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“So what if you did?” He grinned. “You can do anything you want.”
This time, it was me who leaned over and kissed him. He tasted like strawberries.
Brant pulled me across his lap so I straddled him. This wasn’t normally a position I enjoyed—it always made me feel so big and awkward, like a drunken yak. But it felt too good for me to worry about it.
Even though I was on top, he was still very much in control. His hands were under my shirt, cupping my breasts—I’d swear he had extra limbs if I hadn’t seen him naked. It seemed he could touch me everywhere at once.
He moved from my mouth to my neck, biting and licking, and I braced my hands on his shoulders.
God, we were making out like teenagers in the driveway. “What if someone sees us?” I panted.
“Let them watch and wish they were you.” He grasped my hips and pulled me harder against him, grinding us into each other.
Just like everything else with Brant, it felt too good to stop. His Mustang hid us from the road, and the bushes would probably block the neighbor’s view. Probably. But with the pleasure building, I didn’t care.
I could’ve done any number of things. Suggested we go inside, dragged him into the backseat of his car, anything but what I did.
Because just as Brant brought me off, Kieran pulled into the driveway behind Brant’s car.
Our eyes met, and I knew I was making my “O” face.
But I didn’t look away and I sure as hell didn’t tell Brant to stop.
Kieran didn’t look away either.
Those seconds seemed to last for years. I drowned in bliss, and Kieran. Except when the storm passed, I looked away, embarrassed.
“Shit. Kieran’s back.” I straightened my clothes.
“It’s not like he’s your dad.”
I scrambled to my feet. “No, but…he saw me.”
“So?”
“Brant! Can we just go? Please?”
“Yeah.” He got to his feet. “Where do you want to go?”
“Wherever.”
“You should at least say goodbye,” he said after he stood.
“Why?” No, there was no reason for that.
“Because April is in the car with him.”
It shouldn’t have felt like getting kicked in the gut, but it did. What did it matter that April came back with him? I was dry-humping in the driveway with his co-worker.
“Did we interrupt something?” April asked when she got out of the car.
I looked back and forth between Kieran and Brant. Kieran looked like a storm cloud and Brant seemed very pleased with himself.
“No. We were done. We’re heading to Roadhouse for some steak.”
April slid a sideways glance to Kieran. “Steak sounds really good.”
I knew the polite thing to do would be to invite her—them, but I didn’t want to.
“You guys can come if you want,” Brant said.
“I’m actually kind of tired,” Kieran answered, his eyes never leaving my face. “You guys go. I’ll catch a nap.”
I swallowed hard, unable to remember why what he’d said had made me so angry to begin with. “Don’t watch AHS without me.”
He smiled then, but it was a slow, sad sort of expression. “Never.”
“April and I can run to Roadhouse and get carryout,” Brant offered.
I was starting to think he was the devil.
“Would you? Man, that sounds great,” Kieran said.
“I—” April broke off.
“You can help carry.” He opened the passenger door before sliding in the driver’s seat. “Come here,” he said to me.
I leaned over and stuck my head through the window. “What?”
“Fix your shit.” He kissed me and then whispered in my ear again. “Whether you want to fuck us both or not is irrelevant. You guys have baggage from earlier. Get rid of it. For all our sakes, okay?”
He was right. I needed to be a grown up, which really wasn’t anywhere near as cool as it was cracked up to be. “Yeah,” I agreed. “And uh, bring me some of those rolls with the honey cinnamon butter.”
“You got it, gorgeous.” He winked.
And it reminded me of April’s party at The Rooster, when Kieran winked at me and my life as I knew it was launched on its ass.
April got in the car reluctantly and mouthed “We need to talk.”
Probably, but I didn’t want to.
What could I say to her, anyway? I certainly didn’t want to hear what she had to say.
Brant pulled out of the driveway before I could say anything anyway.
Suddenly I felt naked and exposed.
I didn’t want to be alone with him because it meant facing that we’d crossed a line. I knew we’d crossed it, but if neither of us acknowledged it aloud, maybe we could uncross it. Or at least ignore it until things were back to normal.
