Brazen (Brazen #1)(46)

He set her on the bed and pulled the covers down. “You want a T-shirt?”

She should say yes and make it easier for him, but why should it be so easy for him when it was so hard for her? She shook her head.

“Let me look at that cut now that it’s clean,” he said before she could shed her towel and climb underneath the covers.

He reached for the towel covering her head and pulled it away. He rubbed the cloth over her hair, ruffling it in an effort to dry it as much as he could. After a bit, he tossed it aside and put his hand back to her head. She sat still while he thumbed a part in her hair so he could view the wound.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked.

“No,” she whispered. Though it wasn’t entirely true. She couldn’t stand this stiffness between them. He alternated between hot and cold, soft and hard with her. As if he couldn’t make up his mind whether to love her or despise her. She was tired of feeling like a coin flip.

“It doesn’t look bad. I’d feel better if a doctor looked at it, but I think it’ll be okay.”

She nodded slowly. Then she looked up at him and wondered at the picture they made. Him standing above her on the bed. Her sitting with just a towel wrapped around her, her heart in her eyes.

As if drawn to the image in her head, he lowered his hand until he cupped her chin. His thumb rubbed across her cheek in a sensuous line. She stared unflinchingly at him, not caring if she was broadcasting her need. She wasn’t ashamed.

His head moved closer. She inched hers higher. His hand slipped away. His lips were just inches from her.

He stood to his full height, and she slumped in disappointment. “You should rest,” he said gruffly.

“I’m not tired.” And it was true. The exhaustion that had permeated her every pore just moments earlier had now washed away. Every nerve was standing on end, her awareness of him a living, breathing thing. “Stay with me. Please?”

Rife indecision carved lines across his face. At his sides, his fingers curled back and forth into fists, betraying his unease. When had things gotten so unbearable between them?

Just when she was convinced he’d say no and beat a hasty retreat from her room, he let out a small sound of defeat and sat down on the bed next to her.

“I’ll stay if you rest.”

She allowed some of the tension to escape her, and almost immediately, the fatigue was back. She sagged against the bed like a deflated balloon. Seth caught her and eased her down, then he moved up behind her and gingerly laid his arm across her waist.

She scooted back against his warmth, seeking the comfort of his arms, his touch, the feel of being melded to his body. She twisted restlessly against him until his arm tightened around her, a clear command for her to stop.

Edginess surrounded her. She itched on the inside.

“Relax,” he murmured in her ear.

His hand came up to stroke her hair. She smiled and allowed herself to settle. She loved it when he touched her hair.

After a few minutes, the dampness from the towel chased a chill up her arms. Her skin prickled and rose with bumps.

“You need to get out of this towel,” he said, though he didn’t sound happy about the fact.

Instead of waiting for his inevitable retreat, she simply rolled and shimmied until she was free of the towel. She threw it across the room and pulled the covers up over her. She slid her naked back against his chest once more, wanting to restore their earlier closeness.

“Jasmine…” he began.

She rolled over to face him, her fingers seeking his face. “Don’t go,” she whispered. “Please, don’t go.”

She lifted her chin and pushed in closer until their lips met. He stiffened, his resistance clear in his body language.

She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, encouraging him closer, needing him closer. “Please.” She was begging. She didn’t care.

Emotion swelled in her throat. Don’t let him push her away again. God, please, no.

“Jasmine, I can’t—”

She kissed him again.

“Jasmine.” His voice grew quieter, his objection fading.

She kissed him again, pulling him still closer.

“I need you,” she whispered. “Show me, Seth. Show me how it can be.”

“You’re hurt. You need rest.”

“I need you.” She wrapped both arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of her. He came, sliding his body along hers. She spent no time rejoicing over her victory. She didn’t want to give him any chance to think better of it.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said, the pain in his voice making her shiver.

“I know you didn’t. I should have told you it was my first time.”

“It will be better this time,” he promised.

“I know it will.”

He crushed her to him, his lips molding to hers. He tasted her, devoured her, explored her with alternating roughness and tenderness.

There was a wildness about him that was ever-present, something he couldn’t control, a part as integral to him as breathing, and yet, at times, he tempered it. He would pull himself back, she could feel it, as he skated close to the edge, he’d retreat, his movements gentling.

His kisses became more tender as his body moved urgently against hers, a compelling contrast, two motions completely at odds.