Breathless (Steel Brothers Saga #10)(18)
I’d stepped in it this time, especially considering the type of man Bryce’s father had turned out to be. He had forced men, women, and children, including my own brother. Open mouth, insert foot. I was being a spoiled brat. Spoiled little ranch heiress. I felt like a piece of shit.
Repeat this to yourself, Marjorie. You have no hold on Bryce Simpson. You have no hold on Bryce Simpson. He’s allowed to kiss whomever he wants. He’s allowed to do any…
I couldn’t finish, not even in my head.
Bryce stood. “I need to go.”
Shit. Not at all what I wanted. I inched toward him. “Please, don’t. I don’t want to be alone in this big house tonight.”
“The boys are here.”
“You know what I mean. They’re asleep, and if I’m alone with my thoughts…”
“You’ll worry about Jade. Tal says everything looks good.”
“But what if—”
“Marj, don’t do this to yourself.” He shuddered slightly.
Only slightly, but I noticed. If he hadn’t been with another woman five minutes ago, I’d think he wanted to reach out to me. Hold me like he had been.
“Can’t you stay? We have”—I cleared my throat—“plenty of room, as you well know.”
“I should get home. Henry.”
“He’s with your mom. Plus…”
“Plus what?”
What the hell? We were both thinking it. “Plus…weren’t you planning to spend the night with lipstick woman, anyway? You’d have been out all—”
He pulled me to him, smashing our chests together. “You want to know what lipstick woman was?” He grabbed my hair in his fist and yanked it back, forcing me to meet his gaze. “She was a substitute. A piss-poor substitute at that. A substitute for what I really wanted.”
My heart thundered inside me, the beat radiating out to my fingertips. “Wh-What do you want?”
“You fucking know what I want, baby.”
I closed my eyes, waiting for his kiss.
A kiss that didn’t come.
I opened my eyes.
His own were full of torment.
I couldn’t help myself. I cupped his cheek, letting his sandy stubble scratch my fingertips.
“Damn it, Marjorie,” he said gruffly.
“Take it, then. Take what you want, Bryce.”
Chapter Twelve
Bryce
Take it, then. Take what you want, Bryce.
If I were stronger, her sweet coconut scent wouldn’t entice me.
If I were stronger, her trembling pink lips wouldn’t set my loins on fire.
If I were stronger, those sweet nipples protruding through her tight T-shirt wouldn’t be my undoing.
If I were stronger, I’d do the right thing.
If I were stronger.
If…
I stroked her rosy cheeks, her skin like silk beneath my rough fingertips, and I pulled her face to mine, our lips meeting.
She opened, her smooth tongue melting against my own. She tasted of a hint of lusty red wine, a touch of mint, a sweet sensation that had my senses spinning.
I was going to hell for this. Surely I was going to hell. I had nothing to offer this wonderful woman. I had nothing to offer this baby sister of my best friend.
That last thought should have stopped me. Should have had me breaking the kiss and running toward the door.
But it didn’t.
No.
Nothing would stop me now.
This would happen, and it would be amazing.
Damn the consequences.
Damn the fallout.
Damn everything—everything except Marj and me and this amazing kiss.
Our lips still smashed together, I explored her silky neck with my fingers, and then her lean shoulder and upper arm, lightly brushing the fabric of her short sleeve upward. I trailed down her arm, circling her wrist and then entwining her fingers with mine.
I groaned into her mouth.
This felt so right.
It was wrong, but so right.
With reluctance, I broke the kiss to inhale a necessary breath.
Breathless again.
She always left me breathless.
Then I pressed my lips to her soft cheek, her jawline, the curve of her neck, the soft part of her shoulder that was exposed.
Tonight my lips would explore every inch of Marjorie’s body. Every fucking inch. My cock was hard as a rock in my jeans, and I absently pushed it against her belly, craving more and more of her.
Damn the consequences.
Damn the fallout.
“Bryce.”
Her voice was a soft sigh, a careless whisper in the night.
I groaned again and nipped her neck, not giving a damn if I left a mark.
In fact, wanting to leave a mark.
Yearning to mark her as mine forever.
Damn the consequences.
Damn the fall—
“Auntie Marj?”
I jerked my lips away from her neck and looked up. Donny stood at the top of the small staircase that led to the large family room and bar.
Marj turned toward the little boy quickly. “Hey, sweetie. What are you doing up?”
“I had a bad dream.”
Talon and Joe had told me about the boys and their nightmares. They were coming less and less frequently, and they tormented Dale more often. Tonight, though, apparently little Donny was affected.