Craving The Player (Amateurs In Love Book 1)(54)
“No. I’m okay. Thanks, though.” His voice is hard, the complete opposite of earlier, but I try not to let it weigh on me, even though it has my hackles raised. I can understand not wanting to talk about his feelings. I’m not surprised, but I can’t help but let his quick rejection tear at my chest—even just a little bit. Especially after I shared a piece of my past with him last night.
I pull away again and this time he lets me. The simple brush off has my throat tightening as I turn back to the sink and nod before my face can betray me, letting him see just how deeply the shift in attitude has affected me. I want to give myself a shake at the way this makes me feel. He’s nothing more than a mindless screw. I can’t afford to let myself feel anything for him. It won’t end well. He’s not somebody that can give me what I need. Whatever that may be.
Awkward silence envelopes the kitchen, only intensifying my annoyance with myself. Just say something. Get out of this situation. “Well, thanks for breakfast any—”
“Do you want to go get some food?” He cuts off my rambling with his own, taking me by surprise. I think I even gasp. “I mean, since I almost burnt your house down. It’s the least that I can do.”
His invitation hangs in the air as I start gnawing nervously on my lip. Is he asking me on a date? Or is he just starving and doesn’t want to go alone? Shit, why does it matter? Right, it doesn’t.
“Sure,” I reply, spinning back around and shrugging as if his offer doesn’t affect me. My hand moves to fiddle with the top of the blanket still resting on my shoulders as I meet his nervous gaze with my own. He scratches at his forearm and forces a smile.
“Okay. Uh, did you want to shower?” His eyes widen immediately and I nearly swoon from how nervous he is. “Not like . . . together, right? I mean, unless you want to? It’s not like we haven’t done everything else under the sun.” His shaky, booming laughter is enough to crack through the awkward tension.
“If we shower together, we won’t ever make it to breakfast. Let me go first. I don’t trust that you won’t use all the hot water.” I let myself smile, albeit a bit half-assed, and tighten my grip on the blanket as I rush past him.
He stops me when I get within an inch of him by grabbing my wrist and tugging me to his chest. “You’re not going anywhere without kissing me.”
My stomach swirls as I hide my burning cheeks by reaching up and gently pressing my lips to his, smiling to myself when he does the same. His thumb brushes my warm skin before he pulls away, clearing his throat.
“I’ll be back!” I squeak and beeline it for the bathroom. I’m about to close the door behind me when I hear him scolding himself.
“What is wrong with you? Focus, dude.”
What’s wrong with you, Braden? More like what’s wrong with me?
I’m running a brush through my wet hair for the final time when Braden strolls inside my room with nothing but a Sierra sized towel wrapped around his hips. A strong sense of need sweeps through me, making my legs shake as I take in the strongly carved muscles that cover his entire torso. Small droplets of water linger on his tan skin, slowly dragging their way under the towel, hidden from my sight—teasing me with the images of what’s hidden beneath the fabric. Seemingly reading my thoughts, Braden doesn’t give me as much as a sliver of a warning before the towel falls to the floor, exposing every inch of him to my greedy stare.
“What are you doing?” I breathe, raising my hand to shield my eyes when he starts walking to the pile of his clothes from yesterday. A ridiculous throb beats between my thighs at the pure masculine energy radiating from his shoulders. It’s addictive, drawing me in until I drown beneath it. A morning beard covers his jaw and I ache to run my palm across it, to feel the prickling against my skin.
“Crap, I guess I have to go commando,” he sighs, ignoring my question altogether when I hear the zipper of his jeans rattling around.
“You’re ridiculous.” I drop my hand and almost become disappointed when I see that he’s dressed before disregarding the feeling with a scowl.
“You’ve never minded looking at my cock before, Sierra.”
I can hear the smugness in his voice as he pulls a tight, grey short sleeve shirt over his stomach.
“I guess things change.”
“Oh?” He cocks his brow and lets his darkening eyes start slithering up my body. “Is that so?”
“Mmm,” I hum before swallowing.
“What was that?”
“Oh, screw off.” I shake my head at his cockiness and anxiously smooth down my hair. His bottom lip juts out in a sudden pout that has me fighting back a grin.
“I don’t think so, buddy. I’m hungry for this breakfast that I was promised.”
“I’m hungry too, but not for breakfast.” His handsome face has become serious and hard, amber eyes blazing with want and voice becoming raspy and desperate in a nipple tightening way. My lungs fail to bring it enough of the thick air around us when he starts moving towards me, his stance suddenly becoming predatory.
With wide-eyes, I gulp and mutter, “The only way you’re getting anything is if you feed me. With food.”
His deep chuckle meets my ears as I pull my eyes to his and take in the easy expression he’s now wearing, blessing me with a dimpled smile that has my cheeks beating with heat.