Unspoken Vow (Steele Brothers 2)

“We’re great at this not-making-things-awkward thing, huh?” Brody jokes, and I manage to huff a laugh.

“How … uh, did this happen?” I have a feeling all the non-sleeping I’ve been doing might’ve caused me to perhaps black out, but I can’t for the life of me imagine a world in which I’d let myself do that in front of someone else other than Law.

Brody wiggles beneath me, and oh, yeah, I’m still on top of him. I sit up, and he follows, stretching his impressive muscles as he does.

“You looked pretty wrecked. I asked you a few times if you wanted to go back to bed and you said no.”

I must’ve been more out of it than I thought. Since the other night where Brody broke the lock on my door, I’ve been waiting until he slips out for work so I can relax enough to drift off. By the time I do fall asleep, it’s not long until my alarm goes off and I have to drag myself out of bed to get to work.

Which is why falling asleep on him doesn’t make any sense.

It’s been about a week of hardly enough sleep, so granted, I was tired, but the reason for the lack of sleep somehow became the cure? I don’t understand.

At all.

Maybe I’ve reached that point where it’s all getting on top of me. I got called out at work yesterday for inverting some numbers, which happens sometimes in general, but never with me.

I have a meticulous eye for detail when it comes to numbers, and I think the only reason my accounting firm didn’t fire me a few years ago when all the major shit went down is because I’m good at my job … when I turn up.

I could see the concern in my boss’s eyes when I told her I hadn’t gotten much sleep and would catch up this weekend. Like a few years ago when I needed a heap of time off, excuses of little sleep, personal issues, and sickness were the norm. I think she was a second away from asking if everything was all right, but I hightailed it out of her office, because I’d have no idea how to answer that.

“When you fell asleep, you kind of slumped over and used my shoulder as a pillow,” Brody says. “I again asked if you wanted to go to bed, but instead … you, uh … you asked me to stay.”

“I did?”

Brody’s face pales. “Shit, did I do something wrong? Like, was I supposed to not let that happen or—”

“No, it’s fine. I … I guess I’m surprised. I didn’t think I’d be comfortable enough around anyone to …”

“It was just sleep, Anders. It’s okay.”

But it’s not okay. This has to mean something, right? That maybe not all hope is lost?

“Anders?”

My gaze flicks to Brody’s. The striking contrast between the brown hair and light eyes is usually the thing that takes me off guard. Not this time.

This time it’s the deep worry in his eyes. The fear he did something wrong. Brody doesn’t understand that he’s somehow done something right. I just don’t know what it is.

I want to know so I can get him or anyone else to replicate it. “I want to try something.”

“What?”

Ignoring morning breath, the crick in my neck from using Brody as a pillow the last few hours, and all the rest of the bullshit, I lean forward and capture his mouth with mine.

It only lasts a second or two before Brody pushes me back. “Wait, wait, wait. Anders, we’ve already done this.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to stop this time.”

“I don’t want to hurt you or do something that makes you tense up in the way you do.”

“You won’t.” I wince. “Okay, I know you won’t intentionally. I can step out of my issues long enough to know that if I’m being rational, you’re someone I should be able to trust. But that’s just it—I haven’t been with anyone since the attack where rationality has outweighed the anxiety. And you’re … I don’t know what you are, but I have to know.”

Brody blinks up at me as he contemplates what I’ve said. Apparently it’s good enough for him. He moves closer, and this time—for the first time ever—he’s the one who closes the gap between us.

It’s almost an immediate switch. From thinking I can do this to knowing I’m screwed. Literally two seconds ago, I was begging for more.

Now that it’s happening, my body’s protesting and my brain’s screaming that I fucked up.

Instead of enjoying the sensations of his dominating kiss, I can’t let go. All those insecurities, my past demons, my inability to relinquish control … they don’t allow me.

I thought—no, I hoped—it would be different with him. I’ve had glimpses of what it would be like to do this with Brody, and the level of comfort I have with him confuses me.