Priceless (Forbidden Men #8)(66)

But then I realized...that was no ordinary, everyday bra. That was a seduction bra, a bra meant to be seen.

Just who did she want seeing it?

“What the hell are you wearing?”

“Nothing,” she muttered, scowling at me but also looking completely guilty and a little humiliated. “Will you please just...go away?”

I laughed. Hard. While glaring. “Not until you answer my f*cking question. Why are you wearing that? Who are you wearing it for?”

She looked mortified as she shook her head emphatically. “I...no one.”

“Sarah, don’t f*cking lie to me.” I loomed closer. “Who...did you buy that for?” Because I was going to kill the f*cker. I didn’t care if I wasn’t supposed to be jealous or wasn’t allowed to be upset if she went to another guy.

She was mine. End of discussion.

“Who?”

“Me!” she growled, shoving me away. “Okay? I went to the store and bought it today for me. I’m not trying to seduce anyone, you big stupid jerk. I just wanted to make myself feel...desirable. Do you not understand that Seth broke something inside me? I don’t...I don’t know...” When more tears filled her eyes, I fisted my hand and set it against my mouth, biting my knuckles to keep from reaching for her. “My entire life, I’ve felt more like an observer than a participant. And when he asked me out, it was like I finally had a chance to live. But then, what happened, happened and it...well...it felt like a big slap of reality, telling me I don’t matter, that I’m not enough, that I—”

“Stop,” I whispered, unable to hear any more, and feeling like the dick I was being.

Closing my eyes, I cursed myself for forgetting how much she’d been hurt. When I opened my lashes, Sarah’s face was bowed and her shoulders were curled in protectively. Knifelike pain pierced my abdomen with guilt for making her feel bad.

“You matter,” I murmured, knowing the next few words I said may just be the most important thing I ever uttered. “I could lose everyone I know and everything I had, and I’d still be able to handle it as long as I still had you. You’re the only person who does matter to me.”

Slowly, I reached out and covered the hand she was using to hold the robe closed. Then I applied the slightest amount of pressure, cajoling her to let the terrycloth fall open. She looked up at me, her gaze uncertain.

“Let me see,” I whispered.

Her throat worked as she swallowed. And then she dropped her hand away.

The robe parted.

“Jesus Christ,” I breathed. “You’re so f*cking beautiful.” Closing my eyes, I groaned and pressed my forehead to hers. “How could you ever think you don’t f*cking matter?”

She shook her head, and a tear slipped down her cheek. “I don’t know.”

I barely touched her cheek with the tips of my fingers, dashing away the wetness, and she released a breath before grasping my wrist.

“Because I need proof. I need undeniable, physical proof. I need—”

I hushed her by setting my fingers against her lips. In that moment, I was a goner, done fighting it.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay, I’ll give you proof.”





SARAH




When the warm, moist fall of Brandt’s breath brushed over my fingertips and he looked at me with eyes that had just given in to temptation, I let go of his wrists to catch the lapels of my robe. And then slowly, staring him straight in the eye, I slid it off my shoulders and down my arms until it pooled around my lap, exposing the top part of my lingerie.

His pupils dilated and his gaze dropped to my chest. “Jesus.”

He was so fixated with staring at my body he didn’t seem to notice he’d reached out to trail the backs of two fingers gently down my stomach. I sucked in a breath, and my overheated skin rippled with goose bumps.

When he glanced up, his eyes were glossy and hooded, full of heat and yearning. Overwhelmed and overjoyed that he was experiencing all that for me, I hooked my hand around the back of his neck and tugged him in. Our lips slammed together. Hard.

His mouth met mine eagerly, already opening and drawing me in. Fingers sank into my hair and gripped it as he dragged me against him, relieving a portion of the ache in my chest when he pressed it to his own. As our tongues mated, hungry and seeking, he batted the rest of my robe away from my waist so he could curl a hand around my ass, grip and press me forward until I was snug in his lap and his erection hit me right between the legs. I had to break away from the kiss to throw my head back and gasp through the contact. He guided me, grinding me harder.

A mewling sound left my throat, embarrassing me to no end. Hoping to disguise the sound, I grappled with his shirt, panting, “I need this off.”

Without a word, he ripped it over his head. But as soon as his sleek, gleaming bare chest was freed, his gaze caught mine, and he paused. Regret and guilt shimmered through his glazed eyes as he shook his head. “Damn, Sarah. What’re we doing—”

I couldn’t allow him to finish the question, to pollute our moment with doubt, so I kissed him again and shoved him back until his spine hit the wall. His grunt upon impact was full of surprise and arousal.

I broke the kiss so I could concentrate on undoing the top button of his jeans. For me, it was a feat. But I was determined to be the one to release it. If I couldn’t handle one damn button, then what use was I?