“Can I have you tonight?” he asked, breathless.
My brain was screaming at me to give in, to rip my panties down my legs and undo his pants . . . but my heart was throbbing painfully, reminding me of the ache only he could produce. “Have you been with anyone else?” I held my breath.
He shook his head. “No. There’s no one else.”
My breath whooshed past my lips as I breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you staying the night?” Cuddling with him was my favorite postsex activity. Sleeping warm and secure in Braydon’s arms made everything okay.
“Of course. After I orgasm, I can pretty much crash anywhere.” He chuckled lightly, looking at me like this was a fact I should know about him by now.
So not what I wanted to hear. I drew a deep breath and took a step back from him. Despite how sweet and attentive he was with me, that was still all this was. He made that crystal clear. This was sex between two consenting adults. Plain and simple. I could take it, or I could leave it. I knew exactly what I needed to do.
I crossed the room and stood at my open bedroom door. “Good-bye, Braydon.”
He adjusted his erection and came to stand next to me, pressing his palm against my cheek. “Kitten?”
“This has got to be fifty-fifty. If you can’t give me what I need, I won’t give you what you want.”
“What are you saying?” His thumb lightly rubbed my cheek.
“This isn’t going to work for me.”
Sad blue eyes met mine. “Understood.”
I wanted him to argue, to fight for me, but I knew that wouldn’t happen. Even more of a reason to let him go.
As I watched him pull his shirt back on over his head, my heart ached painfully in my chest, fearing that this was it. I wondered if this was the last time I would see him.
Without even a last glance my way, Braydon left me in my too-quiet apartment. Naked and alone.
14
Emmy came over a few evenings later to check in on me after my disastrous night with Braydon. We’d just finished giant spinach salads and garlic rolls from the deli downstairs and were sitting cross-legged on my living room floor, casually chatting about life, work, and any other topic that wasn’t my cringe-worthy love life. Thank God.
Never had I felt so out of control, so powerless around a man. Sometimes it infuriated me the way Braydon made me feel. Other times it was so completely blissful that it made my entire life’s outlook brighter. Today was not one of those days. I used to be so fearless giving Emmy advice when it came to Ben. I’d tell her not to take any shit. To not give into his sexual advances—to make him sweat a little. It was so easy from the sidelines. I wasn’t emotionally involved.
Things with Braydon were so much more complicated. I’d inadvertently given him not only my body but also my heart. I knew deep down I was falling for him. I’d fallen for his quick wit and sense of humor, for his sexy confidence, for the way he made me feel about myself. Aside from his commitment issues, he was sweet, a true gentleman. It was dangerous territory, especially because I was damn certain this was all just physical for him. He’d reminded me time and again.
“Sooo,” Emmy began, a hint of concern on her face. “Are we going to talk about it?”
I shrugged. “What’s there to talk about? I caved last weekend—brought him home with me.” It was a low point; that was for certain. It wouldn’t be happening again.
“And what happened? I know you two aren’t back together, so . . . tell me what happened that night. You better spill it, little miss. You know there’s no holding back from me.”
I swallowed my pride. “We started to . . . you know . . .” I wiggled my eyebrows—the universal signal for getting it on. “And then I realized that nothing had changed, I was still nothing more to him than his f**k buddy, and I lost it. I kicked him out of my apartment with a raging erection.” And then cried myself to sleep.
“Wow. You don’t f**k around. I like it, lady.”
I frowned at her. This wasn’t some game—not for me, anyway. I wasn’t trying to whip Braydon into shape. I just couldn’t put myself through the heartache again, so I ended it before it went too far.
“Well, don’t you worry, babe. I know he’s crazy about you. He’s going to come around.”
She sounded so confident, but I was pretty sure there was no chance of that. I’d given him every opportunity in the world.
“Let me ask you something . . .”
I explained about the insight I’d developed while stalking him online—and how I rarely saw him pictured with a girl—except for the one blond-haired girl, Katrina, though I didn’t tell Emmy I knew her. “Did he ever have a serious girlfriend?” I asked.
“I think so. A few years ago. Ben said something about how he’d gotten royally messed up when it ended and he’s really leery about new relationships and letting people in because of a crazy girl he dated a few years ago. That’s all I know.”
“Do you know her name?”
Emmy shook her head. “Let me see the pictures you found.”
I agreed, grabbing my laptop from the counter and logging in. At the first click of my mouse, I knew it was a terrible idea. His face appeared and my heart throbbed painfully in my chest. I missed him. Terribly. That chiseled jawline, his full mouth that used to erupt into a crooked smile with one simple quip. His insanely blue eyes fringed in dark lashes, the rumpled mess of dark hair. Seeing him on my screen wasn’t enough. It didn’t even compare to the real thing. I wanted to press my face into his neck and inhale, wrap my arms around his firm body, feel his gentle caress on my skin, hear the sweet words he would murmur.
Emmy studied each photo along with me, but found nothing even remotely familiar about the girl featured with him.
“So how do you feel?” she asked, nodding once toward my computer screen.
I sighed and thought it over. “I miss him. Too f**king much. And it makes me want to do strange things . . .” I rubbed my temples.
“Like?”
“I want to cook for him, do his laundry, fold his boxers into neat little squares. Something is majorly wrong with me.”
Her expression softened. “Oh honey. You love him.”
“Nooo. That’s not it. I’ve read studies about this. It’s just pheromones. Like some strange chemical reaction that my body has to his. Some people can have this unexplained attraction. Braydon and I obviously have it. That’s all this is. It doesn’t mean we’d even be capable of having a lasting, loving relationship.” I remained objective in my assessment, grasping on to the science of it.