Chapter 19
Jana
Michael had just been defeatedfor the umpteenth time, by his seven-year-old niece and her entourage, when I’d taken my final bite of General Tso chicken, while Brycen had left his polished off plate on the coffee table a few minutes ago.
As the end credits rolled on Halloween IV, I washed down my final bite of food with a sip of iced water, feeling Brycen’s eyes on the side of my face.
Fixating on the man, I wondered if I had food on my face, or something more embarrassing was up with my appearance. “What?” I set my plate to the side and proceeded to give my mouth, chin, and cheek another cursory wipe with my napkin.
Brycen simply shook his head, sporting a grin on his mug, his gaze intent on me, a gleam of humor and curiosity in his eyes, as though he was trying to figure something out.
“Brycen,” I urged him, feeling even more self-conscious the longer he remained mum. “What is it?”
He scrubbed at his scruffy chin, the memory of how that scruff had felt so briefly on my face with that peck he’d given me in his office. The thought had my girlie bits warming, my mind wondering how it would feel on other places other than over my chin, my cheeks…
“Just trying to figure you out,” he stated, his index reaching out to flick my nose before he got up from the couch we’d been sharing, and grabbed both our plates, proceeding toward the kitchen.
“What?” I looked at his retreating back quizzically, then got up with his empty drinking glass and mine, following him.
“She’s into slasher flicks, reads risqué romance novels, limits her electronic footprint, turns my dog into a puddle of goo with just a few words, loves her family fiercely, is dedicated to her job in helping random strangers, makes sure I’m fed, and she’s hot as fuck,” he rambled in a mumbled fashion as he stacked our soiled dishes in the dishwasher after having rinsed them, his back still to me. Looking at the ceiling, he sighed heavily before shaking his head, then bending to stuff the last utensil in the washer. “I’m fucking screwed.”
Setting our glasses down on the counter next to where he stood, Brycen startled when I wrapped my arms around him from behind. His warm hand covered both of mine. “I’m trying really hard here to find something about you that will completely turn me off, and thus throw us back onto the platonic side of things, Jana, but for the love of Christ, I can’t,” he confessed, then turned in my arms as soon as I released the hold I had on him so he could face me.
Uh oh.
“Tell me not to, and I won’t,” he whispered, an arm surrounding me, bringing my front flush with his, his face hovering mere inches from mine, eyes searching.
I can’t.
In an instant, his irises turned to molten chocolate, then his lips were on mine, making my world tilt on its axis, propelling me headfirst into Brycen Matthews and all he was willing to offer.
Brycen
Perfection.
Jana gave as much as she took. When my lips met hers this time, it was as if something finally clicked between us.
The feel of her softness against my hard, the willingness to not fight whatever this attraction between us that brewed to a boiling point was overwhelming.
I’m not even sure she knew she’d said those two words aloud: I can’t. The moment they’d escaped that irresistible mouth of hers, it cemented the fact she was open to exploring things on a more intimate level. Whatever fight and reservation that was left in her had simply vanished the moment I’d run my mouth about what I thought of her. I hadn’t figured she’d follow me to the kitchen, so I’d rambled a slew of things I never meant for her ears to hear until I was ready to fully open up.
Steering us backward so my ass hit the counter’s edge, Jana’s hands feathered through the short, cropped hair at the back of my head, her blunt nails digging in, setting my blood on fire.
The moment my hands cupped her ass, gaining a sweet palmful of tush, a throaty moan escaped her, inciting her to rub her chest against mine as if she were a cat in heat.
On a groan of my own, I grabbed her by the ass, she hopped up, and wrapped her legs around me as I reversed our position. Setting her down on the counter, it gained me a hiss once her thighs made contact with the cool granite, thanks to those lounge shorts she was wearing.
Her legs pulled me in, and I could feel her needful heat through our layers of clothes.
“Sweetheart,” I mumbled through kisses, slowing things down slightly, kissing the side of her mouth, making my way to her cheek, lower still to the delicate curve where her neck met her shoulder. “Fuck,” I growled, “I could kiss you forever.”
I pulled away to take in her kiss-swollen mouth, and the scruff burn on her face.
“You kiss like a fucking dream,” she moaned and tried to pull me back to her, and I went willingly, offering her a soft peck. “I think I could come with just your kisses alone.” Her hands lightly slid from my shoulders down the front of my shirt, until she got to its hem, where she surreptitiously began to lift it up my torso as she lined my jaw with kisses.
Assisting her with its removal, chucking the cotton T-shirt to the side, Jana’s face pulled back enough for her eyes to feast on my bared skin, her hands perusing the naked flesh of my chest.
“You’re a work of finely honed art, Brycen Matthews,” she marveled before depositing a soft kiss over my left pectoral.
“And you’re about to take this to a level I never imagined us going tonight,” I groaned when her tongue came out to flick my nipple.
Pulling back again, her eyes met mine, fire alight in her gaze. “I was sitting there”—she delivered a sweet kiss to the side of my mouth before continuing—“thinking I had food on my face, or that a bee’s nest had formed in my hair after having spent the afternoon lazing on your couch.” She kissed the other side. “And then you said those things…” Her voice trailed off, and she swallowed hard.
Cupping her face in my hands, I watched as she struggled with finding the right words, reassuring her with a soft kiss of my own, directly to her mouth.
“You see me,” she whispered, closing her eyes, “and it terrifies the fuck out of me.”
“And why is that?” I asked right as I tilted her head and deposited a kiss to her forehead. I knew her reasoning went beyond her mother’s failed relationship with her father, or any of her unworthy exes.
Finally, gracing me with those emerald orbs of hers, filled with emotion and so much lust I could burst in my pants from looking into them too long, she confessed. “Because you have staying power.”
Jana
“Explain,” Brycen urged. As I tried to evade his eyes, his hands held fast, gently keeping my face aimed toward his eyes, trapping me in his sincere and caring, not to mention, smoldering gaze.
“You’ve stuck around when you could have pawned me off to one of your coworkers. I’ve done nothing but been a train wreck since we met, crying and sniveling all over you,” I bared my shame. “I’ve been cold more than warm toward you, so despite our common interests in something as mundane as slasher flicks, almond chicken guy ding, and General Tso chicken, or pizza and beer, I was failing to see what you see in me.”
When he dropped his hands from the sides of my face in order to cover my hands over his chest, I retreated partially, averting my face.
“When you stated all of those things about me, you saw more of me than I thought I’d allowed you to see.”
“Look at me,” he gentled. When I didn’t, his tone, although sweet, carried a hint of command to it. “Baby, look at me.” So, I did, and when our eyes connected, I wanted to cut and run about as much as I wanted to hold on to him and never let go. “I’m not one of your good-for-nothing exes, who ditches you at the first sign of trouble, Jana. I have staying power because, from the moment we had our first conversation, I was drawn in. I had to know you. And the more of you I get to know, woman…” He paused to shake his head, his features transforming into a baffled expression. “You’ve had me enthralled in every nuance of you.” He buffed my lips with his. “Now, this evening has gotten heavier than I could have imagined, and although unplanned, I can’t say I regret all of this coming out.”
“You don’t?”
He shook his head. “Not for a hot minute, babe. It just means that I’m in here.” He gingerly tapped the side of my temple, smiling. “And in here.” He tapped my breastbone next. “And heaven forbid lightning strikes me down for sounding crass, but someday soon…not today, mind you, I might just get in here.” He slid his hand so his palm broke the connection between our crotches, palming the raging heat at the apex of my thighs with a wicked grin.
Just as soon as he touched me intimately, his digits disappeared, and his face grew serious with intent. “For right now, as much as I’ll most likely be spending a sleepless night kicking myself for what I’m about to say, I think it might be best if I were to put my shirt on, take you back to the couch, and protect you from the death and turmoil that Michael Myers will be bringing forth in the rest of our Halloween franchise marathon.” He delivered a chaste but no-less-potent kiss to my lips, pulling away to smile slyly. “What do you say?”
Feeling slightly playful, despite our emotionally turbulent conversation and assorted confessions, I returned his smile, albeit with a flirty one of my own. “I say, leave the shirt, I’ll match you in removing this sweater, and we can do as you want, cocooned in a blanket.” Ensuring I’d made my request clear, I pulled my right hand from his chest, wrapped it behind his neck, then pulled him to me for an all-too-short kiss, ending it with a slight nibble to his bottom lip. “What do you say?”
Grinning, his eyes sparkling with mirth, he shook his head in disbelief. “I say you’ve got a deal, you little vixen.” Kissing my forehead, he pulled away, helping me hop off the counter before releasing me altogether to finish putting our glasses in the dishwasher. Flipping its door shut with his foot, he headed for the fridge. “Wine? Beer? Something weaker? Stronger?”
“Beer is good,” I said, knowing it was his preferred social drink of choice. “I’ll go cue up number five,” I added, turning to exit the kitchen, proceeding to remove the sweater I was wearing, knowing all too well that his eyes were on me when my threadbare tank top made its appearance—sans bra.