Craving The Player (Amateurs In Love Book 1)(55)
It’s rare and even more unbelievably beautiful.
Chapter Twenty-Two
BRADEN
Morning-after breakfasts have never been my thing—clearly. But seeing the shine in Sierra's eyes when the waiter brought her stack of strawberry pancakes to our table seemed to be enough to drag me over to the dark side.
I'm sure her hands would have been clapping in front of her when the plate was pushed across the table if it weren't for the several eyes roaming carelessly around the restaurant. She would hate to draw attention to herself, although I'm not sure why. Most gorgeous women love attention. But maybe that’s one of the reasons that I find myself so drawn to her. She’s the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever met, but she doesn’t let it define her. It’s sexy as hell.
Her megawatt smile punches me directly in the chest as she looks up at me from her stack of pancakes, glowing with a strong sense of bliss. My lips lift in a lazy smile and I lean back against the booth, tilting my head slightly.
Her long hair is pulled up into a lump on the top of her head again, allowing me to soak in the full extent of her natural beauty. I've always been a total sucker for freckles, and of course, she has plenty spackled across her porcelain skin.
She raises a curious brow when she notices my intense staring. "You know, food is way better when you eat it while it’s still warm."
I look down at my plate full of assorted meat. "Might have a point there, baby. You do know your meat.” It’s a ridiculous, child-like tease, but when she rolls her eyes and her shoulders shake with a silent laugh, a strong sense of pride swells in my chest.
After a few moments she’s back to eating her pancakes and I’m watching her again, content with just sitting here, soaking in her presence."I didn't know that you loved pancakes so much," I say and shove a piece of crispy bacon in my mouth.
She swallows her mouthful and slides her tongue along her bottom lip to clean off the blob of red syrup that I can't seem to take my eyes off of. I watch her tongue disappear again before she speaks, tearing my eyes from the provocative action that has my blood rushing to my groin.
"My sister used to make me a stack every Sunday morning. It was our thing."
"You have a sister?" And why haven’t I asked about your family before now?
"Yeah. Clare is a few years older than me. Her daughter, Lizzy, is the cutest thing ever." Sierra smiles wide, stabbing another piece of pancake. “My parents weren’t really around when I was young, so Clare went out of her way to be a mother figure for me in a way. We’re really close. Best friends, I guess you could say.”
“She sounds great. You’ll have to introduce us sometime.”
She seems as shocked by my offer as I am, but recovers quickly, nodding once. “She’d like that. But what about you? Do you have any siblings? Or is Clayton your loaner brother?"
Laughing lightly at that, I grab my glass of orange juice in my palm and gulp down half of it while staring across the table, focusing on the way her pupils dilate when I lick it off my lips. "Clayton could only be so lucky as to call himself my blood brother. My actual brother, Tyler, is the opposite of Clay in almost every single way."
"Isn't that a good thing?"
"Depends on what type of guy you like, I guess. Clayton is loud, obnoxious, and judges people before getting to know them like the little shit he is. Tyler is the silent broody type who doesn’t care enough to judge you. The only people my brother has let get close enough to judge would be his wife, myself, and a select few friends."
Sierra nods, her brows scrunched as if she's thinking hard about something. It makes me nervous and I begin to feel desperate, not wanting her to shut down and run out of here.
"What else should I know about you, my little fighter?"
"Like? I doubt you want to hear about my hobbies." Her forced, mocking laugh stings worse than I care to admit. I try to push off her backhanded insult with a tight smile. There’s no way that I’m going to let her stop me from finding out everything that I can about her. She’s got me too interested now. I can’t keep being held at arm's length.
"And if I do? Don't be shy, Sierra. Tell me something interesting."
"Alright then," she hums and taps her chin. "I started a new job at a decent sized marketing firm pretty recently. I think that I might actually have a chance at getting somewhere in my career for the first time in what feels like forever."
I find myself enthralled with the way she speaks about it with such confidence and pride. It makes me grin, as if I'm proud of her for doing something that she's so happy with.
"That's great," I praise, reaching across the table and covering her hand with mine. The shock that flashes across her face has me coughing awkwardly and pulling my hand back, shoving it in my lap as the unfamiliar burn of rejection scalds the palm of my hand. I want to have the right to hold her hand whenever I want to, and I don’t do well with rejection.
I’m not sure what I was hoping for when I asked her to go for breakfast with me, but I know that I didn’t want to leave her so quickly. I needed more time with her. It didn’t matter what we did or where we went. I just needed to be with her. I’ve been going around and around with my feelings for weeks, tearing myself up inside over what I wanted to do with them. But I don’t think that I want to keep fighting them anymore. Not if fighting them means dealing with the constant pain in my chest that only Sierra’s presence can soothe.