Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Pierce

T he sofa bed turns out to have the worst mattress I’ve ever slept on, so I toss and turn all night, listening to Brynn’s soft breathing in the dark. She’s so close that the desire to crawl in beside her and wrap my arms around her is a constant itch under my skin.

Today has been a complete whirlwind. I stare at the ceiling, trying to process that she’s here in the flesh. The one woman who has floated in and out of my mind every day since she left London.

I’m a smart man, and I don’t necessarily believe in soulmates. To many, it would sound stupid that one woman, one weekend could hold so much reverence, but that weekend was filled with magic. I can’t explain it.

But as I try to find sleep, my mind refuses to listen, and it floats to the morning after I brought her home and my desperation to make sure she didn’t leave.

A hand flung over my chest and a pile of hair in my mouth. My eyes sprang open to feel Brynn’s soft body wrapped around me. Her leg slid up my thigh, her knee gliding along my length that was already up and ready, but she spurred him into wanting action now.

I ran my hand down her back, thankful she hadn’t snuck out on me. I kissed the top of her head as if she’d been mine for years. She purred and tightened her arm around my middle.

“Spend the day with me?” I asked, putting myself and my intentions out there.

It was an unusual act for me, and I believed that the therapy I’d been going to for the past few years was finally working because I wanted to see where this went with Brynn. Following a connection was something I struggled with, but developing one so quickly was even more out of character for me.

She picked her head up, resting her chin on my chest, and stared at me for a long time. I bent one arm along my pillow, my hand cradling my head to meet her eyes.

“Okay,” she said, and I couldn’t believe she accepted.

I flipped her to her back, and she yelped, giggling until I widened her legs with my thighs, spreading her open. I slid my body down the length of hers, pushing her thighs further to fit my shoulders, and I lost myself in her for another hour before I had enough willpower to get out of bed.

We showered, and I made her some toast before we headed out of the house.

“This feels weird,” she said, fixing the T-shirt I’d given her to wear.

“I wish you would have worn my boxers.” I swung my arm around her waist and tugged her closer to me.

“Why?” Her head rested on my shoulder, and she stared up at me, her brown eyes making my breath hitch.

“Because now I have to try not to think about how you don’t have any knickers on all day. Imagine if you had worn a dress last night.” I groaned.

She smiled up at me, and a thrill shot through my body. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours, and I already knew it was different. She was different.

“We could go back to your place.” Her finger trailed down the front of my shirt.

“We will, but let’s get you that coffee first.”

“Yes, please.”

I directed her into the small café on the corner by my flat. It was busy since it was Sunday, and we stood in line with her arms around my waist, my arm slung around her, pressing her to my body as though we were in love. And it felt really bloody good that she seemed to be as into me as I was into her. On a normal day, I would have been annoyed to spend so long in line, but with her, I could have stayed there forever.

We stepped up when it was our turn, and she rambled off her coffee order, as I did mine. I paid, then we followed the line and waited for my name to be called, still in each other’s arms. My name was called, and I reluctantly broke apart from her and grabbed our coffees, taking them both to the counter with the milk and sugar.

She added a bit of cream, but no sugar.

I added cream and some cinnamon to mine.

“You’re adding cinnamon?” she asked.

I nodded, holding it out for her.

“Can I try yours first to see if I like it?” She held out her hand, and I passed my coffee to her.

I watched her lips cover the rim of the cup, remembering them wrapped around my cock the night before.

Her eyes widened. “That’s so good.” She went to hand me back my coffee, but I shooed the cup away.

“Take it.” I picked up hers and added cinnamon to it.

We walked out of the café, and she couldn’t stop remarking about how delicious the coffee was with cinnamon. I had to admit, I liked that I was able to introduce her to something new.

I led her to a park, and we sat on a bench, people watching while we drank our coffee.

“Tell me something about you,” she asked.

We’d shared silly superficial things about one another the night before. I wanted to get to know her better, but at the same time, I loved that she didn’t know everything about my past. It tended to make people feel sorry for me, and I hated it.

“What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Tell me a food you hate that most people love.”

I chuckled and shook my head. “Pizza. I’m not a pizza guy.”

She balked. “How is that possible? Maybe you just haven’t had the right pizza.”

“That’s what everyone says. If it has dough, cheese, and sauce, I’m not a fan.”

She dropped her feet to the cement to stand, pretending she was going to walk away. “Sorry, I gotta go.”

I tugged on the back of her light jacket, and she fell to my side, laughing.

“Fine, I’ll try pizza,” I said because I’d do about anything to keep her right next to me.

“Look how we’re compromising.” She laughed again, and I tried to commit the sound to memory.

“So, what can’t I force you to eat?” I swung my arm over her shoulder to make sure she didn’t leave.

“Chocolate cake.” She cringed.

“I’m not really a cake person, so you’re safe there.”

She flipped around and propped one leg up on the bench, staring at me as if it might actually be the last straw. “How do you not like cake?”

“You just said you didn’t.” I chuckled.

“Chocolate cake I don’t like. But give me a white cake, a yellow cake. One filled with strawberries and whipped cream.” Her eyes rolled back in her head like they had when she came this morning.

“You’re making me jealous of cake.”

Her hand splayed on my chest, her fingers trailing down the front of my shirt. She did that often, and I was really starting to love the casualness and closeness I felt.

“Oh, well, I like other things more than cake.” Her fingers continued their trail, dipping under the waistband of my jeans.

I looked around, but no one was paying us any attention. “Keep it up, and I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and lock you in my flat.”

Her head reared back in laughter. God, she was beautiful. I couldn’t believe she’d agreed to spend the day with me.

We finished our coffees, continuing to rank foods from our favorite to our least, never agreeing on one.

After throwing away our cups, we walked through the city, me pointing out little things to her. Every time her eyes lit up with interest, my chest puffed out, loving that I was the one introducing her to my city.

She pulled me into a small shop that looked more for tourists than locals, and I trailed behind her as she browsed. I couldn’t stop looking at her, committing her facial expressions to memory. Her excitement, her smiles, the way she would glance over her shoulder to make sure I was still there. I’d been closed off to almost everyone throughout my life, never allowing anyone to really know me, until her. It was as if she had a spell over me. I felt slightly out of control, and I didn’t care.

I twirled a display and picked up a keychain that said I Heart London with the Union Jack on it.

“What’s that?” Brynn came over and rested her head on my shoulder.

“A keychain I’m going to buy for you.”

She picked it out of my hand and ran her fingers over the words I Heart London. “You don’t have to buy it for me. I can buy it.”

“So, you like it?” I was unsure if she’d want it, but I felt she could take it home with her and remember our weekend.

I had no idea how long she was staying in London. If she was doing some kind of tour through Britain and Europe like so many Americans do. I should ask, but doing so would ultimately bring up the future and the fact that we didn’t live in the same country. I was afraid to get too deep and ruin our time together before it was necessary.

“I love it.” She went up to the checkout, and I slid my credit card across the counter.

“Pierce…”

I kissed her temple. “I want you to remember me,” I said, sounding like a complete fool.

“Is this a goodbye gift?”

I stared into her eyes. “No.”

The woman offered me a bag, but I shook my head and put the keychain in my pocket.

I felt as if we made a promise to one another right there. To allow ourselves that day in the bubble we’d created for each other. We’d deal with the questions of what it all meant later.

The problem was, we left that store, went back to my place, and spent the rest of our time in bed. We exchanged numbers when she said she had to leave my place on Sunday. And when she walked out my flat’s door, I felt sure that we’d start dating and figure out how we fit in each other’s lives.

But Monday changed everything.

I roll over and grip the pillow under my head, pushing the thoughts away so I don’t have to think of what a wanker I was to her. How I was the one who ruined it.