Ask Me Why(65)

Brance seems to ponder that. He waves it away a second later. “Adults can have slumber parties.”

I chew on my bottom lip. I’d hate for Ollie to find me here. The assumptions he’d make wouldn’t be stellar. In his opinion, we’d be one step closer to being a happy family. I shake that possibility off my mind. What’d be worse is having a panic attack in the middle of the night.

I give Brance a truth. “I don’t sleep well.”

He glances at the darkened window. “Me neither.”

“Even more reason for me to leave,” I murmur.

“How bad is it?” His question is a whisper.

I swallow thickly. “The nightmares are brutal. I usually wake up screaming.”

“When did you have the last one?”

I scratch my temple, having to think about it. “Two months ago, maybe?”

Brance locks me in a gaze I can’t escape. “Let’s try it. If something happens or you’re not comfortable, feel free to leave.”

My resolve crumbles into a pile of dust. I’ll worry about what this means tomorrow. Consequences be damned. “Okay.”

His features brighten. “Yeah?”

I giggle. “Your reaction alone is solidifying my decision.”

“C’mere, babe.” He opens his arms. “Let me hold you.”

Brance lifts the covers, and we snuggle underneath. I slide toward him, resting my head on his chest. That shallow divot shrinks a tad more. I let his steady heartbeat settle my lingering doubt. Not five minutes later, my lids are getting heavy.

In his protective embrace, I fall into a peaceful sleep.





Brance



Remix



I finish adjusting my tie in the hallway mirror. After smoothing the silk flat against my shirt, I stride into the kitchen. The sun is barely over the horizon, and my routine is already off-kilter. But that doesn’t bother me the way it usually does. Probably due to waking up with Braelyn’s ass snuggling my morning wood. She blinked her lazy eyelids open long enough to straddle my lap for a quick fuck. That woman could give any rodeo queen a run for her bonus check. Two orgasms later, Braelyn toppled into the mound of pillows with a blissed-out sigh. She was snoring before I made it into the shower.

With the flip of a switch, the coffee begins brewing. The strong aroma of dark roast wafts from the steaming machine. My mouth waters at the scent, energizing me with one inhale. The smell is slightly less effective than Braelyn’s pussy. Lucky for me, I got a double dose.

I open the cabinet for a mug. There’s five to choose from. My collection is not very extensive. I’ve never needed more than one at a time. Braelyn lives alone and has a least twenty filling several shelves. She’s always prepared. Even when I least expect her to be.

Maybe I should take two down. Braelyn is bound to want a cup. It’d be nice to have one set out for her.

The realization stops me short. Where did that shit come from? I’m planning ahead for her? It’s enough I let her share my bed. I should draw the line there. Encouraging her to stick around longer after waking up is asking for trouble. I bow my head and force out a slow exhale.

This needs to end. But does it really? My hand pauses in midair, hovering at the halfway point. In the end, I take the mug out and place it next to mine. Something deeply broken and sharp settles inside of me. I rub at the odd sensation in my torso. What’s the big fucking deal? I’m already trudging into uncharted territory. Might as well push a bit further.

Asking Braelyn to stay was instinct, a reflex I couldn’t control. It seemed like the only option. I’d held my breath, waiting for regret to rain down on me. But there were no gloomy clouds or sinking feelings. Nothing of the sort. Only that faintly familiar clink as another piece found its place.

Because I’m greedy, or a glutton for bad decisions, I practically begged Braelyn to agree. I plowed through every reason she served. She was ready to leave and follow the rules I’d crammed down her throat. Maintaining that semblance of order no longer appeals to me. There’re always stipulations. Addendums are created for a reason. And I’m damn glad.

Movement near the foyer has me lifting my gaze. Braelyn makes her way down the stairs, all sleep-rumpled and sluggish. She’s wearing her clothes from yesterday. Her blonde waves are more tangled than smooth, and a natural blush colors her lightly freckled cheeks. I guarantee she still smells like me. Why is that so fuck-hot to imagine? Our sweat mixed with arousal is a potent combination. Everyone will be aware she’s spoken for. Would it be too much if I demand that she doesn’t wash it away?

Braelyn is unaware of my creeping, trailing her delicate fingers along the banister. Her bare feet shuffle along the floor. The wrinkled fabric of that bright skirt clings to her toned thighs.

Damn, she’s beautiful.

When she turns the corner and finds me waiting, her steps falter slightly. She blinks, over and again. Her smile is floppy and uneven. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” I curl my hands into fists, killing the urge to hug her.

We take several moments to ogle one another. Her gaze eats me for breakfast. I feel like a piece of meat on display. For once, it doesn’t annoy the shit out of me. I gorge on her tan legs for dessert. It’s my favorite meal. Braelyn sways further into the room, those hips composing a hypnotic rhythm. “You’re looking awful dapper for”—she glances at the clock—“seven o’clock. Do you always get up so early?”