Priceless (Forbidden Men #8)(43)

“No!” She leaped off the bed after me, and I had to catch her or she would’ve fallen flat on her face.

“Sarah!” Gripping her arms, I pulled her against my chest and then eased us back onto the bed. “What the hell?”

She clung to me like superglue. “Don’t go over there. Please. You could get hurt.”

When I sniffed at the likelihood of that, she said in a stronger voice, “You could get into trouble.”

That was more probable, but I didn’t care. “He can’t get away with doing this to you.” And neither would the friends who’d talked him into doing it. As soon as I beat him for his offenses against Sarah, I was going to beat the addresses of all his punk-ass buddies out of him next.

But try as I might to pry her arms from around me, my best friend refused to budge.

“Let go,” I commanded.

“No.” Shaking her head, she buried her face against my chest and wept, soaking my shirt with her tears. I swear, each drop that fell from her eyes felt like acid sizzling directly against my soul. I hated her pain. “Don’t leave me,” she choked out. “Please. I need you. Right here, right now. Don’t go.”

I closed my eyes and tilted my face in until my nose was buried in her hair and I could inhale her familiar scent.

“Damn you,” I whispered, gathering her up so I could lay us both down on the bed, me with my head cushioned in one of her pillows, and her plastered to my side with her cheek on my chest. Banding one arm around her waist and cupping the back of her neck with my other hand, I kissed her hair and prayed for her pain to stop.

I could always go back to apartment 5A on Locust Street tomorrow. Right now, Sarah needed me here, so that was where I stayed.





SARAH




I sobbed on Brandt so long I gave myself a headache. My limbs ached and my eyes were nearly swollen shut when I returned to the land of the living and rolled my face from his chest to look into his concerned blue eyes.

“Jesus,” he murmured, cupping my cheek. “Can you even see?”

I could see him, which was all I really wanted to see, so I was fine. But it must’ve taken me too long to answer because he sat up and started to scoot off the bed.

“I’m going to get you a warm, wet rag.”

I felt too weak and hollowed out to argue with him, so I just stayed there, exhausted and drained on the bed, my hair fluttering in my face when I shifted to rest my aching head on a pillow.

When Brandt returned, he sat next to me and carefully parted the tangled mess of hair to see my face. “You still in there?” he asked in an amused voice.

I huffed. “No.” I was just a vacant shell of misery.

But then beautiful blue eyes met mine, crinkling in the corners with a soft smile. “Found you.”

He pressed a folded washcloth to my skin. I sucked in a breath from the delicious sting of soothing warmth. Grabbing his wrist that was holding the rag to my face, I held on to him for dear life. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

He sighed. “You apologize to me again, and I really will tickle you until you pee. None of this was your fault.”

With a sniff, I shook my head. “Then why do I feel like such an idiot? I mean, how naive does a girl have to be to think she was going on a real date when the guy was only with her to win a bet? I hate to break it to you, but I’m the only person I’ve ever heard of this happening to.”

The cloth was ripped off my face so Brandt could give me the full intensity of his scowl. “You are not an idiot, naive or otherwise. When a f*cking prick bastard deceives you and tries to use you the way this one did, that’s on him. Not you. And you actually caught him before he did anything, so honestly, I’m impressed with just how smart you are.”

I cracked off a sharp laugh. “Smart? Yeah, right. That’s funny. I was so f*cking smart I asked Reese for advice about getting my first kiss while I was getting ready for this joke of a date. I actually wanted one, too. I mean, I seriously thought...” Squeezing my eyes closed, I bowed my head. “I just...I feel so stupid.”

“Will you stop saying that? You are not stupid. That dickhead is a bastard. End of discussion.”

But my tears were returning, and I couldn’t seem to quell them. Brandt sighed and rubbed a spot on the center of his forehead. Then he growled out a sound of irritation. I knew it was because he hated it when I cried. It always filled him with a helpless kind of frustration.

Finally, he muttered, “As for your first kiss...here.”

Leaning forward, he pressed his mouth to mine.

Totally unprepared, I sat there, stunned, gawking at him.

“Close your eyes,” he said against my mouth, amusement lacing his tone.

When he spoke, his lips were dry but soft as they rasped against mine. Heat coiled in the base of my stomach, and I instantly slapped my eyelashes together.

He rumbled out a sound of appreciation. “Now kiss me back.”

I had no idea what that meant, so I puckered my mouth as I did when I kissed my niece’s and nephew’s cheeks, then I made the kissy sound before pulling away.

Brandt laughed, his blue eyes sparkling with delighted humor. Realizing the kissy sound was probably totally unnecessary, I began to blush in hot humiliation, but he said, “Again,” and pressed his mouth back to mine.