“Aaand the grouchy Brandon King makes a stunning comeback!” I shake my head. “You just never disappoint, do you?”
“Well, maybe you should stop giving me all these nicknames.”
“Which one is your favorite?” I step closer until I can inhale the whiskey from his mouth. But alcohol isn’t the only thing I smell. I’m smothered by the musk emanating from his flushed fair skin and the notes of clover and citrus in his damn hair. Fuck, his hair smells so good.
Am I sure I’m not the drunk one?
Apparently, I don’t give a fuck about my resolve, because I whisper, “Do you prefer lotus flower? My dude? Oh, Prince Charming?”
“None,” he says slowly, his eyes light and hooded as he stares up at me.
“Oh, right.” I stand toe-to-toe with him and line my lips with the shell of his ear. “You like being called baby.”
He trembles against me. Fucking trembles. Or maybe it’s the alcohol and he’s swaying, but I couldn’t care less. I choose to believe it’s because I’ve destabilized him.
I choose to think he’s not immune to my presence and I’m getting under his skin as deep as he’s penetrated mine.
He better be or I swear to fuck I’ll personally amputate Kolya for the inhumane abstinence he’s been forcing on me for a whole damn month.
I tighten my chest muscles for the punch or shove I know is coming and wait.
Then wait some more.
But it doesn’t happen.
I step back to find Brandon pulling at the hairs at his nape. Otherwise, he’s completely still. Like a robot. Eyes staring at his feet.
Not blinking.
Not moving.
Okay, I’ve seen my fair share of fucked up, but this vacant look in his eyes is fucking disturbing.
What the fuck did I do now…？
Bran shakes his head and backs away, rocking on his feet, and I’m not sure if it’s because he’s drunk on the alcohol or something else. His hand flops to his side as he swallows. “I…better go.”
“Sure thing, Prince Charming. Go back to your favorite hobby of running away. If you do that fast enough, you might reach your second favorite hobby—denial—in record time.”
His eyes shoot to mine. “Seriously, what the hell is your problem?”
“What’s your problem?” I invade his space again, my chest grazing his, and we both inhale at the same time. “Why the fuck do you act as if me calling you baby is the end of the world?”
“Because you’re not supposed to,” he whispers, his eyes blinking slowly, but he doesn’t stop running them over my face.
“You need to stop looking at me like that if you don’t want me to fucking devour you.”
He shakes his head once, but, surprisingly, no words come out of his antagonizing mouth.
But here’s the thing.
Brandon doesn’t look away and, instead, keeps staring, eyes hooded and lips slightly parted.
Fuck this asshole. He’s the most infuriating man I’ve ever gotten to know, but he’s still the only one who’s started a fire at the pit of my stomach, the flames so wild, they spread to my chest and fan my dick back to life.
I’m so hard, it’s fucking painful at this point, and I have to do something.
I’m back to that hopeless stage of wanting a taste.
A nip.
A lick.
Anything.
I’ll take anything he allows me to have. Even if small, I’ll fucking gobble it all down and store it in that nook inside me that’s disturbingly filled with him.
My hand bunches in his shirt and I growl as I tug and slam him against my chest.
I can feel that loud thump of his heartbeat as his eyes widen, panic glittering in their depths like wildfire, similar to mine.
But there’s something else a lot more potent.
Now that his control has wavered, I sense an avalanche of impulsiveness rushing to the surface.
And I just have to seize it. Trap it. Leave him no fucking way out.
Just once.
“D-don’t,” he stammers, both his hands landing on my chest as he searches our surroundings, which are full of drunk people, before he focuses on me again, his eyes a myriad of confusion. “Please.”
“Too late, baby.”
Using my hold on his shirt, I drag him into a tight alley and shove him against a grimy brick wall.
He releases the most delicious startled sound I’ve ever heard and I’m done for.
Finished.
Absolutely jumping off a cliff, rolling and cracking a few bones and not giving a flying fuck, because I have my prize at the bottom.