Four Letter Word (Dirty Deeds 1)

He grinned then, full lips stretching wide, and it was so beautiful I couldn’t keep my eyes narrowed for fear I’d miss the full impact of a grin like that.

My face relaxed, my breath left me in a whoosh, and the flip and twist happened, right on cue.

“What?” Brian asked after I kept staring silently.

I swallowed.

“I just love you,” I said with a quiet voice, shrugging. “That’s all. Nothing new, it’s just, I’m feeling it on a deeper level right now. You’re hitting my soul. No one’s ever hit that.”

His grin wavered, softening to something equally beautiful.

“Come here,” he murmured.

I bit my lip.

“Um …” I looked down at my thighs pressing together then back up at him. “I’d love to, so much, but I need to get cleaned up. And I need to get Sir before he destroys something.”

He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, keeping his eyes on me.

“Handle what you need to handle in there, then I want you back in this bed and in my arms. I got Sir.”

He stood, grabbed his boxers off the floor, and started pulling them on.

I stared at Brian while he did this, running my gaze over his hard body and appreciating the view.

His muscled back, leaned out hips, and fantastic ass, sculpted to perfection.

Damn.

I was totally an ass girl now. Not that I’d ever heard women declaring something like that before, that was typically a guy thing, but if the trend ever picked up for the female population, I knew where I stood.

Sir barked again at the door and scratched once more on the wood. He was growing impatient.

Instinctively, I turned to let him in.

“Go,” Brian said with a firm tone, halting me and reminding me of my instructions. He snapped the band of his boxers against his stomach and moved around the bed.

I stepped inside the bathroom and quickly cleaned myself up before pulling on my panties. After a quick check on my reflection in the mirror, finger-combing my roughed-up locks and wiping underneath my bottom lip, where my rose-tinted ChapStick had smudged, I cut the light and went back out into the bedroom.

Both of my boys were on the bed, as expected.

Brian was on his side with his arm out, pushing Sir back when he got too close but doing it gently and in a way Sir found playful.

He was growling back at Brian, bouncing swiftly right and then left, trying to pounce on him from every angle and getting denied, his little stubbed tail wagging back and forth at a rapid pace.

I smiled at the two of them as I came to my side of the bed.

Bending, I grabbed the top I’d been wearing all day and slipped it on, planted my knee on the edge of the bed, put my weight on it, and was pulling up my other knee to climb on when my cell rang.

“Shoot.”

I rocked back, getting to my feet again, walked over to where my phone was charging on the dresser, saw the caller’s name flashing on the screen, and left it to ring, returning to the bed.

“Who is it?” Brian asked, pushing Sir away again.

I shook my head. “No one I want to talk to right now.”

Brian kept looking at me after I sat on the bed and started playing with Sir. I could feel his attention, then our eyes locked and he asked, “Who?” in a way I knew he was thinking it was Marcus calling. His tone was flat and uninterested but had an edge to it.

He hated Marcus, for reasons justified and ones he couldn’t explain.

I understood it.

When you loved someone, they became your only and you wanted to be theirs, but the reality was sometimes you could only be their now and possibly their forever if you were lucky enough, but you could never be their only.

Never. These were the facts and they sucked.

However, reality or not, this was something I chose not to believe.

I was Wild. I could do that.

I could never be anyone’s but Brian’s. Not in my heart. Not ever. That was my choice and I was choosing it.

Screw the facts. And screw Marcus. I wouldn’t have answered if it was him calling, now or any other time, but it wasn’t and I didn’t want Brian thinking it was for another second.

“It’s my mom,” I told him, pulling Sir into my lap and kissing the top of his head.

“You’re not gonna answer it?” Brian asked, staying propped up on his elbow. “Thought you said you wanted her to know about us and what we’re doing.”

He was right. I had said that and it was definitely something I wanted.

I sighed, met his eyes again, and went on to explain, “I do, but it’s our first night in our new house and I don’t want her tainting any of it, and I’m afraid if I talk to her, that’s exactly what she’s going to do.”

Brian reached out, tucked some red behind my ear, dropped his hand to my leg, and gave it a squeeze.

“Been a while since you last spoke to her. She might surprise you.”

“She might not,” I countered.

“You won’t know unless you talk to her, babe,” he argued gently, rubbing his thumb over my skin in a soothing way. “I get why you’re avoiding her, but I know this is important to you. You want her to see what we got and support the life you’re living now. Only way that’s gonna happen is if you share it with her. She’s reaching out. She might stop reaching out at some point. Think about that.”

I thought about it while I scratched the underside of Sir’s neck the way he liked.

Brian was right. Again. If I kept avoiding my mom, she might stop calling altogether, putting even more strain on our relationship and making it harder to build it back up, then I’d be the one struggling to get her on the line.