My jaw is clenched so tight, I wouldn’t be surprised if I cracked a couple teeth. But I’m determined to get over this bump in the road with her, so I push the feelings down.
“That’s good. And I guess you’re probably right. I was just missing those good parts. You never tell me anything like that.”
“I’m not a braggy person though.”
“I know you’re not. So, I get it. Alright?”
She looks down at her hands, like she wants to say more.
Her voice is less steady than before. “I don’t like fighting with you,” she whispers so quietly I can barely even hear her.
“I don’t either. I’m sorry for overstepping.” The words scrape against my tongue before coming out.
“It’s okay. I know you just care about me. You’re like another brother.”
Ouch. Brother? Please.
“Another brother you don’t necessarily need, right?” I laughit off, just like I always do.
She snickers and shifts in her seat, just as the combine rocks slightly. We both reach to steady ourselves, our hands brush against each other’s for only a second, but it felt longer.
“Sorry.” She laughs.
If she only knew every random touch from her jolts something inside me that I have continuously had to ignore.
Chapter 15
Addison
Two Months Later
Brantley’s hand sneaks up my shirt and rests on my back. I shift in his lap, bringing our bodies closer together. His fingers trace over my skin, and it sends a slow chill through my body.
As he deepens our kiss, I can feel the urge in his hands to touch more of me. They slowly come around my rib cage, cold but warming against my skin.
He slides the flannel down my arms and then pulls my tank top over my head, tossing it onto the floor before pulling me on top of him and onto the couch. I don’t like being exposed like this, it’s awkward and a little uncomfortable. But our lips never leave one another’s. His hands move lower, his fingers tucking in the top of my pants. He starts to tug them and the siren in my head screams louder at me.
“Brantley.” I grab his hands, stopping him.
“What?”
“No.” I laugh.
“C’mon, it’s our anniversary,” he pleads.
I sigh. “I don’t want to.” I’m holding my breath. I feel bad; I know I shouldn’t, but I do.
He groans. “Then why were you texting me like that today?”
“I thought we were just being fun.”
“You can’t get me all worked up like that and then back out.” He sits up.
“Uh, I think Ican,” I argue, brows raised.
“Well, it’s rude.”
I sit up. “It’s also rude to guilt someone into doing something they don’t want to do.”
