This Is Love, Baby (War & Peace #2)(39)

“Fine, we’ll call them together. You can talk and I’ll sit here. We’ll have dinner afterwards.”

She shakes her head and grabs hold of my hand. Her touch ignites a fire within me and my heart thumps to life.

“I’d like to do it on my own,” she whispers, tears filling her eyes, making them look like tiny Caribbean oceans. “I’m embarrassed about the things that happened to me. Please. Let me do this on my own. You can order us some take-out and bring it back. It shouldn’t take long.”

I clench my teeth hard enough to make my jaw ache as I search her eyes for deception. But I find none. They only reflect the Baylee I know. Sweet, innocent, untarnished by the cruel f*cking world. God, I love her.

Sliding a hand into her hair, I then rub the pad of my finger over her temple. She’s so beautiful. Gabe tried to stomp on my gorgeous girl’s nature and body, but she survived. Baylee not only made it through, but it somehow made her even more alluring. She’s no longer that delicate flower the world was threatening to crush. No, now she’s sporting some sexy-as-hell thorns.

“Please,” she utters and then leans forward, parting her lips.

I’m so stunned that she’s initiating a kiss, I don’t realize that’s exactly what it is until her soft lips are pressed to mine and a small whimper pours from her. It slides down my throat and strokes the pelt of my inner beast. The dark parts inside of me shimmer briefly to life.

I crave to deepen the kiss. To push her down onto the sofa and kiss her like there’s no tomorrow. My cock begs for me to tug her yoga pants from her body and sink inside her tight heat.

But I can’t.

She’s barely warming back up to me.

I won’t ruin it out of desperation to mark and claim her for the first time.

It takes everything in me but I pull away from her kiss and grin. “Sure, babe. I’ll get us some food.”

She beams at me, but for a brief moment something flashes in her eyes. I don’t recognize the glimmer. It’s dark and foreign. Before I can pinpoint what it is, she reaches forward and pushes some of my hair from my eyes.

“You need a haircut,” she says and then laughs. I search her face for sadness or anger. Or anything. Something was there but now it’s gone. Now she’s happy. Almost too happy.

“Babe,” I start slowly, “is something wrong? You looked upset for a minute.”

Her eyes widen and she bites on her lower lip. I drop my gaze to her mouth and crave to nibble on it too. Later. Definitely later.

“I was just wondering…”

I arch an eyebrow at her in question.

“Where’d you get all this money, Brandon?”

My eyes tear from hers and I flick them to the painting on the wall behind her. Black brush strokes up and down. Left and right. Smudging together, attempting to hide the red blob beneath. It kind of feels like my heart. Like I have a black paintbrush of deceit trying desperately to cover up the hate. What the hate made me do.

“Brandon.” I feel her hand squeeze mine. “Tell me.”

With a sigh, I meet her eyes. “I took his money. That freak you were with. He took what was mine, so I took his money.” The bite in my voice is sharp and not meant to sting her, but it does.

Her eyes widen and her plump lips part open. “The money War sent for Mom? You took his money?”

The way she says his name, as if he’s precious to her, sends ice through my veins. “Your dad had clearly bailed. Fucking *,” I snap. “After I found the note, I’d seen in the emails that he was receiving money for your mother and she had already died. I figured we could use it, babe. It’s our money to start over. We can buy a house and—”

“Wait.” She shoves off the sofa and retreats a few steps. “You read those emails between Dad and me? And you didn’t try and reply back to me?”

Shit!

I blink my eyes several times to try and figure out a way to dig myself out of this hole. “Babe…”

“No! Don’t ‘babe’ me. You could have reached out to me then. You could have told me Dad had left and that Mom had died. Why didn’t you reply to me? I thought you loved me!”

Tears well in her eyes but she doesn’t look sad anymore. Her face is red. Her fists are clenched. Her breaths are labored. She’s pissed the hell off. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m growing more nervous by the second. She’s slipping through my fingers faster now, and I don’t know how to make it stop. I need her to understand.

Without thinking, I grab onto her hips and haul her to the wall next to the painting. “Love. I do love you. And you loved me too but then the moment someone else stuck their dick inside you, you forgot about that love. Reduced it to nothing but a f*cking memory. Did you ever even think about me?”

“This isn’t about you and me!” she cries out and shoves at my chest, but I don’t move. “This is about your lies—about you deceiving me! This is not about us or our love.” My girl is tiny and weak. Snatching both of her wrists, I push them against the exposed brick above her head. She squirms her body but when I smash my hips against hers, pinning her to the wall, she freezes. Terror swims in the pools of her eyes. Fucking terror. She’s afraid. Of me.

“Of course this is about us,” I hiss, dropping my voice to a whisper. “Or course it’s about our love. Tell me. How could you forget about me so easily? Not one second of one day went by where I didn’t think about you, babe. I obsessed over finding you.”