Chapter Twelve
My body raced. Heart pounding, blood rocketing through my veins. It was the most wild and untamed sensation I’d ever experienced.
Brad didn’t actually say the M-word, but it was very much implied.
You’re not going anywhere, my bear scolded. He’s yours, and all you have to do is let yourself be claimed by him…
“Look at me,” he said. I had no idea how much time had passed, all I knew was I’d made things awkward. Again.
Before I had a chance to honor his request, he moved forward in a fluid motion that made my thundering heart miss a beat. He was on his knees, and his hands were on either side of my face.
I jumped back, hating myself for doing it.
Knock it off, my bear had rightfully had enough of my shit. Think about how much better that face paint will look smeared all over his naked body.
There was no need to fantasize when I had the real thing right in front of me. Protecting me.
Finally, I gave myself permission to meet his gaze, and he shook his head and looked away—
Was that disgust in his eyes? What the?
“I don’t even know what to call you,” he said. “Ellie doesn’t feel right, but Synamon feels like an act.”
“What do you want to call me?” My voice barely had volume, and every word shook.
He groaned softly, but the frustration still came through loud and clear. “Do you really want to know what I want?”
It took everything I had not to run. He had to be able to feel my body tense. I nodded.
“I want you to promise me that whatever happens between us is you and me—” he shook his head again “—I know this is a lot, but I can’t hold back anymore.
I can’t pretend I’m something I’m not, and that I don’t want this.
So here it is. You can be a character for the rest of the world.
But I want you. The one you don’t let them see. Can you give me that?”
My lips parted. That was a romance hero-level request that would make me hug my e-reader to my chest if I’d read it in a book. So why, when it actually happened in real life, was I absolutely terrified?
Let this bear in, my bear demanded. Let him see you. He already does. He sees past your bullshit facade. Let him show you who you really are. Let yourself admit how much you want this.
“Whatever you’re hiding, I can handle it,” he said. “I can fix it. All you have to do is say the word.”
A sob lodged in my throat, practically strangling me. Where did that come from? Of course, I knew even if I wasn’t quite ready to admit it to myself, the emotion couldn’t be held back any longer. I couldn’t keep hiding. It stung my eyes.
Sweet moon, I wanted nothing more than to fall to my knees and ugly cry.
To mourn all the secrets, the half-truths, the almosts that I told myself set me free but in reality, had kept me in a cage.
To let relief flood in its place that I didn’t have to do that anymore.
To believe that this bear could keep his promises and save me.
But I couldn’t, wouldn’t let him see me come totally undone. What if it was too much? What if it made him break his vow before I even gave him a chance to keep it?
What if he doesn’t?
Even scarier, bear. Even. Scarier.
Brad softened, like he’d absorbed my emotion, like he was drinking all that sorrow, regret, and raw fear from me, doing the thing I was so afraid to do for myself.
It was like I was in a dream state, because the next thing I knew, we were both standing, and his big hand warmed the small of my back, even through the thick fabric of my sweatshirt.
He led me past the forgotten filming setup into the bathroom and picked up a washcloth.
He ran it under warm water, and then brought it under my eyes, dabbing softly, washing the tears away like they were never there.
Giving me a taste of what it would be like if I accepted his promise—this unwritten contract between us—and truly let him be who he was meant to be to me.
A bottle of makeup remover sat next to the sink, and he reached for it, pouring a little of it into the cloth, and bringing it back to my face. I closed my eyes and let him wipe my mask, my armor, and my last line of defense away.
The way he touched me was as much as an artistic expression as the makeup. My eyes fluttered open, and I blinked my way back to this realm to see him reach for the cleanser.
I had to appreciate a bear that knew his way around a skincare routine.
He repeated the motions, but this time, I didn’t close my eyes. I let myself watch him look at me. I didn’t shrink away from his gaze, his undivided attention, his devotion to the task at hand. To me.
When he finished, he placed his finger under my chin, the pad of it rough against my skin, and tipped my bare, vulnerable face to his and simply drank me in.
Every breath I drew in while I was under his gaze ended in a shudder.
This simple act, just looking at me, was far more sensual than when I danced to Def Leppard.
Sweet moon, that felt like it happened in an entirely different lifetime.
“I want you to call me Synamon,” I finally said. To my surprise, my voice didn’t shake. It was like I’d really found it for the first time. “Because that’s who I am.”
He nodded, and the smile that blossomed on his lips mirrored the sweet relief I felt in my soul as the walls between us crumbled into glitter and stardust.
The rubble was going to be more beautiful than the fortress, I thought to myself as Brad leaned in and put his lips on mine.