Eternal Brand (5 page)

Brand's quick intake of breath was loud in the tense quiet of the room. Jet's gaze dropped to Brand's lips, lingering on the full lower one and the way it had softened with his surprise. The sight of those lips, the agony of Brand's closeness and the familiarity of his unique scent made every muscle in Jet's body quiver. Memories of the last time they were together flashed before his mind's eye—a darkened room, Brand's hands lovingly tracing the contours of Jet's body, kissing his neck, fondling his cock until it was hard and aching.

He hardened, recalling the rough passion that had swept him away then. Four years ago it had been as though no time had passed since that summer before Brand enlisted. It was the same now, the desire as uncontrollable as it had always been. Jet lifted a hand and touched Brand's face, tracing the line of his lower lip with his thumb.

“Jet.”

Jet ignored the warning tone in Brand's voice, unable to stop himself from lifting his other hand to cup the back of Brand's head. “At least tell her that women aren't your only favorite flavor. You owe her that much.”

Brand didn't shrug out of Jet's near embrace, although he could easily have done so. They were the same height, but Brand was stronger. He gently massaged the back of Brand's neck and was rewarded with a soft, almost inaudible groan.

“Emily's the only one I want. The past isn't relevant.”

“Oh yeah?” Jet asked.

Then he kissed him.

And it was just like old times.

Chapter Six

Emily wasn't sure what she was seeing at first.

She'd returned from the stables, stopping on the back porch to give George the pat his eyes pleaded for, before toeing off her dirty boots at the door. She slipped inside, wondering what all the tension between Brand and Jet had been about, and came up short when she entered the living room to find them embracing.

That's sweet
, came her initial thought. Australian men rarely embraced, and she figured Brand, being the strong silent type, was no different. It was nice to think he was so close to Jet that he could…

Emily's skin grew cold as she became aware of other details. Jet's hand was at Brand's nape, holding him close. Their mouths were locked together, their bodies pressed tight to one another's. Brand's hands were at Jet's waist, gripping his shirt. As Emily stared, he used that grip to draw Jet toward him. Jet responded by grinding his hips and letting out a moan.

They were kissing.

Passionately.

Emily stood and stared, shock rendering her immobile. Her boyfriend was kissing someone else, a man. The truth of that did not compute for a long time, time during which she watched them eat at each other's mouths and rub against each other's bodies. Brand and Jet, kissing. It was mind numbing, fascinating. Her body reacted to the blatant display of passion before her brain could make sense of it. Her skin tingled, her nipples pebbled and a wet heat gathered in her belly.

It was arousing. How could that be, when she was witnessing betrayal firsthand? But the desire, the intense yearning in the kiss was contagious. Emily's breath quickened even as the pain of what she began, finally, to realize was Brand's infidelity made itself known.

Should she interrupt them, or turn around and walk out? Indecision might have kept her rooted to the spot for more long moments, but George came to her rescue. Having snuck in the back door, he saw the two men together and let out a curious bark.

The sharp sound made Jet and Brand break apart. They turned in unison to see her standing in the hallway, staring at them. Jet ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his flushed face. He muttered an epithet. Brand's face paled, all the color of passion leeching from it as though it never had been. But Emily wasn't fooled. His cheeks had been as crimson as Jet's when they'd broken apart, his lips as swollen, his shirt as crinkled.

Emily's gaze dropped before she could think better of allowing it to. She saw the telltale bulge in the front of Brand's jeans and flinched away from the sight, her cheeks stinging as though she'd been hit. Her boyfriend had a hard-on. For Jet Durante.

Brand took a step toward her. “Em…”

Instinctively, Emily moved back. “No.”

It was the only word she could summon.

“Em, please. Let me explain.”

She shook her head, repeated, “No,” as she continued to back away from Brand's advancing form.

His voice was raw, his eyes pained with regret. “God, I'm sorry, Emily.”

His obvious sincerity brought a lump to Emily's throat. She was going to cry, to weep in front of him after he'd basically cheated on her in her own living room. She wouldn't have that. She turned on her heel and fled. She found temporary sanctuary in the bathroom, slipping inside it and locking the door behind her.

Emily moved to the sink, splashed water on her face, on the scorched flesh of her throat. She ignored Brand's insistent knocking, the apologies he rasped through the door. She ignored as well the throbbing in her nether regions, the pained hardness of her nipples. How could her body betray her this way? The man she loved had just kissed someone else, but whenever she closed her eyes and the vision of walking in on them came back to her, the shock and pain of the discovery was accompanied by a fresh wave of arousal she couldn't seem to control.

Perhaps the arousal was simply easier to deal with than the consequences of what she'd seen.

Emily sank to the cool tile of the floor, refusing to respond to any of Brand's requests for her to open the door. After a while she heard his retreating footsteps, heard the sound of muffled arguing coming from the living room. Brand was telling Jet to leave.
Good riddance,
she thought, ignoring the pang of regret that accompanied the thought of never seeing Jet Durante again. She'd truly liked him, damn it. The big fat liar.

A short time later there was another knock on the door. This time the voice that followed it was Jet's. “Emily, I'm going to leave now.”

Emily's voice croaked out of her. “Good.”

“I just wanted to say I'm sorry. And I wanted to give you this.”

There was a low swoosh as he slipped something under the door. It was a piece of paper. Curiosity winning over anger, Emily picked it up. On it, Jet had written his mobile phone number.

“If you ever need to talk, about what you saw or…anything, I'd be happy to hear from you.”

Fury returned in a lightning rush. Emily stood and yanked open the bathroom door. Jet rose from his haunches and faced her with an impassive expression. The fact he didn't have the decency to look contrite made Emily as mad as hell.

She screwed up the piece of paper and threw it at him. It bounced off his chest and landed in a crumbled heap on the floor. She spoke in barely controlled tones. “I won't be calling you to talk, Jet Durante. I never want to see your face again. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like you to get out of my house.”

Jet nodded once, a single jerk of his head. “Okay. But for the record, I never meant for this to happen. It's just that…I can never seem to shake him, you know? I shouldn't have stayed last night.”

“You got that right,” Emily snapped.

He let out a sigh, the saddest sound Emily had ever heard. “I won't bother you again, Emily. He's yours now. I wish you all the best.”

He was gone a moment later. Seconds after the front door closed, his motorbike thrummed to life. Emily stood frozen in the bathroom doorway, denying the instinct that told her to go to a window, to catch one last glimpse of him as he rode away. The urge was infuriating. What was wrong with her?

The silence that followed Jet's departure thumped against Emily's eardrums. Her heart beat out a crazy rhythm, one that forced her to take shallow breaths. Brand's footfalls sounded on the hardwood floors as he approached.

Emily turned to look at him, this man she didn't know at all. He stood in the hallway, staying out of reach. It occurred to her he'd always done that, kept his distance even while he clung to her like a drowning man would a life raft. He was an enigma, and she'd chosen to believe that was exciting. Now she realized how terrifying it was to live so close to someone and not know anything about them.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Despite all that had just taken place, Brand's question stunned her. He thought she was going to kick him out. She supposed that was a logical assumption, but there was nothing logical about what she was feeling right now. “Is that what you want? To leave?”

“No.” His voice was a desperate rasp that tugged at her emotions. “No, Em. I need you.”

The image flashed through her mind again. The way he'd clung to Jet, the way they'd devoured each other like they were each other's oxygen. “Do you need him too?”

Brand pushed out a breath and ran a hand over his hair. “I've known him longer than I've known anyone in my life. When we see each other, it's always like no time has passed. I don't know how else to explain it. I didn't intend to let him…kiss me but it just happened. You're the one I want to be with, Em. You're the one I love.”

Her heart skipped a beat. He'd said it. Brand had said he loved her. But he'd only confessed it when he'd thought he might lose her. Did that make it less meaningful? Less honest? Emily didn't know. She didn't know much of anything right now, except that she could barely stand the sight of Brand, and yet she didn't want him to go.

“You should probably sleep in the spare room tonight,” she said quietly. “I need some space to think.”

“Of course.” He swallowed audibly. “I'd give anything to take it back. I don't want to hurt you.”

“It's too late for that.”

Emily walked past him, at last gathering the strength to escape his nearness. She left the house, traversed the yard until she reached the stables. She found Daisy and put her arms around the mare's neck, burying her head in the thick muscle there. The horse whinnied and nuzzled Emily's shoulder, as though embracing her back.

It was only then Emily felt safe enough to let the tears out.

Chapter Seven

Remorse ate at Brand over the following days, digging a hollow in his chest that widened each time Emily failed to smile at him. He hadn't realized how much he'd come to rely on that smile of hers until it was gone. Until it all but vanished because of something
he'd
done.

On Wednesday Emily's sister Hope came out for lunch. Brand left the two women alone to hash out plans for their youngest sister Penny's birthday party, sensing as always Hope's underlying hostility toward him. Or was it simply mistrust? Toned, tanned and tattooed, Hope gave off a tough aura that Emily assured him hid a sweet-natured person. If Hope Irving had a sweet nature, she'd certainly never revealed it to Brand.

Not that he deserved sweet, after what he'd done.

He'd let Jet kiss him, had responded to it, had taken control of it and taken it further than it ever should have gone. He hadn't seen the man in four years, yet just as he'd told Emily, it was like no time had passed. The feelings had returned in a rush, and the taste of Jet's lips had intoxicated him, as it always had.

Seeking solitude, Brand took Daisy out for a ride. They followed the trail that led from the edge of the property, through the cane and eucalypts to the beach. It was a gray day, one where the wind blew the clouds around in the sky and sent a fine saltwater mist into the air to coat the skin. To most the sunshine was king, but Brand liked the beach this way, when clouds gathered and hovered over the crashing waves like a warning. There was something honest about the way nature revealed its latent power in the lead-up to a storm. It reminded a man how small and insignificant he was.

After letting Daisy stretch her legs with a gallop, Brand slowed the horse to a canter as he looked out to the ocean and saw not the tumultuous waves, but Jet's face.

Why had Jet shown up here, when Brand had finally found a measure of peace with someone else? He wanted to curse the day Jet was born, but he'd never been able to do that, no matter how much emotional turmoil the man had caused him. And there'd been a lot.

Jet's existence had forced Brand to confront, at the tender age of seventeen, the shocking truth he wasn't one hundred percent heterosexual. Having just lost his father—a poor excuse for a father but the only one he had—attraction to a man was the last thing Brand had been prepared to deal with. But the pull had been undeniable, like a force of nature that couldn't be thwarted. After an initial resistance, Brand had given in to his feelings. They'd had one spring, one glorious season spent exploring each other while Brand had steadfastly ignored the overarching implications of their affair.

Brand had thought he was gay. He'd been with girls and been thoroughly satisfied. But Jet… There was something about Jet that mesmerized him, that inspired a passion unlike any other. Jet understood him, accepted him for who and what he was. An orphan. A ghost of a person. Jet knew everything about him and, in accepting all of it, had made Brand feel whole for the first time in his life.

He'd loved Jet for that. God, how he'd loved him. But the love—love for a
man
that he hadn't wanted to acknowledge—had scared him so much he'd left in the most permanent way he knew how. He'd enlisted in the army. He'd gone to war. He'd left Jet behind, forever.

But it wasn't forever, was it?
That night four years ago was etched clearly in Brand's memory. The shock of running into Jet at a bar in the city, the intensity of the desire which hadn't diminished one bit in the nine intervening years. He'd been due to ship out for Afghanistan the following day, so they'd both known one night was all they'd have. Brand had taken it, because he'd needed to.

Over the years there'd been other men, encounters Brand had sought out in order to understand and accept his bisexuality. But there had never been anyone else like Jet. He'd needed Jet that night in the bar as badly as he had at seventeen.

As badly he had on Sunday, when they'd kissed like two people who'd waited years to taste each other's lips again. He'd had no control over his response, and Emily had witnessed that. Brand couldn't forget the look of devastation on her face, the glisten of tears in her eyes. He'd give anything to change what had happened.

But he couldn't. And he couldn't curse Jet for causing the emotional furor. He could only curse himself. He'd been unfaithful to Emily. He was still being unfaithful, every time his body tightened with need when he recalled that stolen kiss. He loved Emily. He wanted Emily. And yet…

Jet Durante was, as always, his Achilles heel.

“Ah, Dais,” Brand sighed, stroking the horse's neck. “I hurt our Emily. How am I going to fix it, huh?”

Daisy gave a loud snort, as though scoffing at the idea things could be fixed. Brand was tempted to agree, but something kept him holding on to hope. Emily hadn't kicked him out. She'd only kicked him as far as the spare bedroom. Maybe there was a way to get back in her good graces after all.

Hiding out at the beach while her sister visited wasn't the way. Hope might not like him, but he had never gone out of his way to get to know her. Perhaps he was the one who should make all the overtures. It wasn't his thing, trying to get people to like him. He didn't care what others thought. But for Emily, he could make an effort.

In sudden decision, Brand turned Daisy around and started heading back the way they'd come.

“So we've talked about Penny's party until we can't talk anymore,” Hope said as she rose from her chair and shrugged back into her denim jacket. “Are you going to tell me what's really going on now?”

Emily blinked at her sister. “What do you mean?”

“You and Brand. There's enough tension there to build a suspension bridge.”

Emily rose from the table and transported the cups and plates they'd used for lunch to the kitchen sink. The activity gave her time to strip the emotion from her voice. “Nothing's going on. Just ordinary couple stuff.”

Like I caught him kissing a man. That's ordinary couple stuff, right?

“The two of you have never been an ordinary couple.”

Emily turned to face her sister. She ran her gaze over Hope's super short blonde hair, the row of earrings in her ears and the rose tattoo that peeked out above the low-rise waistband of her jeans. “Since when has ordinary been the standard as far as you're concerned?”

Hope's lips twitched. “Point taken. I'm just checking on you, sis. You're always looking after me and Penny, making sure we have everything we need. It's time we started doing the same for you.”

A tightness took hold of Emily's throat. Her voice came out raspy. “Hope, that's so sweet and thoughtful of you.”

“Ack. Don't bloody cry about it.” Hope grimaced. “This is why I don't tell you things.”

“You don't tell me things because you're afraid you'll shock me.”

“That too.” Hope brought the condiments they'd used over to the kitchen counter and slid them toward Emily, who put them away in the cupboard. When she turned back, Hope was leaning her elbows on the counter, watching her with eyes the most unusual blue-green that Emily had ever seen. “Seriously, sis. If Brand has stepped out of line, I'm perfectly willing to sock him one.”

“You couldn't take him.”

“I may be small, but I'm scrappy.”

“Don't I know it.”

They'd gotten into more than one physical altercation in their growing years. Born prematurely, so prematurely she'd spent the first month of her life in a humidicrib, Hope had always been small for her age. But she made up for her lack of stature with a wealth of attitude and a never-say-die mentality. She also had a mean uppercut. By comparison, Emily “fought like a girl”. She'd never been a match for Hope.

“So…?”

The confession was on the tip of Emily's tongue. The urge to unload her anguish, to have someone help her make sense of it, was strong. But this was Hope, and Hope already didn't trust Brand. Emily's instinct to protect him, as misplaced as it might be under the circumstances, was stronger than her need to talk. She smiled and ruffled Hope's hair, knowing how much that would annoy her. “I'm fine. Stop worrying.”

Hope scowled and finger combed her hair back into its spiky style. “Watch the product, Em. I could always sock you instead of Brand.”

“You planning an attack on me, Hope?”

They both turned at the sound of Brand's voice. He was standing in the hallway. He must have gotten caught in the drizzle while out on his ride, because his shirt clung damply to his large frame and a sheen of moisture glistened on his neck. Emily responded to the sight of him with a rush of heat and a throbbing at the juncture of her thighs. He was so damn big, so sexy. The fact they hadn't had sex in almost four days left a hollow ache inside her.

Jet thinks he's sexy too. Jet throbs and aches for him, and it seems to be mutual.

“You tell me,” Hope responded to Brand, cocking a hip and planting a hand on it. “Do I need to teach you a lesson about something?”

Emily groaned. “Hope…”

“Maybe.” Brand brushed aside Emily's attempt to stop her sister and came farther into the room. He held Hope's gaze with his steady gray one. “I hurt your sister. I didn't mean to, but it happened. I've apologized, but she's not ready to forgive me. What do you think? Would you give me a second chance?”

Hope considered him in silence, perhaps as stunned by his earnest announcement as Emily was. Brand always kept his cards close to his chest, especially around her family. To see him display this level of honesty with Hope, who'd always been his most vocal opponent, left Emily speechless.

At length, Hope said, “I suppose that depends.”

“On what?”

“On how much you're willing to grovel.”

“As much as it takes.” Brand turned from Hope to Emily, repeating his vow as his eyes settled on her. “As much as it takes, sweetheart.”

The constriction in Emily's throat intensified, making it hard to swallow. She stared at Brand, her eyes stinging and her pulse pounding. Inside she was a riot of motion, yet she remained rooted to the spot in the kitchen, frozen by the look of determination in Brand's eyes.

“Well, that's my cue.” Hope's voice came to her as though from far away. “He starts calling you sweetheart and I'm done. Talk to you later, Em.”

Emily tore her gaze away from Brand long enough to mutter a goodbye to Hope. Then she turned her attention to the sink, where she robotically rinsed the mugs and plates they'd used for lunch. The roar of Hope's jeep starting up and then climbing through the gears as she drove it away accompanied the sound of water sloshing over crockery.

All the while Emily felt Brand's eyes upon her. When they were alone at last, she sensed his approach. Despite his damp state, his body heat reached out to her. When he placed a hand on her shoulder, Emily stiffened, every sense going on full alert.

“Will that help, Em? If I grovel and beg your forgiveness? Because I will if it's what you want.”

Emily couldn't speak, too confounded by the idea of Brand groveling to answer his question. In response to her silence, he lowered to his knees behind her. His big hands splayed on her hips, sending heat darting to her center. Then he inched her shirt upward, leaned forward and pressed his cool lips to the exposed flesh of her lower back.

Emily trembled as he repeated the maneuver again and again, his lips growing warm from the contact with her fevered skin. Brand moved upward, placing whispery kisses along the indents of her spine, tracing the shape of her hips and waist with his fingers. All the while rasping the same two words over and over.

I'm sorry.

When his fingertips grazed the underside of her breasts, Emily turned to liquid fire. Her muscles seemed to melt, but when she sagged Brand caught her. He stood once more and turned her so she was cradled in his arms. She couldn't look away from the raw expression of painful regret on his face.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart,” he said again, stroking her face with one hand while anchoring her body to his with the other. “I love you. Can you forgive me?”

“Brand…” Emily's voice trembled. She loved this man so much that it was impossible not to be moved by his sincere apology. Yet when he touched his lips to hers, it was Jet she saw him kissing in her mind's eye.

With Jet he'd been rough, conquering. With her he was gentle, his lips as soft as silk as they covered hers, his tongue politely questing as it sought entry to her mouth. Emily drove her fingers into his short hair, urging him closer as she offered herself up. He deepened the kiss, but denied her what she craved.

She wanted the same desperate hunger she'd seen him display with Jet. She'd always sensed it in him but he'd never unleashed it on her. Why not? Why Jet and not her?

Emily moved her hands to his shoulders, started tearing at his shirt. She wanted it off. She wanted him naked and thrusting hard inside her. To telegraph her needs, she rocked her hips, rubbing her denim-covered mound against the bulge behind Brand's damp jeans.

Jet had rubbed against him like that, and Brand had groaned with a wild hunger she'd never heard come out of him before.

Brand tore his mouth away from hers. “Let me take you to bed.”

“No. Here.” Emily nipped at his lower lip. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders. “Fuck me here.”

“Em…”

Brand dove back into kissing her, but Emily sensed his reluctance. Impatiently, she grabbed his wrist and brought his hand to her breast. Her aching nipple stabbed at his palm even through her shirt. With a muttered epithet, he massaged her flesh, teasing the tortured peak to even greater hardness.

Emily arched into the caress, arousal reaching fever pitch. She popped open two of Brand's shirt buttons, desperate for skin-to-skin contact. His chest was warm and damp, thick with toned muscle. She shifted her hand downward, ripping open two more buttons so she could touch his abdomen.