say it now, she'll understand where I'm coming from. We can put the embarrassment she felt when she was a teenager behind us and start over.
I want that fresh start. I need it. I spent more than an hour yesterday telling Mavis about Brynn. She said that as much as she wishes she was forty years younger, she wants me to be happy and Brynn sounds like the woman to make it happen. I'm not convinced of that. I'm attracted to her but goddammit this woman hates the fuck out of me right now.
"I'm sorry, Brynn," I say it loud enough that I know she can hear it over the incessant hum of the machine. "I fucked up. I never meant to hurt you. Forgive me. Please."
She slows. She finally slows to a fast walk before she takes the tempo down even more. It's then that she looks at me.
Her expression is impassive. Her eyes scan my face looking for something. It might be more details, but I'm not going to drag up the past to humiliate her. We both know what happened that night.
I was in the kitchen of the apartment Julian had bought right before his birthday. We'd graduated from college a few months before, but our partying days weren't behind us. Julian reached out to a few guys he still hung out with from school and told them to bring whoever the hell they wanted. The alcohol was on his dime so the party grew and Brynn, who showed up unexpectedly with a friend from high school, ducked into the kitchen to steal another splash of vodka for her orange juice.
I caught her. I took the bottle away from her, she slurred out a few sentences about me being a big bully before her words and the look on her face shifted to something else.
She reached up, grabbed my shoulders, leaned in and closed her eyes.
I admit I considered kissing her.
She was seventeen.
I was twenty-two.
Taya Morgan was in the next room waiting for me. She was my girlfriend at the time.
I called a car service and when I stood on the curb outside the building watching Brynn and her friend drive away, I felt like shit. She was one month, two days and ten minutes away from being eighteen. She was also the younger sister of my best friend.
I was a lifetime away from understanding what I let slip through my fingers that night.
She steps off the treadmill and stands in front of me. The angles of her face may have changed since that night and her brow has softened, but she's just as beautiful now as she was then.
"You're actually sorry for what you did?" Her gaze drifts over my chest before it lands on my face. "Do you know how much it hurt me, Smith?"
"I do," I admit on a sigh. "I never meant to cause you pain, Petal. I need you to know that."
She bites her bottom lip as she studies my face. "You stole my dream, Smith. You just took it and stomped all over it."
I don't know what to say. I've thought about that night from time-to-time, but over the years it became a distant memory. When I found out from Julian that Brynn was planning her wedding, I admit I considered reaching out to her to see if any of the sparks that were there that night still existed. I dropped thethought from my mind as soon as I realized that her happiness isn't something I want to fuck around with.
If kissing me was her dream, I'm about to make it a reality.
"I tried to right my wrong the other day. I'm going to do it now." I reach down and grab her hip, pulling her closer.
"How are you going to right your wrong?" She whispers as she looks up at me with those intense blue eyes. "Some things can't be fixed."
I run my tongue over my top lip. "Let me try and fix this."
I lean down, anticipation coursing through my body. My dick stiffens. My senses shift to high alert. I smell the soft scent of her perfume, catch a quick glimpse of her pebbled nipples under her sports bra and I swear she moans when I cup the back of her neck with my palm.
"Do you really think a kiss will fix this, Smith?"
It's a start. We're both adults now, so a nice long fuck will chase the bad memories away, but I'm a gentleman.
Kiss first. Fuck second.
"You've wanted to kiss me for eight years," I whisper against the shell of her ear. "I've wanted it too."
She pushes hard against my chest with both hands, separating us instantly. "I've wanted to kiss you for eight years? Says who?"
"You?" I shrug. She plays the part of the wounded heroine like an Oscar winner. "You wanted me when you were a teenager. You want me now. Nothing's changed. "
