7 Months (Time for Love 8)

I felt silly, like an unsure teenaged girl, but I was dying to know what was going on. What had brought him here tonight? What had changed, if anything?

Brady slouched back against the cushions, his hand rubbing absently along the fur lining of my blanket. Watching him, my body seemed to come to life, tingling as if he were caressing my skin, instead of the blanket.

“I told him a little, but not the whole story. He thinks about me the way you do.”

“How’s that?”

“Like I’m closed off. Hard to get to know. Keep people at arms’ length.”

His response shocked the shit out of me.

“Do you think you do that?” I asked, afraid to move. Afraid to breath. Afraid he’d realize what was happening and shut down on me.

Rather than shut down, he brought his dark gaze to mine and worried his lower lip.

“Yes,” he said simply, then he leaned forward so that he was a few breaths away. “I know that I do that, and I don’t want to … not with you. I want to try and change, but I’m not sure how.”

My pulse started drumming excitedly, and I wanted to jump into his arms and pepper him with kisses.

Instead, I remained calm and approached him like I would a wild animal, with a soft tone.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to figure it all out now,” I assured him. “But it makes me really happy that you’re willing to try.”

“It does?” he asked, his face adorably unsure. “This is what you want?”

“It is,” I admitted with a nod. “I just want the chance to get to know you better, and hopefully, have an actual relationship, not just a physical one. Is that what you’re asking?” I asked, suddenly nervous that I was reading too much into his sudden candor. “To date … to be out in the open with everyone?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m asking,” Brady said, leaning back again and resting his head against the back of the sofa. “I have to warn you though, I’m probably going to be terrible at it, and mess shit up.”

I chuckled at his admission, then told him seriously, “I don’t need or expect you to be perfect, Brady. I just want you to be you.”

“That I can do,” he said wryly, then closed his eyes and sighed audibly.

My mind was racing, trying to memorize and catalog everything Brady had said since he’d shown up. I was afraid to believe him, afraid that maybe this was the result of him drinking too much at poker night, and the harsh reality of morning would bring back old, closed-mouthed, Brady.

My gaze flitted over him, and when I saw his eyes were still closed, I took the opportunity to get my fill of him. Tall, rugged, and handsome in a dark, mysterious sort of way, he was the kind of man I’d always fantasized about, but never thought I could ever have. Not even when I was with him.

I worried over what would hap

pen tomorrow. What our friends would say if we actually started dating. What his brothers would say, and God, my parents. Would they welcome our relationship, or would it be too weird?

I didn’t care about the age difference, or the differences in our jobs and pay grades, but I still didn’t know how Brady felt about those things. How he’d feel about meeting my traditional, conservative parents.

Maybe I’m overthinking things too much…

Brady’s breaths deepened, and I knew he’d fallen asleep. I thought momentarily of waking him up and telling him to come to bed, but then thought better of it. If he was lying next to me there was no way in hell I’d keep my hands to myself. Shoot, I was fighting the urge to straddle him on the couch…

Control yourself, Ming.

I stood quickly, resolved to the fact that I’d be sleeping alone again tonight. Reaching down, I lifted his legs off the floor and turned, hoping momentum would be on my side and he’d lay down and be more comfortable. Once his legs were in place, I leaned over and pulled his top half into laying position with a grunt of exertion.

Once I’d pulled the blanket back down off the back of the couch to cover Brady, I indulged myself for a moment and pushed his hair gently off of his forehead. When he didn’t rouse, I leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his lips, before standing back up and whispering, “Goodnight, Brady.”

Then I shuffled across the loft to my bed. Once I was in and under the covers, I turned on my side so that my eyes landed on the shape of Brady sleeping on my couch, then I closed my eyes and prayed that when the sun came up in the morning, we’d still be on the same page.

Chapter Seventeen ~ Brady

I blinked a few times as my brain tried to wake up, then turned my head when, rather than stretching across my bed, my leg fell and my foot hit the floor.