“Probably too much,” I confess, and he smiles brighter.
“Me?” he says, “I wasn’t always this person.” He stumbles over his words, and it’s unusual because he’s typically so calm and collected. “At seventeen, I was scared all the time, angry because my parents didn’t want kids anymore, helpless and undereducated to care for Day.”
I’m starting to understand what he’s trying to convey.
“I’m older, smarter, less scared,” he admits. “Can’t say the anger got better, it's just weaponized now. I know that if I ever saw my parents again I’d fucking kill them.” The honesty is terrifying, but he never breaks eye contact as he speaks. “I likeyou,”he says.
“Me.” I nod, understanding now.
“Yeah,” he hums, “Hellcat. You.” He kisses me gently, “Intelligent, funny, chaotic, messy and a little scary.” He continues to pepper open-mouthed kisses down my jaw and throat. “I like that you keep me on my toes.”
“That’s a polite way of saying I’m crazy.” I sigh, wrapping myself around him and resting my forehead against his chest.
“It is.” Brighton agrees.
I snap my head up, and he catches my jaw between his hands, “but I likeyou.”
“You keep saying that,” I whisper.
“Do you believe me yet?” he asks, his lips brushing slowly against mine, softer than before. His nose traces upward, and he kisses my top lip and then my cheek and temple.
“You might have to say it a couple more times,” I tease.
His mouth finds my ear lobe, his teeth tickling my skin, “I really like you.” He pulls back to look at me as I lift my fingers to trace his lips, as I think about how serious he sounds. “Rhea,” he whispers.
“You know you’d look really handsome with a mustache,” I study his face as my brows come together. My brain is just blurting crap to keep from overloading on how I feel when he watches me like this. I can hear Kaiaclimb him like a tree, but make sure that’s all you do.
“Never going to happen.” He denies me without even cracking a smile.Well, that prevents me from falling in love according to her list… easy.
“Boo,” I pout.
He takes advantage of it, dipping down and kissing me so hungrily that he has to steady me in his arms. My fingers push into his hair, and his tongue slides into my mouth. I pull gently and feel his smile grow against my lips as his hands roam up my back and press me flush to him.
Climb him like a tree.
“Hey, Brighton,” I break the kiss to catch my breath. “How come you haven’t…” I stumble over the words, “you know tried to—”
“Have sex with you?” He finishes my sentence. It’s the perfect opportunity, the apartment is empty, every makeout gets closer and closer to us crossing that line, but he always slows down, pulls back, goes cold.
“Yeah,” I swallow as his eyes flicker over my face.
“Sex ruins friendships,”he pauses.
“I think we’re past friendship, aren’t we?” I hum impatiently.
“I just want to take it slow, make it right,” he explains.
I stare at him, watching the way his jaw clenches, the muscle flicking tightly as he waits for my response. I understand what he’s saying, but I’m so sick of crawling into bed alone when he’s right here, and I’m begging to be touched just a little more.
But he’s trying to be a gentleman, and if it were anyone else, I’d be pissed that all they wanted was in my pants.I just can’t think straight around him.
“Alright,” I agree. “But—” I curl my fingers into the collar of his shirt and bring him eye level with me. “I want a proper make-out tonight, hands wandering, lines crossed. Do you hear me?” I order. He scoops down, lifting me with such ease, and carries me to his room with a smug look on his face.
“I hear you, Hellcat.” He laughs, kicking his door shut.
“Did you see the girls won their game?” Boone chucks the ball at me, and I pocket it without looking as I stretch my thighs in the grass.
“Yeah, they’re top of the league now.” I lean forward and roll the ball out in front of me. “They have a real shot of taking it all this year.”
