Chapter 4

Brandon

"Double shot of espresso,please, and a vanilla latte for the lady," I tell the barista, my voice a steady rhythm amidst the clinking of cups and the hiss of the steam wand at the café. It"s our regular spot, a cozy corner where Erica"s laughter often mingles with the scent of roasted beans. I glance back at her, my eyes tracing the curve of her smile, the way her hair tumbles like autumn leaves over her shoulders. She"s got this glow, you know? Like she carries her own personal sunrise wherever she goes.

As I wait for our order, that"s when he walks in.

Lucas.

I recognize him from Erica's social media pages.

The childhood buddy turned suave charmer with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. I have to admit that even though I know nothing ever happened between Erica and him, hearing about how close she was with this childhood friend made me all sorts of jealous.

I watch him. He"s all casual confidence, strolling through life like it owes him one. And suddenly, he"s making a beeline for Erica"s table, unaware I"m even in the picture, much less in her life.

My gut tightens, a coil of snakes awakened by the intrusion. I can"t hear their words from here, but I see the surprise flicker across Erica"s face, a storm of emotions passing through those expressive green eyes. Confusion, nostalgia—damn, it"s like watching a silent movie, and I"m not enjoying the show.

"Here you go, sir," the barista hands me the coffees, her cheerfulness lost on me. "Thanks," I mutter, but my focus is locked on the tableau unfolding across the room.

Lucas leans in, all smiles and reminiscence. Erica"s polite, yeah, but there"s a distance there, a wall she"s put up quicker than a New York minute. Still, it"s like a punch to the chest, watching them. My jaw clenches so hard I could chew nails for breakfast.

My feet itch to stalk over there, but I let the scene play out. Erica"s handling it, isn"t she? Doesn"t need me swooping in like some overprotective hawk. But damn, my fists are balled up tight, knuckles itching for something to hit.

"Sir, your coffees are getting cold," the barista gives me a nudge, snapping me back to the present. Right, the coffees. I grab the tray, the heat from the cups barely registering as I continue to watch my girl.

I can"t take it anymore. My boots pound the café floor like a drumbeat of war as I march toward their table. Erica"s eyes widen, but it"s Lucas who gets my glare, the kind that"s made grown men rethink their life choices.

"Erica," I say, my voice a low growl, "we need to talk."

She blinks at me, her mouth parting in surprise. Lucas, the smooth operator, tries to slide back into the conversation with a chuckle that grates on every last nerve I have. But I"m done playing nice.

I don"t wait for her response. I gently take her arm and pull her outside with me.

"Brandon?" Her voice is a mix of confusion and concern, but there"s a tremor there that tells me she feels the gravity of this moment too.

We burst out of the café, the cool air slapping some sense into me—but not enough to douse the fire raging inside. She"s right behind me, her steps quick and light, the opposite of the heavy thud of my heart.

"Brandon?" Erica"s voice is a tentative quesiton.

"Couldn"t sit there one more second watching him cozy up to you," I admit, my words tumbling out raw and jagged.

"Jealous much?" There"s a teasing lilt to her words, but her eyes are searching mine, looking for the truth beneath the bravado.

"Damn right I am," I say, owning it, laying it all out there. "I"ve never wanted anyone the way I want you, Erica."

Her breath hitches, and I know I"ve struck a chord. The air between us crackles with something fierce, something that feels a lot like destiny. And I"d fight wars to keep it, keep her.

I grab Erica"s shoulders, my fingers digging in just a bit too hard. The streetlight casts an amber glow on her face, painting her in shades of gold and shadow. "Look at me, Erica," I demand, my voice barely above a whisper but heavy with emotion.

She tilts her chin up, her green eyes wide and luminous. They"re like twin beacons, pulling me into their depths, drowning me in feelings I"ve been trying to keep caged.

"Lucas doesn"t matter," I begin, my words coming fast. "He"s the past. You and me...we"re right here, right now. And damn it, I"m scared shitless."

"Brandon..." she starts, but I shake my head, cutting her off.

"No, let me finish. I have to say this." I take a deep breath, feeling like I"m at the edge of a cliff, ready to dive into the unknown. "I am so fucking in love with you that it terrifies me. Every time I think about you walking away from me, or him—or anyone—sneaking back into your life, it"s like someone"s squeezing my heart in a vise."

Her lips part, and she leans into me just a fraction, like she"s drawn by the intensity pouring out of me.

"Every mission I"ve been on, every order I"ve followed—it"s all clear-cut, black and white. But this—us—it"s a mess of colors, and yet, I"ve never been more certain about anything. I want you, Erica. All of you. Your laughter, your art, your passion, your fears. I"ll take it all."

"Brandon, I—" She falters, and I can see the conflict playing out across her beautiful features.

"Say it," I urge, desperate for her to understand. "Tell me what you"re thinking."

"I"m scared too," she whispers, her voice trembling. "Your job, your duty...they could take you away from me. How do we build a life around that uncertainty?"

My stomach falls because fuck she's right. This is what I've been afraid of too, isn't it? It's why I haven't allowed myself to claim her the way I want to yet.

Because deep down I know it's selfish. It's selfish of me to take her knowing what could happen with my work.

Her hand comes up to touch my cheek, her touch light as a feather but strong enough to send shock waves through my entire body.

She doesn't speak, and I don't speak. Hell, I can't speak. All I can do is swallow and try not to cry as I watch her walk away.

* * *

I try. In my defense, I try. I really do.

But I can't fucking stay away from her. She's gotten under my skin, and it's not even an hour before I'm charging down the street to her apartment.

I pound on the door like I'm the motherfucking police. It opens, and there she is—Erica, standing in the dimly lit hallway looking like a vision that"s just too good to be true. Her eyes lock with mine, green pools of uncertainty and longing that I"m desperate to dive into.

"What are you doing here?" she breathes out, her voice a melody that hits all the right notes inside me.

"I can't, Erica. I just can't." My words are rough around the edges, a reflection of the storm of emotions churning inside me.

She step back to allow me inside. My body brushes against hers, and the closeness sends a jolt through my body. The door clicks shut, and it"s just us.

She looks down and wrings her hands together, a telltale sign that she"s nervous.

I plow right in. "Erica, I get it, I do. But damn it, I can"t lose you over maybes and what-ifs." My heart pounds against my ribcage, fighting for release.

"Neither can I," she confesses, stepping closer. "But Brandon, what if?—"

"Shh." I close the distance between us in two strides, my hands finding her waist. "No more what-ifs."

She looks up at me, her lips parting slightly, and I can"t hold back any longer. I pull her to me, crashing my lips onto hers with an urgency that leaves no room for doubt. This kiss—it"s a declaration, a battle cry, a promise of everything I am and ever will be.

Her arms wind around my neck, pulling me down into her gravity. Our bodies press close, every curve of her fitting into me like she"s made for this moment, for me. The room is alive with the sound of our breaths mingling, the hum of desire so thick I could reach out and touch it.

"Erica," I groan against her mouth, and she responds with a fervor that lights me up from the inside.

"Brandon," she whispers back, and that"s all it takes to seal the deal—to know that whatever comes next, we"re in it together, come hell or high water.

As we break for air, our foreheads rest against each other, and I swear I can feel the beat of her heart syncing with mine, a silent vow that speaks louder than words ever could.

The world narrows to Erica and me, our footsteps a clumsy dance as we weave toward the bedroom. My fingers trace the outline of her spine, slipping beneath the fabric of her shirt, hungry for the warmth of her skin. She matches my urgency, tugging at the hem of my tee, pulling it over my head with a swift, almost frenzied motion.

"Brandon," she breathes out, her voice laced with need. Her hands roam over my chest, nails grazing lightly, sending shivers down my spine that have nothing to do with the cool air of the room.

"God, Erica," I rasp, fumbling with the button on her jeans, desperate to rid her of any barrier that keeps her from me. Our clothes shed like leaves in fall, discarded without care.

Our bodies collide—a perfect storm of want and will—crashing onto the mattress. Her hair fans out around her on the pillow, a fiery halo that ignites something primal in me. I lower my lips to hers, tasting the sweet promise of forever mixed with the salt of anticipation.

I take a moment to just admire how beautiful her naked body is. My cock is leaking, and I give myself a rough stroke as I stare down at her slack-jawed.

"Fucking beautiful," I breathe out, my voice vibrating with raw lust. Her cheeks blush a deep shade of red at the compliment but she doesn"t turn away, instead boldly meeting my gaze.

My fingers trail down her torso to the wetness pooling between her legs. She shivers as I slip two fingers inside, her hips arching off the bed with a sigh that sounds like heaven.

"Oh god, Brandon," she mumbles, her voice breathy and desperate. Her hands grab onto my arms, nails digging into my skin just enough that it has me gritting my teeth.

"Tell me this is what you want Erica," I demand, needing to hear her confirmation just as much as I need air. The last thing I want is her regretting this in the morning.

"Yes...I want this Brandon...I want you," she gasps out. It"s all the encouragement I need.

My hard cock finds her entrance, and we both moan at the sensation of being so intimately connected. I thrust slowly at first, giving Erica time to adjust to me—holy fuck, is she a virgin? The knowledge that I'm going to be the only man inside of her does something insane to me.

My cock gets even harder, and I can't sit still any longer.

Must move.

Must make her mine.

Mine, mine, mine!

"Fuck...Erica..." I grumble into the crook of her neck, my pace quickening with every stroke.

She wraps her legs around me tighter, pulling me deeper into her until our bodies are flush against each other, leaving no space for anything else.

"I-I"m going to..." she stammers out just as I feel her walls clamp down on me. Her orgasm sends me over the edge.

"Erica," I groan, feeling her tighten around me, her body gripping mine in a vice of passion. I capture her lips again, swallowing her cries as I continue to thrust inside her.

"More," she whispers, her fingers digging into my shoulders. I give her what she asks for, what I need too—the unbridled release, the raw intensity of two souls entwined.

Another climax rips through her, a tidal wave that crashes into me, dragging me under until I"m lost in the depths of her. My own release follows, a surge of heat that brands her name onto every cell of my being.

"Erica," I pant, spent, knowing that this—us—is the realest thing I"ve ever felt.

I pull her close, her body still trembling against mine. We"re a tangle of limbs, a mess of sheets barely clinging to the edge of the bed. Our skin glistens with the evidence of our desire, and every breath we take is heavy with satisfaction.

"Wow," she whispers, her voice filled with wonder and a hint of that cheeky humor I"ve come to adore. Her head rests on my chest, her hair a wild cascade of fire across my skin.

"Understatement of the year," I reply, my own voice hoarse with the aftermath of passion. The softness of her laughter vibrates through me, more soothing than any melody.

We"re quiet for a moment, just breathing together, in and out, as if our lungs have synced up along with our heartbeats. It"s intimate, this silence—more revealing than our naked bodies—and it speaks volumes about where we stand. With each heartbeat, I can feel the walls I"ve built around my heart crumbling, piece by piece.

"Brandon?" Erica lifts her head, those green eyes searching mine.

"Yeah?" My thumb brushes a damp strand of hair from her forehead, lingering on the softness of her skin.

"I'm yours." The words are simple, but they carry the weight of everything we"ve just shared.

I tighten my arms around her and plant a kiss on her forehead. "And I'm yours too, baby. Forever."