“What movie is it?”
Braden wrinkles his nose. “Uh, good question.”
I laugh, and he pulls a box out from under his bed. “Chances are, most of these belong to Megan, so there could be anything in here.”
I shift on the bed, turning sideways, and I hang my head over the side of the bed. Braden bats my hair away.
“Hey!” I protest.
“It tickles.” He grins, opening the box. He's right. It's full, and at least three-quarters of visible movies belong to Megan.
“Wow.” I look in the box. “What are we watching?”
He shrugs. “I don't know.”
“You told me to come here to watch a movie.” I half-smile at him. “Did you even have anything in mind then?”
“Uh, no?” he says sheepishly. “It was a spur of the moment thing, Angel.”
I sigh and start digging through the box. “Guys. If you want something done, do it yourself,” I mutter.
“Does that account for orgasms too?”
“What?” I stop, blink and look at him.
“The do it yourself thing.” He grins, and I laugh, hiding my face.
“No, they are an exception to that rule.”
“Oh, good.” He kisses the side of my mouth. “Because I'd hate to never give you another one.”
My cheeks heat up and yet again I wonder about his ability to make me blush.
“I like it when you blush.” He presses his cheek against mine.
“Why?” I smile. “Oh wait, let me guess. It reminds you of an orgasm?”
“Mind reader.” He brushes his lips along my cheek, his breath hot on my ear. “It reminds me of when I made you come. That's exactly why I like it.”
His hand moves to cup my other cheek, and I tilt my face into his. He moves his face, and his mouth finds mine, taking it in a kiss that damn near takes my breath away. My arm stretches, my hand rests on the side of his neck, and my lips caress his.
I nip his bottom lip and he moves to stand, helping me roll over on the bed. His arms scoop me up and reposition me in the center of the bed, his body on top of me, pressing into me. Hard.
He probes my mouth with his tongue, and I meet his kiss with the same fervor. My free hand snakes to his back and under his shirt as he sweeps his tongue through my mouth, eliciting a silent moan from me. His back muscles flex under my fingers as he shifts slightly, and my fingers dig into his skin.
One of his hands is in my hair, tangled in the curls, and the other is exploring my body. It slides down the curve of my waist to my hip, down my thigh and back up again. His thumb brushes the underside of my breast, and even fully clothed, I feel it as if it was skin on skin.
His mouth travels across my jaw and down my neck, peppering hot kisses across my skin – and suddenly, suddenly it's not enough.
I want it all. Not because of the challenge, or because it's what the girls want.
I want him because I want him.
And I don't know what to do about that.
“I could kiss you all day,” Braden whispers.
I smile, unable to form any words, and hold him close to me.
I'm spinning in my own mind. Want is okay. Want is a natural thing, right? Like Megan said – pheromones or something. It's human nature to be attracted to someone, especially someone like Braden. It's okay that my body and my mind aren't on the same page. Yep. Perfectly okay, because want isn't love.
“Shall we watch that movie?” Braden asks.
“Yeah,” I reply. “Whichever one.”
He nods and kisses my temple, getting off the bed, and me. Despite the temperature still being above sixty, I'm suddenly cold.
Braden puts a disk in the DVD player and pulls off his top, giving me a chance to admire his chest. Not that I haven't before, but it definitely feels much more appropriate to do so as his “girlfriend”. He's all smooth, sleek muscle. He's not overly built, but he's lean and defined in a way that would make most girls cry. It probably has made most girls cry.
And I'm back in the game, with just that thought. Operation Play the Player. Everything about him screams player, and every scream just reminds me of why I can't want him. Why I shouldn't want him. Every scream reminds me of Pearce and Abbi.
I drop my eyes as he hands me my bag. “You can get changed here, or in the bathroom across the hall.”
“Umm, I think I forgot my pajamas.” I glance up at him and smile.
“Oh.” He turns, opens a drawer and pulls out a shirt. “Here.” He grins, and I take it from him, sweeping past him.
In the bathroom, I strip and put on the black underwear Megan insisted I wear. I pull Braden's shirt over my head, feeling the tickle of the hem at the top of my thighs. A quick run of my brush through my hair and I step back into the hall – straight into Kyle.
Well, this is awkward. I haven't really spoken to him since last week when Braden ended up pinning him to the wall.
“Uh, hey, Kyle.” I say quietly.
“Maddie,” he responds, his eyes pinned to my legs.
I clear my throat, and he looks up. “How are you?”
“Fine. You?”
“Yeah, I'm good.” I glance behind him towards Braden's shut door.
“So you really are then? With him?”
“Kyle.”
“Sorry.” He holds his hands up. “Just... Be careful, yeah, Mads? I don't want to see him hurt you. You're too good for that.”
I touch his arm. “I won't, Kyle, don't worry.”
Braden's door opens, and he looks at us for a second before he registers it's Kyle I'm talking to. “Not chatting my girl up again, are you, Kyle?”
“Wouldn't dream of it, Braden,” he replies, his eyes on mine. “She's all yours.”
I look down and step around him towards Braden.
“Good thing, too. I'd hate to slam you against the wall again.”
I scoff, shaking my head and push past him into his room. What is it with males and their need to be absolute neanderthals?
I chuck my bag down, and he shuts the door. “What was that about?”
“You're asking me that?” I raise my eyebrows and look at him. “What was that about, Braden? Can I not even talk to Kyle now?”
“Of course you can, but excuse me for being a bit pissed when you're talking to him wearing my shirt.”
“Isn't that the point? Wearing your shirt. It's obvious who I 'belong' to, as you so eloquently put it last week, so there's no need to go all caveman on anyone who speaks to me.”
“How did I go caveman? 'Cause I don't get it.”