302 Forbidden Ave. (A Cherry Falls Romance)

I told him about how it was just my father and me, how my mother passed away shortly after I’d been born, and how my dad had been so devastated he’d thrown himself into anything that could take his mind off his heartache. Even over two decades later, my father still had a broken heart. Then again, that's what true love did to a person. When they lost the one they cared about above all else, their world was dark and bleak and never the same.

I forgot we were in a crowded restaurant, because our conversation was intimate and perfect, and it was like Braxton only saw me. It was like his world revolved around me.

Once we were done eating, Braxton paid the bill, and we walked through the restaurant and out the front doors. I felt a tingle of awareness when he held the door open for me with one hand and placed his other on the small of my back. His palm was big and warm and reassuring, and I swallowed the sudden wave of desire that pushed everything else I felt aside.

We stopped by his truck, and like the gentleman he’d been all night, he opened the door for me and helped me inside, shutting it softly behind me and walking around the front before climbing in himself. My place was close to the restaurant, so the drive was—unfortunately—far too short. He pulled into the driveway and left the truck idling.

“Can I walk you to your front door?”

I didn’t want my smile to be so big, didn’t want him to know how much I liked him offering, but… too late. I looked like a damn fool for how wide my grin was. I got myself under control and nodded. “Yeah,” I said softly. “I’d like that, Braxton.” I’d like that probably more than is normal.

My hand went to the door handle, but the pointed glare he gave me had me chuckling and lifting my fingers away. I was all about female equality, but I’d be lying if I didn't admit letting Braxton take these liberties—being chivalrous—made me feel all kinds of special. I’d take this kind of attention from him all day, every day.

He helped me out of the passenger side, and before I could even take a step, he reached down and took my hand in his. Another jolt of electricity slammed into me, and I craned my head to look up at him from under my lashes. He was already watching me, this look of pure possessiveness on his face as he stared into my eyes. If he didn’t have a firm hold on my hand, I knew my knees would have buckled out from under me at how much I wanted to be his.

Once we reached the front door—which, once again, was too short a walk for my taste where spending time with Braxton was concerned—I turned and looked up at him. He still held my hand, and I liked the fact that he seemed to not be able to let go.

My heart was in my throat as I thought about him leaning down, me rising up, and our lips meeting in the middle. God, I want that. I really want that, and by the way he keeps looking at my lips, I feel like he wants that too.

“I guess this is goodnight,” I said softly, my voice having this sensualness to it. Even I heard it, but I couldn’t care enough to worry about it. I didn’t care how desperate it sounded.

His gaze went from my eyes back to my lips. His body was so big that it was impossible not to take notice I was tiny in comparison. I was soft where he was muscular. I was curvy where he was rock-hard.

“I’d really like to see you again,” he said, lifting his eyes to mine. “How would you feel about that?”

I nodded, because yeah, that was exactly what I wanted.

“You would like that?” he murmured, eyes right back on my mouth. I felt his gaze and licked my lips as they tingled from the weight of his stare.

I nodded again, unable to find my voice.

He took a step closer, sliding the hand that held mine over my wrist, along my forearm, and let go of me for only a second to curl those big fingers along my hip. “Is this okay?”

I swallowed and nodded. It’s more than okay.

He groaned softly, his fingers tightening for just a second before they relaxed again. “Then tell me you want to see me again, Amelia.” His voice was deceptively soft, but I heard the roughness in it. “I need to hear you say it.” He took another step closer, our chests brushing together.

I sucked in a breath. Could he feel my heart beating hard against my ribs? Our chests were pressed right together, so how couldn’t he?