like he’d been unfaithful to me.
“Nothing. You interrupted nothing.”
“You’re wearing lipstick.”
His cheeks pinked a little, but he offered no explanation.
I certainly wasn’t about to demand one, even though inside I was screaming. How could you? How could you?
None of my business. None of my damned business.
Except that it was. It was because I cared about this man, wanted this man.
Still none of your business, Marj.
I pulled farther away from Bryce so that his arm was no longer around me.
“Marj…”
“It’s okay.” I gulped. “No big deal. You must have been reaching for lip balm and mistakenly picked up your mom’s lipstick. Happens all the time.” I tried to sound serious, but my voice came out pretty curt.
“It’s not my mom’s lipstick.”
Damn! He couldn’t even let me think for a minute that he hadn’t been making out with another woman?
“She meant nothing to me, and I—”
I shook my head, stopping him with a gesture. “Really. I don’t want to know.”
“Nothing happened.”
I yearned to interrogate him, but I stopped myself. None of my business. None of my business.
I dropped my mouth open, feigning surprise. “Really? A kiss obviously happened. That might mean nothing to you, but it doesn’t mean nothing to me.”
“It didn’t mean anything with her. For God’s sake, I left as soon as you called me.”
“I interrupted you?” I held back a huff. “Sorry to cramp your style.”
“You didn’t cramp anything.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Shit. This is coming out all wrong. I’m all wrong.”
“I grew up with three brothers, Bryce. I’m well aware of how men are. You don’t stop at a kiss.”
“What?” He shook his head, his forehead wrinkled. “Your brothers are gentlemen, and so am I. We’d never force—”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Sure as hell sounded like it.”
I’d stepped in it this time, especially considering the type of man Bryce’s father had turned out to be. He had forced men, women, and children, including my own brother. Open mouth, insert foot. I was being a spoiled brat. Spoiled little ranch heiress. I felt like a piece of shit.
Repeat this to yourself, Marjorie. You have no hold on Bryce Simpson. You have no hold on Bryce Simpson. He’s allowed to kiss whomever he wants. He’s allowed to do any…
I couldn’t finish, not even in my head.
Bryce stood. “I need to go.”
Shit. Not at all what I wanted. I inched toward him. “Please, don’t. I don’t want to be alone in this big house tonight.”
“The boys are here.”
“You know what I mean. They’re asleep, and if I’m alone with my thoughts…”
“You’ll worry about Jade. Tal says everything looks good.”
“But what if—”
“Marj, don’t do this to yourself.” He shuddered slightly.
Only slightly, but I noticed. If he hadn’t been with another woman five minutes ago, I’d think he wanted to reach out to me. Hold me like he had been.
“Can’t you stay? We have”—I cleared my throat—“plenty of room, as you well know.”
“I should get home. Henry.”
“He’s with your mom. Plus…”
“Plus what?”
What the hell? We were both thinking it. “Plus…weren’t you planning to spend the night with lipstick woman, anyway? You’d have been out all—”
He pulled me to him, smashing our chests together. “You want to know what lipstick woman was?” He grabbed my hair in his fist and yanked it back, forcing me to meet his gaze. “She was a substitute. A piss-poor substitute at that. A substitute for what I really wanted.”
My heart thundered inside me, the beat radiating out to my fingertips. “Wh-What do you want?”
“You fucking know what I want, baby.”
I closed my eyes, waiting for his kiss.
A kiss that didn’t come.
I opened my eyes.
His own were full of torment.
I couldn’t help myself. I cupped his cheek, letting his sandy stubble scratch my fingertips.
“Damn it, Marjorie,” he said gruffly.
“Take it, then. Take what you want, Bryce.”
Chapter Twelve
Bryce
Take it, then. Take what you want, Bryce.
If I were stronger, her sweet coconut scent wouldn’t entice me.
If I were stronger, her trembling pink lips wouldn’t set my loins on fire.
If I were stronger, those sweet nipples protruding through her tight T-shirt wouldn’t be my undoing.
If I were stronger, I’d do the right thing.
If I were stronger.
If…
I stroked her rosy cheeks, her skin like silk beneath my rough fingertips, and I pulled her face to mine, our lips meeting.
She opened, her smooth tongue melting against my own. She tasted of a hint of lusty red wine, a touch of mint, a sweet sensation that had my senses spinning.
I was going to hell for this. Surely I was going to