So Much More (Made for Love #3) (24 page)

Fuck. She’s totally squeezing my balls right now—and those blue eyes make it damn near impossible to say no to her.
“I’ll think about it,” I manage. “Good enough?” A small smile tugs at her lips as she shakes her head,
no
. “You’re killing me, Sunshine,” I mutter before leaning down for a quick kiss. “
Fine
. I’ll wear my damn helmet.”

“Well, well, well! What new development do we have here?” asks Sage.

I almost forgot he was here.

I offer him a knowing smirk, remembering the nod he’d given me when he saw Sarah and me holding hands at the table at The Brew Cycle Saturday night. Thinking about Saturday night reminds me about Sunday morning—his car parked in front of Sarah’s apartment. “Speak for yourself. What’s up with you and Sarah’s roommate?”

A grin slices his face and he folds his arms across his chest. “She’s fucking insane.”

“Hey,” Sarah cries, stopping what she’s doing to glare at Sage. “I know she’s a little complex, but you’ve seen her naked! You shouldn’t talk about her like that. I’m sure she has feelings hidden somewhere.”

Sage chuckles as he shakes his head at her. “No, it wasn’t an insult. I love it! Shit, I’ve been playing cat and mouse with her since she kicked me out Sunday morning, trying to get her to go out with me.”

“Wait—she kicked you out?” Before Sage can answer, Sarah giggles. “Never mind. I remember the mood she was in when I got home Sunday afternoon. It wasn’t pretty. I’m not surprised in the slightest.”

“Well, when you see her, tell her she’s going to have to do a lot worse to shake me. I know she digs this,” he says, spreading his arms wide. “She fed me breakfast before she gave me the boot.”

“Millie strikes me as someone who has a lot of walls up,” Sarah replies, returning to her task. “I applaud your determination and wish you the best of luck.”

“Hey—maybe we could do a double date and—”

I bark out a laugh and shake my head at him. “Maybe you should just get started on getting the shop ready to open. You’re not using my girl as bait. You’ll just have to up your game, young blood.”

Sarah laughs and Sage waves us off as he heads back to the front. “We can help him out a little bit,” she insists, tapping her hip just below mine.

“Not this weekend we can’t. This weekend, it’s just you and me.”

“Oh, yeah?” she hums, smiling up at me.

I wink at her in reply. It’s been a while since I took a girl on a date, but not so long that I’ve forgotten how to do it. I promised her I’d take her out properly, as only a good man would, and so I intend to. All I need now is a plan.

I
’M SO TIRED, I’M
tempted to curl up in one of the lounge chairs and sleep until we’re closed. I haven’t pulled an all-nighter in ages and I’m way out of practice. Even espresso shots are useless to me right now. Eryn fed me three a couple hours ago. I had a nice jolt of energy for a whole thirty minutes and now I’m a walking zombie.

“How many times do I have to tell you to
go home?
” asks Brandon as he emerges from the back.

I lift my head from off of my outstretched arm and sit up away from the front counter as I try and muster the energy to give him a stubborn glare. I don’t think I get my point across as Eryn simply laughs at whatever expression is on my face.

“That depends,” I yawn, finding my words. “How many times are you going to ask me in the next twenty minutes?”

He looks at Eryn, as if to gain support in his efforts to send me home, but she shrugs and shakes her head helplessly.

Good girl
, I think with a lazy smile.

“
You
are down a ride home. Eryn’s car won’t fit your bike. That leaves me to play the part of your personal chauffeur. Besides, it’s Tuesday. At some point, you’re going to start letting me close
without
you on Tuesdays, so I might as well stay.”

“You are incorrigible,” he mutters, lifting an eyebrow and pointing a finger at me. “And while you’re nice to look at, you’re too tired to be helpful—which, by the way, doesn’t instill me with the confidence to let you close Tuesdays, or any days, without me.” I can tell he’s trying to be
bossy
, but the smirk that plays at the side of his mouth gives him away.

“Well, if someone hadn’t
kissed
me last night, maybe I would have gotten some sleep,” I fight back, hiding a smirk of my own. “Really, this is
your
fault.”

Eryn gasps, taking a step closer to our face off as she folds her arms across her chest. “You
kissed
her? Damn, this is getting good. Where’s the popcorn when you need it? Tabbi is going to
die
when she finds out.” We gape at her, her intrigue giving us pause. “Keep going, keep going,” she insists. “Pretend I’m not here.”

I chuckle. I can’t tell whether or not I’m amused by Eryn, or just slap happy.

“I wouldn’t have kissed you if you hadn’t snuck in last night to bake cookies, when I specifically told you not to. Strike two, Sunshine.”

I open my mouth to throw out another retort, but I’ve got nothing.

“Touché,” I grumble with a playful pout. “I’m still taking you home!”

He turns away from me without further argument, mumbling something under his breath as he goes. When Eryn snickers, I giggle and I realize, in this very moment, I feel positively giddy—and I love it, even if it is drenched in exhaustion. The man who’s grumbling at me wants me, a feeling I reciprocate wholeheartedly. I’m not running from it. I don’t doubt it. I’m embracing it. For the first time in months, I’m really beginning to feel like I don’t wish I was somewhere else.

While Brandon takes care of things in the back, Eryn and I clean up behind the counter and out in the lobby. It’s twenty after nine when we lock up and Brandon and I wave goodbye to Eryn.

“You good behind the wheel?” he asks as he unhooks his bike from the rack. I watch as he hoists the frame up and snakes his good arm through the middle, resting the center beam on his shoulder.

“Wow. That’s hot.”

He laughs at me as he reaches for my hand. “That’s the sleep deprivation talking. I can tell.”

“I’ll be—” I’m interrupted by a yawn. “Fine,” I finish. “You don’t live that far, right?”

“Nah. It’s just about five miles. We’ll be there in no time.”

It takes a little bit of maneuvering, but we manage to fit his bike into my trunk when we fold down my backseat. Ten minutes later, I’m parked in front of his building and we’re pulling his favorite ride back out. He gently props it against the side of my car before he pulls me into his arms. I know he’s about to say goodbye, but as tired as I am, I’m not ready for that yet. I speak before he can.

“Do you live alone?”

“Yeah. It’s not much, but it’s home for now.” I nod, scrambling for something else to say. “Do you want to see it?” he asks before I can.

“Yes,” I answer without pause, a rush of excitement at the prospect of a few more minutes alone with him bringing life to my limbs.

“Okay.”

He grabs his bike and I follow him up the stairs to his second level apartment. As soon as we step inside his studio, he turns on the lights and my eyes are everywhere. The open unit is surprisingly spacious. His place is neat, but in that
untouched
sort of way—like he doesn’t actually
use
any of his things. Then it dawns on me that he spends so much of his time away from home, he probably doesn’t have time to make a mess.

He has furniture, but nothing matches. His bed is on the far left side of the room in the corner, the navy blue sheets hurriedly thrown over the mattress. The brown leather couch that sits in the middle of the room facing the window looks worn and comfortable, in contrast to the glass coffee table that’s modern and sleek. The kitchen is to my right. There’s a small dining room table with two chairs, both of which are pieces of a different pair. On the wall, just beside the door, is the rack where he hangs his bike.

“You can sit, if you want. I just need to make a pit stop really quick,” he says, nodding toward the bathroom.

“Okay.”

As soon as he closes the door behind him, I go to sit on his couch.
Comfortable
doesn’t do this baby justice. It’s like a warm hug. I can’t help but sink into its hold, relax, and close my eyes. It isn’t until I feel a kiss pressed against my forehead that I realize I dozed off for a minute.

“You just sealed your fate, sweet girl. You’re not going home tonight.”

“What?” I stammer.

“I don’t trust you for a second behind the wheel. It’ll take you fifteen minutes to make it home from here. I was in the bathroom for one. You’ll never make it. You can take the bed.”

“Brandon, I—”

“I’ll get you a shirt you can sleep in.”

“Okay, but I—”

“No use arguing. I’ll—”

I clap my hand over his mouth. “Hush a minute, will you? I’m just trying to tell you that I didn’t lock my car.”

“Oh,” he chuckles. “Give me your keys.” I do as he asks and he slips them into his pocket before he goes to his dresser and begins rifling through it. Once he’s found what he’s looking for, he comes back and lays the t-shirt in my lap. “I’m going to go lock your car. I’ll walk slow. You can change and slip into bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Before I can even open my mouth to speak, he’s headed for the door. When I’m alone, stepping out of my jeans and discarding my shirt top, it starts to sink in that I’m about to sleep in Brandon’s bed. On any other night, I’d be nervous about that. Yes, he’s claimed me as his—as have I—but this is all happening in a matter of
days
. I know reckless and irresponsible. I threw caution to the wind in my relationship with Luke. Part of me, the tiny, quiet, still lucid part, wonders if this is a good idea.

I’m so tired, though; and his bed—
any
bed—is exactly where I want to be right now.

Then, of course, there is my heart.

As I slip into Brandon’s long sleeved t-shirt, and as I’m overwhelmed by the scent of him wrapped around me, I’m reminded that I’m still here because I trust him. Not only that—I want him. I want
more
of him.

His words.

His heart.

His touch.

I want more of that feeling I get just being near him. I want more goose pimples, spurred on by the way he
looks
at me. And that warm, tingling, ache he causes between my legs—I want more of that, too.

I fold my clothes and set them on his coffee table before I make my way to his bed, unweaving my braid as I go. When I slip between the cool sheets and lay my head down, I know immediately that there’s no way I’m letting Brandon sleep on the couch.

I could lock her doors from the landing two steps away from my apartment, but I take my time and walk the distance to her car. I notice that she’s left her purse inside, so I grab it before I lock up. Girls always seem to need these things. Considering the weight of the damn bag, I’m sure she’s got everything but the kitchen sink inside.

As I slowly climb my way back up the stairs, I wonder if I’ll be able to get any sleep knowing that she’s in my bed. Not just in my bed, but in my t-shirt and little else. If it were any other night, under different circumstances, I wouldn’t have told her to stay. It’s going to be hard enough as it is, keeping myself in check and out of her pants. I wanted her even before I knew what the inside of her mouth tasted like. Now my desire for her is unreal. But tonight’s not about that. I meant what I said—I don’t trust her to drive right now. A tired driver is often times no different than a drunk one.