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I do, my eyes almost cross inward because of his proximity, but I do. I hold my breath.
“We’re not fucking related, Saint. She lied.”
My world stops spi
“She. Lied.”
“How do you know?” I let out. “How can you be so sure?”
Brantley snickers. “Because Hector, though so hard to fucking believe, never stuck his dick inside my mother.”
A heaviness I didn’t realize I was carrying shifts off me. We’re not related. I didn’t do anything wrong. I take a second to recollect myself and my thoughts as a dark cloud slowly moves away from me. He backs away, but my hand flies up to his collar, stopping him. “Don’t you dare walk away without kissing me.”
He snarls at me. “I’m not kissing shit until you tell me that you didn’t let that piece of shit near you.”
“Brantley.” I grit my teeth. “The fact you even ask me that insults me.”
His jaw flexes. “Did he touch you?”
I shove him in the chest, reaching for the door handle and needing a desperate talk with my friends. “Shove your kiss. I don’t want it anymore.” I go to leave with the door wide open, but he wraps my hair around his fist, tugs me back, and slams the door closed again. He spins me around and lifts me from the ground, my legs wrapping around his waist. “Don’t. Fucking. Test. Me, Saint. I’ve got blood on my hands from the days I spent thinking I had fucked my half sister. The rage I accumulated in those days alone could match the ones my demons created all of my life. I would not fucking play with me right now.”
I rest both of my hands on his cheeks as some of that darkness dissolves in his eyes. Not all. Not even a quarter. Just a sprinkle. Enough to let me get through his rage. “I didn’t touch him.”
He searches my face. “I know.”
I glare at him. “Let me go. You piss me off.”
He bites my bottom lip into his mouth and nibbles on it. “You’re in love with me? I don’t recommend that.”
“I am,” I say, ru
The nibbling slowly turns to kissing, and I part my lips for him to enter, sliding my tongue over his. I curl my arm around his neck as he holds me up against the wall and we both lose ourselves in each other. Just kissing. Nothing more. Something so intimate that you wouldn’t expect someone so cold like Brantley to be so damn good at.
He stops, slowly lowering me to the floor. “You’re lucky I don’t tear that dress off you and fuck you until you’re blue.” I begin straightening myself.
“Why don’t you?” I tease boldly, though I’m glad he doesn’t right now because we’ve still got a little while to go tonight.
He smirks down at me. “Oh, I will.” He reaches for my hand, yanking me into his chest. His fingers intertwine with mine. “But you can’t fuck a bride in her wedding dress before she’s even married.” What? I look down at the heavy cool metal that’s sliding over my ring finger and pause. A rock almost the size of the entire lower half of my finger glistens back at me.
He smiles darkly at me, the corners of his mouth too fucking smug to be on a face this damn evil. “All. Fucking. Mine.”