3:AM Kisses

  Baya pulls me in and melts her lips over mine. She offers slow, lingering kisses that scrape the pain out of the deepest part of me—that have the ability to cleanse my mortal soul. Baya should store her affection and sell it as a balm. She’s the light at the end of this very dark tunnel. And, if she keeps leading me by the heartstrings, I think I might make it out alive.

  “Maybe we should go down to dinner,” I whisper. I’m hoping that will brush the patina of grief off this night. I’m ready to galvanize my relationship with Baya, and the last thing I want to do is focus on the tragedy in my life.

  “Dinner sounds great.”

  She’ll change her mind once she tries Mom’s cooking, but I’ll let her decipher that for herself.

  Downstairs, Mom and Annie have already set the table, so we take our seats. Nitro sits dutifully next to Baya and me, and, I’m sure between the two of us, he’ll score more of Mom’s questionable food than he’ll want. Mom dishes out the gumbo, and I watch as Baya eyes the concoction as if an alligator might pop out—and, knowing Mom, it might.

  “So”—Mom steadies her eyes over Baya with that peace about her that I was hoping for—“Bryson mentioned you were from Texas. What made you choose Whitney Briggs?”

  “My dad.” She glances over at me and gives a sad smile. “He went there. My brother and I both wanted to attend, especially after he passed away.” She pauses a second, and my heart breaks for her. “He was struck by a drunk driver while he was on his bike. He was a cyclist. He loved to ride.”

  I don’t remember her mentioning a drunk driver—and here I have her working at a fucking bar. Crap.

  “I’m so sorry.” Mom touches her hand to her lips. Annie looks equally distraught, so I don’t bother translating. “Bryson has had nothing but nice things to say about your brother. I’d love to meet him one day. He’s been rather an enigma these past few years. Maybe he can come with you next time?”

  Baya shifts uncomfortably in her seat. Mom doesn’t realize that if we brought Cole, bulletproof vests might be necessary—for me anyway.

  “I think that would be great.” Baya’s lips rubber band into the world’s quickest smile. “You have a beautiful home.” She looks from Mom to Annie.

  And, so it goes, with the on again off again, awkward dinner conversion until finally Annie offers to clear the dishes.

  “Baya”—Mom folds her hands where her plate once sat—“tell me how you and Bryson met.”

  Shit.

  I blink a smile over at Baya, and my gaze dips to her chest a moment. Her perfect tits were the ultimate hello, but I’ll be the last to admit it to my mother.

  “I…” Her teeth graze her lips. Baya is cute as hell when she’s in hot water. “I was struggling with my luggage and he offered to help.”

  Well done. I raise my brows at her. And points for telling the truth.

  “What a gentleman.” Mom swoons into the idea. “That’s my Bry, Bry…”

  And it’s a wrap.

  I push my seat out. “Baya, you want to help with dessert?”

  “Yes.” She hops up so fast, you’d think her feet were on springs.

  Baya and I make our way to the kitchen where Annie already has the dishwasher running.

  Annie signs over to me. You found a good one. I’m proud of you. She wraps her arms around me for a brief second. You deserve to be happy, even though I know you don’t think so.

  I give her a firm hug before she waves at Baya and leaves the room.

  “I like your sister.” Baya pulls me in by the belt loop. Her perfume swoops around me like a vanilla whisper.

  “She likes you, too. So does my mom.”

  “So I got the seal of approval?” She dips her chin just enough to let me know she’s flirting.

  “It doesn’t really matter what they think.” I dot a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I’d love you anyway.”

  There it is again, that L word. I’m not so sure she’s comfortable with me using it so liberally, but I can’t help it. I’m in so fucking deep, I can’t see straight. I’m head over heels—all of my sanity has left the building. My lips find their way to hers, and Baya grazes over my tongue with her teeth. My hands glide up her sweater and round out over her hips. I love touching Baya this way. Having the freedom to do so without thinking Cole might lodge a hatchet in my skull from behind.

  A loud clatter erupts, and we both jump.

  “Sorry!” Mom freezes, doing her best impersonation of a deer in the headlights. “I was just passing through and dropped this.” She holds up an aluminum tray.

  “We were just about to bake cookies,” Baya says it so fast, it sounds like the excuse it is.

  “Not a problem. I’m off to bed. Goodnight!” Mom zips out of the kitchen so quick you’d think she saw a ghost.

  “That wasn’t awkward.” Baya’s dimples press in as she frowns.

  “Well, I’d hate for you to be a liar. It looks like we’d better do some baking.” I wrap my arms back around her waist. “Hey”—I pull her in as the smile melts from my face—“I don’t remember you telling me the details about your dad.” The truth is I hardly have the guts to go there.

  She lowers her lashes and blows a breath over my chest. “That’s exactly what happened.”

  “Is that why you don’t drink?”

  “Only partially.” She shrinks a little. “Is that lame? I really don’t care for the smell, so I assume the taste is not far off.”

  “No, it’s not lame. There’s nothing lame about you. Does it bother you to work at the bar?”

  She shakes her head. “In fact, I always offer to call a cab for someone before they take off, and twice already I’ve been taken up on it. It feels good to know that I might be averting another tragedy.” She shrugs. “Is that silly?”

  “That’s damn right heroic.” I land a careful kiss over her lips. “How about we implement a program where we make it routine to ask if anyone needs a cab?”

  “That would be great.”

  “What was your dad’s name?” I wince when I say the word, was.

  “Charlie.”

  “We can call it Charlie’s Plan.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Yes.” I brush her hair from her eyes. “Hell, yes.”

  “And”—she gives a coy smile—“if they’re really ripped and refuse our offer, we can implement the Sorry Charlie program and take away their keys.”

  “Sounds like a master plan. I’ll get that going at all three sites.” I pull her in and rock her slowly while dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “Now, let’s bake some cookies, girl.”

  Baya and I tag-team the kitchen, preheating the oven and one another the way we keep stealing kisses. Baya is hotter than a firecracker the way she holds the spatula, the way she dips her finger into the side of the bowl and licks it clean.

  I can feel my hard-on begging to tick to life, and it’s taking all of my self-control not to bend her over the counter and take her like I want. That’s not entirely true, I’d like to make love to her, slow and easy, all night if she’d let me, even though hot-counter sex is pretty high on the list.

  The timer goes off, and Baya pulls out the first batch.

  “Smells like heaven.” She closes her eyes while hovering above them. She looks lost in ecstasy, her lips parting as if they’re begging for just one bite.

  I’m ready to fall into the heaven that is Baya Brighton, and I’m hoping she’s ready, too.

  After a small eternity of feeding each other chocolate chips by way of our teeth, we bring a batch of cookies over to Annie and her friend. They’re sitting on the floor in a pile of pillows, so Baya and I opt for the couch, and settle in to watch the movie. Nitro comes and circles around our feet until he’s passed out from all the excitement.

  It’s a chick flick, which usually makes me squirm, but I’ve seen this one before and actually found it somewhat entertaining. Annie and her buddy are completely engrossed, so Baya and I snuggle up without reservation.
She smooths her hand over my chest, and I snatch it up and bury a kiss in her palm.

  “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could do this when we got back?” she whispers. Her eyes sparkle in the light as she gives a weary smile.

  “We will do this when we get back.” I tighten my grip around her waist, and Baya slides over, filling in the gap between us. “It just might be a while before it actually happens.” Cole pops to mind. We both know he’s the only thing standing between the two of us enjoying a movie in one another’s arms back at the apartment.

  “I hate the thought of it being a while.” She twirls her fingers through my hair.

  “Me, too.” I tuck my hand down under her shirt just enough to feel her warm, smooth skin. I’d hate for Annie to look back and see me feeling up my girlfriend, so I try to keep it discrete.

  “Hey,” I whisper brushing my lips over her brow. “You know what I just realized?”

  “How much better the cookies taste because I made them?” She runs her fingers over my ribs, and I can feel a dull ache of pleasure trail all the way down to my balls.

  “I won’t contest that.” I burrow my face into her neck. “But, actually, I was thinking—” On second thought it’s ridiculous to announce to someone you consider them your girlfriend. It’s funny, though, because I’ve felt a strong connection to her right from the beginning.

  “What?” She touches her finger over my lips, and the heat factor rises in my jeans. “Tell me, or I’ll tickle you, and if you try to tickle me back, your sister and her friend will throw their shoes at your privates. It’s girl code.”

  “They’re not wearing any shoes.” I nod over to their feet waving in the air as they lie on their bellies. “But, just in case they’re within reach”—a small laugh rumbles from me as I touch my lips to her ear—“I was just thinking how special you are—how we’re together. You know, you’re my girlfriend.” My Adam’s apple rises and falls as I swallow hard. It takes all of my strength to keep thoughts of the past at bay. My finger floats to her mouth, and I trace out the smile taking over.

  “Really?” She scoots her head onto my shoulder to get a better look at me. “I’m honored to be your girlfriend.” She leans in and passes her lips over mine, soft as air. “Thank you.”

  “I’m the thankful one,” I blow it hot in her ear.

  Baya tucks in closer until she’s partially sitting on my lap, and my dick does its best to salute her.

  Shit. I move a little to the left to divert a full-blown situation from presenting itself, but Baya jumps on board without hesitating, and I pull her in close, hoping she won’t notice.

  “Someone is happy to see me.” Her bottom lip curves into a delicious smile. “You want to take this party someplace else?”

  “I would if I felt like I could walk across the room.” I seal my lips over her neck.

  The movie ends in a blur. But I couldn’t focus on it anyway, not with Baya taking up all my available brain cells—the rush of blood she’s sending to stray parts of my body. Not that I mind. I plan on reverting all of my focus to Baya from now on. It feels good to love someone again—and to have them love me back.

  “You want to get to bed?” I pull her up off the couch.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  6

  Stay with Me Play with Me

  Baya

  It’s quiet in the Edwards’ home after midnight. Annie and her friend are clear down the hall, and I have no clue where his mother’s room is in conjunction to Bryson’s, but that’s not going to stop me, or my quivering parts, from bunking up with him.

  I brush my teeth and change into something a lot more comfortable—a hell of a lot easier to take off on command like my tank top and Whitney Briggs boy-shorts that barely hug my hips. But for the sake of trekking down the hall, I don a cardigan that acts as a robe.

  I give a gentle knock over his door and it cracks open, exposing his gorgeous denim-blue eyes smiling back at me. If he thinks I’m letting a perfectly good Bryson Edwards go to waste tonight, he’s got another thing coming—hopefully him—and, greedily, me.

  “Who is it?” He gravels it out low and deep.

  “Girl Scout. I come bearing cookies.”

  “Well, then.” The door glides open. “Who the hell am I to turn down a Girl Scout?” Bryson pulls me in with a devilish gleam in his eye. He locks the door behind us and flicks off the lights. The moon filters into the room and washes the floor—his bed in a steady cascade of winter white, pale as a blanket of snow. “Come here,” he whispers as his lips press over mine. He walks me backward over to the mattress until we fall onto it with him lying beside me. I swim up to his pillow and nestle my head into it. The entire room smells clean like fabric softener and bleach as if the sheets were just changed.

  “Comfy,” I muse.

  “So where are the cookies?”

  “Would you believe that I’m hiding them somewhere on my person, and it’s up to you to find them?” I lift my knee over his back and rub down to his thigh, hard and steady.

  “It’s on.” He growls it out sexy as hell. “I’m planning an extensive search, but I doubt I’ll find them.”

  “That’s because you already ate them—greedy bastard.”

  Bryson lights up the room with a dark laugh and pulls me in tight with his hand heavy on my bottom. “I am a greedy bastard. I want all of you.”

  I take him in like this, sheer perfection.

  He’s right here, and I want nothing more than to close the gap between us until he falls into me. I’m boiling over, ready to have him, ready for him to have me any way he wishes.

  I stretch my arms up over my head and wriggle my body into his mattress.

  His chest ticks with a silent laugh. “Whatever it is you’re doing, keep doing it.” A seam of moonlight catches his features, exposing the fact he clearly approves.

  “I’m settling in.” I twist my hips into the bed. “I think I could get a good night’s sleep here.”

  “Oh sweetie”—he growls it out as the smile slides off his face —“if you spent the night in my room, there wouldn’t be a whole hell of a lot of sleeping going on.” His fiery breath sears over my mouth like a promise. “And, if you did happen to fall asleep, I’d be guilty of doing something very, very wrong.”

  My fingers run down his granite-like abs and unbutton his jeans. I glide down the bed and plant a kiss just above his boxers.

  “I don’t plan on sleeping,” I say, it low like a threat. “And neither should you.”

  His cheek flexes on one side and a dimple depresses.

  Holy crap. Bryson is going to have me writhing on his bed before he ever touches me. That sweet spot between my legs spasms in agreement.

  “God, you’re gorgeous,” I whisper, lifting my hand to conform to his features.

  “Hey, that’s my line.” He picks my hand up and presses a wet kiss over my finger.

  “Is it just a line?” I take him in like this, under the supervision of a powder soft moon.

  “It’s never just a line,” he moans as his milk-white teeth skim over his lip. “Everything I say to you is the God’s honest truth.” His chin dips just a notch. “You, Baya, are fit to be hewn from marble. Every artist, every poet should be so lucky to venerate your beauty. You’re a work of art, straight from the master. Every woman on the planet should lament the fact she’s not you.” He swallows loud with a click, and his hand shakes as it settles over my cheek. “I want you, Baya.” His voice trembles.

  “I want you, too.” I take in a breath and wait for something unexpected to happen.

  His mouth opens slightly, and for a second, I think he’s going to devour me—I pray that he will.

  “I want to be with you,” I say it plain as day in the event there was any confusion. “Now would be nice,” I whisper. I don’t think I could make it any clearer unless he prefers a physical cue, and dear God that is the very next step. I reach down and dip my hand into his jeans, touching the soft curls at the
base of his boxers.

  “Baya.” His eyes close a moment as his features grow all too serious, his smile melts away like candle wax. Bryson pulls me out slowly, as if he were an unwilling partner in evicting my fingers. “You don’t want it like this.” He shakes his head just barely. “Not with my mom and sister down the hall. I want your first time to be incredible.” He dots each of my fingers with a kiss, and a line of fire tracks down each one of them. “If you feel the need to scream out my name, and you will—” he holds his finger over my lips, his expression vexingly sober—“I want you to feel free—unrestrained.”

  A moan escapes me at the thought of shouting out his name, hell, just being near him like this feels like a privilege.

  “I guess you’re right.” I swim back up to him. “And, for the record, waiting is just this side of torture.” I nudge his foot with mine. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t spend the night, right?”

  He traces his hand over mine, slow, like honey dripping off my skin. “I’ll be the last person to kick you out of bed.” Bryson tucks his chin and looks demonically sexy from this angle. It makes me want him twice as bad.

  “I guess it’s better that nothing serious happens. I’m not ready to disappoint you just yet.”

  His head ticks back a notch. “You could never disappoint me.” He runs his finger down the curve of my cheek, melts it down past my neck and stops just shy of my cleavage.

  “Yeah, well, I’m sure it’ll be awkward, so I apologize in advance for dragging you to the Baya-loses-her-virginity party.” I glance down at my shorts a moment. “I want to know everything. I want you to teach me.”

  “Hey.” Bryson scoots in until his body adheres to mine and rides his warm hand up and down my back. “There’s no party I’d rather be at.” He cinches a sad smile in his cheek. “And believe me, if I weren’t invited I’d be pretty ticked.” He rumbles in my ear with a kiss. His heart beats over my shoulder like a hammer, straight to the bone. “And I will teach you. Trust me, I plan on leaving no stone unturned. It will be a thorough, thorough lesson. I promise.” He holds up a hand like a Boy Scout. “You’re going to be amazing. I already know this.” Bryson growls into his words as if there were a psychotically sexy threat imbedded in there somewhere, and my insides cinch.