Capture & Surrender (Market Garden, #5)(64)

Brandon moved a little closer, and Frank’s forearm prickled as he anticipated Brandon’s hand on his skin. Brandon didn’t reach for him, though. “Honestly? Taking care of someone who’s on his way out beats the f*ck out of knowing that someone is on his way out and not being able to be there.” This time, he did put his hand on Frank’s arm. To Frank’s surprise, Brandon’s voice wavered. “And it’s a hell of a lot better than not having that person at all.”

Frank closed his eyes. He put his other hand over the top of Brandon’s, knowing damn well he should pull away rather than create more of this warm, heartbreaking contact. A hundred arguments were on the tip of his tongue, reasons why they both knew they shouldn’t do this no matter how much they wanted to, but as long as he was touching Brandon, he couldn’t bring a single one of those arguments to life.

Finally, calling on every bit of strength he possessed, he drew back his hand, and then gently slipped his arm out from under Brandon’s. “There’s nothing I want more in the world than for us to—”

“I love you.”

Frank’s breath halted in his throat. He met Brandon’s eyes, and wondered when they’d gotten that extra shine. “What?”

Brandon swallowed. “I love you. It’s that simple.”

And wasn’t it ironic that his first thought was, I love you too, but you’re wrong.

Frank looked into Brandon’s flushed face betraying all those emotions, and something coiled and flipped inside his chest. He couldn’t dismiss it as an immature crush, either, though that would have made everything easier.

I love you.

The game changer, the biggest calibre he could think of. And yet Brandon clearly meant it, gazed at him with all the courage saying those three words required. Bright-eyed, emotionally naked and raw. Frank wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anything more beautiful.

“Oh damn.” He reached up to touch Brandon’s face and winced when Brandon turned his head to kiss his wrist.

You fool.

He pulled Brandon closer and felt him rest against him, one arm around his waist, face pushed into his neck. The man was vibrating with emotion, nothing at all like the smart-arse that he could be. Or even very dominant. A young man in love with balls enough to admit it, knowing damn well he was in love with the absolute worst option available to him.

“You’re crazy, Brandon. This makes no sense. And we shouldn’t.”

Brandon jerked back, but Frank held him against his body, craving that touch too much.

“But I’m a fool, too. I’d never have thought . . .” He kissed Brandon’s ear and stayed close. “I could love again like this. But I do.”

Brandon pulled back again, but with less force. Frank loosened his embrace. Brandon’s eyebrows were up, eyes wetter now than before, and the unspoken question came across loud and clear: You do?

Frank tipped Brandon’s chin a little bit higher, and as he leaned down, he whispered, “I love you, Brandon,” just before their lips met.

Brandon’s entire body relaxed against Frank’s. All the tension he’d carried in with him eased, and he felt almost boneless in Frank’s arms as they held onto each other. They didn’t deepen the kiss, but didn’t break it either. It wasn’t foreplay this time. Maybe not even affection. Simply a full stop to a painful conversation that had, in the end, put his world back on its axis.

Brandon was the one to finally break the kiss, but he didn’t try to get out of Frank’s arms. He searched Frank’s eyes, his own unreadable. Then he touched Frank’s face, brushing the pad of his thumb across his cheek. “So what do we do now?”

Frank stroked Brandon’s short hair. “You tell me.”

A faint smile pulled across Brandon’s lips. “Sleep would probably be a good start.”

Frank laughed. “Yeah, I guess it would.” The very mention of sleep was like an incantation, summoning up all the fatigue that the tense conversation had held at bay. Frank’s eyelids were heavy. Hell, his whole body was heavy. And Brandon wore his exhaustion on his sleeve too: the slight slump in his shoulders, the way he slowly blinked, the shadows under his eyes.

Brandon swallowed. “Would it be too much to ask to stay tonight?”

“No.” Frank pressed his lips to Brandon’s forehead. “I wouldn’t want you to stay anywhere else.”

Once again, Brandon relaxed, still more tension melting away.

“Why don’t we go upstairs?” Frank trailed his fingers down Brandon’s cheek. “Sleep tonight, and we’ll figure out the next step over breakfast.”

A tired smile pulled at Brandon’s lips. “But we’ll actually do it this time? Talk over breakfast?”

Frank laughed. “Yes, we will. I promise.”

“Okay.”

They separated, and Frank took a moment to put their tea mugs in the sink. As they started out of the kitchen, Brandon slipped his hand into Frank’s, and some lingering tightness left Frank’s back and neck. This shouldn’t have made sense, but to hell with what made sense. They fit too well together, whether Brandon was relentlessly f*cking Frank or Frank was holding Brandon against him with Brandon’s head under his chin. That made enough sense, so the rest would fall into place sooner or later.

In the bedroom, Frank started to free his hand, but Brandon didn’t let go.