So Much More (Made for Love #3) (16 page)

The next band takes the stage and we hit the dance floor again. Sarah’s in my arms for a good hour and I swear I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun. Olivia and I never did shit like this. My awareness of that truth is the only time she pops into my head all night. I’m quick to dismiss the memory of her, too preoccupied with the woman who seems to crave my touch as much as I crave hers.

It’s midnight when Sarah insists that she’s too exhausted to dance anymore. I feel it too, my long day catching up with me. Josh and Aria agree to take Sarah home, not opposed to calling it an early night. We all exchange looks of intrigue when Millie insists she wants to stay and Sage assures us he’ll get her home.

True to my word, I walk Sarah out of the bar to Josh’s truck. After the night we’ve had, I don’t hesitate to pull her into my arms for a goodbye hug. She feels incredible and I don’t want to let her go.

“Thanks for dancing with me,” she murmurs.

“Anytime, Sunshine.”

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asks, pulling away from me just enough to grant me access to those eyes. Even tired and tipsy, they’re just as beautiful as always.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Despite our mutual agreement, neither of us moves. Instead, we just look at each other—each of us wondering,
what next?

Not here. Not now.

I want more than just tonight.

I want to be more than just a rebound.

That means not here. Not now.

I exhale slowly, pressing my forehead against hers as I close my eyes and try desperately
not
to think about how badly I want to taste her lips.

“You’ve gotta go,” I whisper.

“Yeah. I know.”

“Come on, sweet girl,” I say, reaching behind her for the truck’s door handle. “Up you go.” I help her into the back of the cab and make sure she’s buckled in safely. Just as I’m about to shut her in, she reaches for me.

“Wait!”

“What is it?” I ask, taking her outstretched hand in mine.

“Ride safely. Text me when you get home?”

“That’s supposed to be my line,” I tease.

“But you’ll do it?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Okay,” she says, letting me go.

I shut her in, mentally adding
thoughtful
to the list of reasons why I’m drawn to her. I thank Josh for making sure she gets home alright and promise Aria that we’ll hang out again soon before they pull out of the parking lot. As I head for my bike, I replay the night.

It wasn’t at all what I expected. I didn’t expect that the sight of her in that dress would knock me on my ass. I didn’t expect to claim her on that dance floor—or the generous way she would offer herself in return. I didn’t expect to throw away every excuse I’ve been clinging to as to why I should stay away from her. But it’s done. My mind is made up.

I’m going to make her mine and I’m not going to let her go.

I
’M NOT INTERESTED IN
men these days.

I’m totally and completely uninterested.

Unless, of course, your name is Brandon King—in which case I’m
so
interested I can barely think straight.

As I apply the flatiron to my hair, I look straight through my reflection, my mind consumed with memories created last night. If I think hard enough, I can
feel
Brandon in all the ways I felt him on that dance floor—his hard chest pressed against my back; his strong thighs beneath my fingers; his stubbled chin tucked between my neck and shoulder; his big hands splayed across my stomach, pulling me back against him—against the erection he couldn’t hide even if he tried.

He didn’t.
Try
, that is…

I don’t have very much experience with male anatomy, but something tells me what he’s working with is pretty damn impressive.

Just thinking about it has me feeling so hot and bothered that I’m relieved when I can finally cut off my straightener.

Brandon will be here to pick me up in fifteen minutes. After last night, I’m excited to see him. Things have definitely changed between us. I can’t be certain about what that means exactly, but it’s obvious that we want each other.

He told me he’d been trying to keep his hands to himself all week and that he couldn’t do it any longer. I don’t think he could have made it any more clear that his desire mirrors my own.

Well…that’s not exactly true. He could have kissed me.

I wanted him to. God—I wanted him to, so badly. I could have sworn he wanted the same thing. The fact that he didn’t even try is why I’m also just as nervous as I am excited about seeing him. Not that I think he’ll knock on my door and then swoop me in his arms and plant one on me.

But if he did…

I'm startled out of my thoughts when there’s a knock at the bathroom door. Just as I reach for the handle, a man’s voice makes me gasp. I swing the door open and let my jaw drop when I see Sage standing on the other side.

“Hey, Sarah. I’ve really got to piss. Are you almost done in there?”

He’s wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. For a moment, I’m distracted by the artwork that spans across his chest.

“I usually don’t mind an audience, but in this case—”

“Right! Yeah. Um. Yeah—go,” I stutter, slipping by him. I catch a glimpse of his back, which is also covered in an impressive bit of ink, just before the door shuts in my face.

I look down the hallway, to the open room at the end, and spot Millie still fast asleep. She’s laying on her stomach, the sheets gathered around her waist, her back naked and bare—so unlike Sage. I can hardly register what I’m witnessing.

Millie and Sage.

Sage McCoy—who I work with—naked. In my apartment.

Millie Valentine. My roommate. The woman I
cannot
figure out.

I jump when the bathroom door opens. I’m embarrassed to be found still gawking, but I soon dismiss the feeling. Sage is still half sleeping and doesn’t seem the least bit concerned by me.

“Nice dress,” he grumbles before heading back to Millie’s room, shutting the door behind him.

I look down at my outfit choice this morning. A sleeveless white maxi dress, detailed at the bottom with an eyelet flower pattern. The tan belt around my waist matches the flat sandals I’ve chosen. After last night, my feet would kill me if I tried shoving them into anything that even
resembled
a heel.

Remembering that I still have to do something with my face, I shake away all thoughts of Sage and Millie and try my best not to think about Brandon. Thinking of Brandon whilst applying mascara has proven to be a dangerous combo. I manage to draw on a hint of eyeliner, put on my mascara, and coat my lips in gloss with no mishaps. As soon as I slip my feet into my sandals and grab my pale yellow cardigan, there’s a soft knock at the front.

My heart leaps and my stomach tightens knowing it’s Brandon. I throw my purse over my shoulder and waste not a second as I go to answer. I find him looking absolutely incredible. He’s in a pair of fitted tan jeans and a blue button up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the fabric hugging him almost as tight as I was last night.

Suddenly, my body aches with a longing that surprises me.

I’m not sure if he can see it written on my face, or if his body is sending him the same message, but before he even speaks, he pulls me into his arms, forcing me onto my tiptoes.

“Sarah, do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?”

“Do
you
?” I reply airily. “I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea I come to church with you,” I quip. “I’ll never be able to concentrate with you siting next to me.”

“Right back at you, Sunshine,” he chuckles.

I’m not exactly sure when my adopted nickname stuck, but I adore it. Mostly because it’s
Brandon’s
name for me; one that he uses frequently.

“We have to go anyway. I played hooky last week and Aunt Row won’t take too kindly to me standing her up two weeks straight. Besides, I'm sure you could use some prayer over that
porn
addiction.”

“Hey!” I cry, pulling away from him and playfully smacking him against his chest—
which definitely hurts me more than it hurts him. Damn!
“We already discussed this. They’re
love stories
. Besides, you shouldn’t joke about porn addictions,” I chastise, closing and locking the door before heading for the stairwell that will take us to the exit. “People really do struggle with that. It ruins relationships—
lives,
even.”

“Come on, sweet girl,” he murmurs, catching up to me as he laces his fingers with mine. “You know I don’t mean it.”

Sweet girl. I like that, too.

“Who’s Aunt Row?” I ask, quickly changing the subject.

“My mom’s younger sister. She’s great. Everybody likes her.”

“You sound close.”

“Yeah,” he answers, holding the building door open for me. He doesn’t let go of my hand as I pass through. “A few years after my dad died, she moved back to Colorado. She’s, like, the only family I’ve got, really.”

I stop short, trying to remember if he’d ever mentioned that his dad had passed. After racking my brain for a second, all I can think of are the couple comments he’s shared about how his dad was the reason he started baking in the first place. “I didn’t know—about your dad. I’m sorry,” I say, looking up at him.

“Thanks. It’s been a long time now. He died when I was fourteen."

I think about my dad. I can’t imagine losing him. Even now, while we’re at odds, I know he’d drop everything if I needed him. If I didn’t have that—if I didn’t have him—

“Hey,” Brandon speaks softly, interrupting my thoughts as he lifts my chin. “It sucks, but I’m okay. I’m happy. I do what I do because he inspires me. He always has. I carry that with me and life goes on.”

I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly, offering him a nod. His hard work, everything that he’s accomplished, it suddenly weighs so much more. He took his loss and used it to fuel his passion and his dreams. I admire that about him. I can’t even begin to think of the amount of strength something like that requires. I wish I could boast of that kind of character. My shit still torments me.

“What are you thinking?”

“I wish I was as strong as you.”

He furrows his brow thoughtfully before shaking his head at me. “Trust me. I’ve fucked up plenty. C’mon, we’ll be late.”

He tugs on my hand and we continue walking. I wonder about what he said; I wonder about his screw-ups; I wonder if they’re comparable to mine. I’m so preoccupied by our previously discarded conversation that I don’t notice the car he’s taking me to until he’s got the passenger side door open for me. I look at the bright red, vintage Camaro and my jaw falls open.

“This?
This
is your car?”

“Yeah,” he replies with a smirk that can’t decide if it’s cocky or cute.

Right. Because he needed just
one more thing
to make him even more hot.

“It was my dad’s. Well, it was ours. We worked on it together.”

“Your dad sounds like he was a great guy,” I say, climbing into my seat.

“He was.” He closes me in and then hurries his way to the driver’s side. “It’s so weird, that car over there? It looks just like Sage’s,” he tells me as he begins to pull out of the parking spot.

“Ohmygod—I didn’t tell you! Sage? Boxers, not briefs.”

“Excuse me?”

“Also, did you know that he’s got more tattoos? I mean, I guess that’s probably not a surprise, considering his sleeve, but he’s got a
lot
more. I’ve seen them.”

“Whoa—stop! Are you telling me you’ve seen Sage naked?!”

I grin, amused at his disgruntled state. “Yup. He kept his promise. He got Millie home.”

He blows out a
humph,
keeping his eyes on the road. “If he plans on making a repeat visit, I’m going to have to talk to him about wearing pants.
And
a shirt.”

I giggle and he reaches for my hand. I’m happy to let him have it.

For the duration of our car ride, he tells me about his church. He and his Aunt Row have been attending Crossroads Community for the past seven years. Brandon tells me that Row is the reason he started going to church in the first place, having not grown up with parents who thought a lot about God. The more he tells me about Row, the more interested I am in meeting her.