Brave Enough (Tall, Dark, and Dangerous #3)(31)

“Why do you make it sound like such a bad thing?”

“Because I don’t like not being in control. And you make me lose control. You’re all I can think about. And every time I start thinking about you, I feel like I’m gonna lose my damn mind if I can’t get inside you. Or put my hands on you. Or press my mouth to yours.”

Her expression changes. I recognize the look. I see it the instant she goes from angry to hungry. Hungry for me, for what’s between us. I know it because I feel it, too. It’s all I can feel, it seems like. That should bother the shit out of me, but this woman is under my skin. Jesus Christ, how she’s under my skin. And I just told her as much, which is a first for me, something else that’s out of character for me. Then again, Weatherly O’Neal is proving to be all kinds of firsts in my life.

When I start to step closer to her, desire shifts back to concern. Her mouth cracks then closes, and then cracks again for her to speak.

“Don’t hurt me, Tag. I wanted to let go. I’m trying to let go, but I’m still not a woman used to this. To you.” Her eyes . . . they glisten with sincerity. With the soft plea. They’re trusting me to be a man of honor.

Guilt stabs me in the chest. Don’t hurt me, Tag.

She’s so honest, so vulnerable. I know it’s hard for her, which makes me admire her all the more. Most people aren’t brave enough to admit weakness. Maybe that’s why, on her, it doesn’t seem like weakness at all. Just courage.

I bring the tip of my finger to her trembling lower lip. “I swear on my life that I’ll do my best.”

And I will. I’ll do my best not to hurt her. I just hope to God I haven’t already broken that promise.





SEVENTEEN


Weatherly

What in the name of all that’s holy have I gotten myself into? I think as Tag reaches for my hand and laces our fingers together. It’s an intimate, comfortable gesture that two people who really are engaged might indulge in. But we aren’t. And I’m terrified that this ruse is going to start feeling too real. If it hasn’t already.

Tag brings our entwined fingers to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. “Let me bring you a no-longer-warm breakfast. Let’s start over. The right way. The way I intended for this morning to go,” he says, staring deep into my eyes. I feel myself falling helplessly into his stormy gaze. Falling, falling, falling until I’m lost in the tornado once more. He does it so effortlessly—pulls me in. It’s not all his fault, though. Part of the problem is that I find myself wanting to fall. Badly. I find myself wanting this to be real, wishing this could be my chance at happiness, happiness that has nothing to do with money or power or holdings or business. I want those things to be mine. All mine. I want Tag to be mine. That’s why it nearly leveled me to see him holding a naked woman in his arms.

I nod and smile through the memory, tearing it up like a piece of paper and letting the tiny slivers slip through my fingers to be carried away by the wind. I don’t want them anymore. I don’t want to think back on that. Ever again.

Tag turns, eyes still on mine, half grin still on his face, and tugs me back toward the house. He doesn’t let me go. All the way back to the house, he holds me. My hand with his. My eyes with his. And that’s more than fine with me. I don’t want to look at my father, who I know is still standing on the steps. I can feel his angry energy like cold air blowing through my soul.

He won’t be ignored, though. When we mount the stairs and move to pass him, he reaches out to grab my arm, stopping me and forcing me to meet his disapproving eyes.

“Don’t do this, Weatherly. Don’t throw away your future on a whim.”

“This isn’t a whim, Dad. This is my life.”

“You’re telling me that you love him?” he asks, tipping his head toward Tag but not deigning to look at him.

I inhale deeply through my nose. “Yes. I love him.”

I feel Tag’s fingers twitch around my own, squeezing them a little tighter. I don’t know if it’s panic or what, and I don’t look at him to find out. Although I know it’s insane since we only just met, really, but I don’t want to see him shudder or shirk away from that word. It feels too right, too true when I say it aloud, even though it’s just what I had to tell my father.

Dad flings my arm away. “I raised you better than this. Better than him. He’s a common field worker, for chrissake,” he hisses, his voice dropping slightly as though he knows what he’s saying is in poor taste, regardless of his feelings for my engagement to Tag. “I’m sure he’s a fine enough man, like his father, but he’ll never be able to take care of you. This is exactly, precisely why I didn’t want you making this decision for yourself.”

“So you’re not even going to pretend that my happiness matters in all this?”

“You don’t have the first idea what will make you happy, Weatherly. You’ve been sheltered your entire life. But I won’t shelter you anymore. If you do this, so help me God, I won’t protect you.”

“I never asked you to,” I tell him, raising my chin defiantly and holding his gaze. “Stay if you want, but don’t think that your presence here will change my mind. It only strengthens my resolve.”

With that, I nod once and turn from my father, walking stiff-backed through the door and into the house.