“That makes it even more special.”
I smile. “Yeah, I guess it does.”
Another quiet pause falls over us, and I’m just about to wish her goodnight when she rolls her lips together, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at my truck instead of at me when she asks, “Bear, am I desirable?”
Fuuuuuck me.
The ability to inhale or exhale or do anything at all is stolen with her question, my chest burning with the need to reach for her, pull her into me, and show her just how desirable she is. If I had my chance to have a real night with her, not like the one we had where we were both too drunk to remember, but a real night, she’d never even think of asking that question.
She wouldn’t have to.
She’d already know.
My throat is tight, nostrils flaring when I finally blow out a breath, and I slide my hands into my pockets to keep myself from reaching for her. “Erin, why would you even ask that?”
I mean for it to come off as are you fucking kidding me? Obviously, you are and how do you not already know that? But the way her bottom lip quivers, the way she tucks her chin and shakes her head before lifting her eyes to mine again and forcing a smile, I know I’ve said something wrong.
“No reason,” she whispers. “It was silly to even ask.”
“Erin…” I try, but she sniffs, leaning in to give me such a quick hug I don’t even get my hands out of my pockets to hug her back.
“Goodnight, Bear.”
And before I have the chance to get to the bottom of anything, she’s gone.
Still, I stand there, and I watch her wave at the front desk clerk of the lobby, watch her disappear into the elevator, watch the doors shut and block my view of her sad, broken face.
And I know in my gut the person responsible.
Gavin.
I may not know much past that, but there’s one thing I know for sure.
The sonofabitch is lucky I don’t know where he lives.
Season Finale
NOW WHAT?
It was the question I asked Brandon after we finally stopped playing games and fucked at the South Beach Agency Awards. It was the question I asked myself the next morning, when I woke up tangled in his sheets, feeling like I never left them at all and yet like a complete stranger in a place that once felt like a second home.
And now, two weeks later, I’m left wondering the same thing.
I stretch my arms up over my head and point my toes, feeling the juicy twist as I lean my hips one way and then the other in Brandon’s high-quality Egyptian sheets. When I creak my eyes open, the sun is splaying in through the windows, painting me in a ray of gold.
“I wish I was a painter,” Brandon muses from the doorway.
I smile when I flip onto my side to face him, propping my head up on my palm. “I seem to remember you painting a masterpiece last night,” I say, dragging the tip of my finger down the middle of my chest where he came after I gave him a long, slow blowjob.
Brandon chuckles and shakes his head, crossing the room and handing me one of the two cups of coffee in his hand. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore,” I admit, and I wince a little as I sit up and take the coffee from him. We’ve fucked more than any two humans should naturally be able to in the past two weeks.
Not that I’m complaining.
I eye him with my first sip, taking in his khaki slacks, leather dress shoes, and olive-green button up. “I hate that you’re already dressed.”
“Well, it is Monday.”
I sigh. “It is, isn’t it?”
“I wish I could lie here in this bed with you all day, but we’re both going to be late if we don’t get a move on.” Brandon checks the watch on his wrist, and then his warm eyes are on me again. “Come back for dinner after?”
I chuckle. “I should just pack a bag.”
“Maybe you should pack all of them.”
I pause with my coffee mug hovering below my lips, heart sluggish in my chest before it kicks to life with a thud. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he says, taking both our coffees and setting them on the bedside table. He folds his hands over mine and leans in close, his breath sweet and warm. “Move in with me.”
I blanch. “Move in?”
Brandon nods. “I know you have a place with Jess and Ashlei, and I know we just made up and there are a lot of things to discuss, but I—”
“Yes.”
He pauses, frowning at me like he can’t be sure he really heard me correctly. “Yes?”
I laugh, pulling my hands from his so I can loop my arms around his neck. “Yes, sir.”