Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
I want to snatch the word back the moment I throw it out there, but Braden nods. He nods quickly, a matter of fact, the same way people do when you tell them it’s raining.
It’s a yeah-no-shit nod.
It’s a nod that tells me he doesn’t even have to wonder if he feels the same, doesn’t have to ponder it for more than a moment.
“I’ve never liked that word,” he says, “but I know exactly what you mean. There’s no other way to describe it.”
“Well, I’m not a gold digger, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I tell him. “In fact, speaking of this date, I’d be happy to share a pizza at my place. Really.”
He glances at me, the corner of his lips twitching. “I know you would. But you deserve better than that. That’s the thing, Bria. I always knew you weren’t like that. I always knew you wanted me the same way I want you, but it’s hard to let go of stuff like this sometimes.”
I reach over and touch his arm, squeezing down so I can feel every corded muscle pushing against my palm.
“I know. But I swear it’s not like that. The first time I knew you were the one for me, I didn’t even know you were famous.”
“What do you mean?”
Confusion twists through his voice.
Heck.
Why did I have to say that?
I withdraw my hand. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s clearly not nothing,” he says. “Come on, my shy beautiful sassy virgin. What did we say about honesty?”
Swallowing, I let my eyes roam over the highway, over the road ahead of us, as I try to work out how I’m going to tell Braden about my crush.
Chapter Fourteen
Braden
She talks quietly, my perfect woman, her tone low.
But even with this new revelation taunting me – all the possibilities stacking up – I can’t fight down the surging contentment that settles through me with more certainty each second.
She feels the same.
She wants me the same way I want her.
We’re going to have a family, a future.
A life.
“My parents died when I was six,” she says quietly.
I reach over and place my hand atop hers, which is on her leg, pushing down so she can feel the pressure on the back of her hand and her thigh. I push hard, firm, letting her know I’m here – I’ll always be here.
“There was this big plane crash. You might’ve heard of it. Anyway, they were two of the passengers. I was staying with a family friend, but heck, they already had four children of their own and they weren’t going to adopt me. Anyway, I ended up in the orphanage and I always felt so lost.”
“I’m sorry, Bria.”
The unfairness of her situation makes my chest tighten, my words coming out a growl. I envision a scared lonely little girl and my gut twists, certainty rising inside of me – certainty that we will never let our children know what it’s like to grow up alone, to want for love, any of that.
She shakes her head. “It was a long time ago. It’s okay.”
I wait for her to go on, my heart drumming loudly as I curse the fact we’re on the highway.
I need to be alone with my woman, to comfort her…
And then take her, fuck her brutally, fuck her like she deserves.
I try to quiet the savage voice inside of me, the constant inner monologue that never lets me rest, never lets me forget just how badly I need my woman.
But this isn’t about sex.
This is about her emotions, her history, and I owe it to her to stomp down the primal hungry parts of myself. For now at least.
“Anyway, the point is, when I was in high school this charity brought a bunch of boxes to the orphanage. There was lots of random stuff in there, like little bracelets and trinkets and things like that. And there was this poster… it was a poster of you.”
She glances at me, as though I’m going to be pissed.
“You basically became my crush, big time, and all through high school I use to dream about you, what it would be like to meet you, stuff like that.”
“But you didn’t know I was famous?” I ask, remembering her last comment.
“Oh, well, no… not at first. Somebody had ripped the bottom of the poster. Or it was damaged when they delivered it. Whatever happened, it didn’t have your name on it and I didn’t recognize you. I thought you were just a model. But there was something in your eyes, Braden, something that made me feel instantly connected to you. I can’t explain it.”
“You don’t have to,” I tell her. “I know what you mean. It’s the same way I felt when I saw you.”
“Aren’t you angry?” she murmurs.
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Why would I be?”