Twenty-eight ~ Attraction

I followed Brent up the wooden steps that led to his front door until he paused and turned to me.

"Um," he said, wringing his hands together and scuffing a toe back and forth over the porch slats. "It's not exactly... Well, it's not like your place."

Clearly nervous or embarrassed, an emotion rarely ever visible on his face, I did my best to reassure him and lighten the mood.

"You wouldn't have had a right to judge me two months ago if it was."

Forcing a smile, Brent shoved the key into the lock and pushed the door open. Rather than stepping inside, he moved away from the entrance and gestured for me to walk through first.

I took a couple of steps towards the centre of the room, my eyes scanning it. Just like a studio flat, the house opened up into one main area, with the bed against the far wall, a small kitchen tucked away in the corner, and a door hanging off its hinges which I assumed belonged to the bathroom.

Although simple—probably containing the minimum number of possessions needed to make it habitable—there was something tranquil about it. Something different. Maybe it's true that the grass is always greener on the other side, but who needs avocado slicers, anyway?

My footsteps echoed on the wooden floor as I wandered towards his bed. Three photos sat on the table to its right. From the picture in his hut, I recognised the smaller boy. His brother. In this shot, he stood beside a much younger Brent, their arms around each other as they smiled into the camera.

I'd noticed Brent's aversion to smiling, or showing emotion in general, but seeing how happy he looked all those years ago tugged at my heartstrings. The two adults present in the other pictures were likely his parents, both dark-haired and tanned. Apart from the familial resemblance, these photos had something else in common: they were all taken on the beach.

When I turned to ask Brent how long he'd lived here, he still lingered in the open doorway, one hand running over his jaw, the other clenched by his side.

"What's wrong?" I asked, taking a few steps away from the photographs in case my overt curiosity made him uncomfortable.

"I'll understand if you want to leave."

My eyes swept over his body, assessing his tense posture. His problem wasn't with the photos or my nosiness, then. He'd kept the door open in case I didn't want to be here. Even with all the progress we'd made, a part of him still worried I'd judge.

"Brent, shut the door. I don't want to leave."

After pausing for a few seconds, he turned and tugged the door shut. It clicked, generating another echo that bounced off the walls.

I reached for his hand, threading my fingers through his and squeezing. "Thanks for inviting me back."

"No need to be polite. We both know why I invited you back."

Shrugging, I pulled my hand free, running my fingers over his wrist, along his forearm and then around the straining muscles of his bicep.

"It's easy to get caught up in the moment," I said. "But having someone in your home, a place private to you... That's different."

I extended my arms over his shoulders, looping my hands around the back of his neck. With caution that suggested he still felt insecure about it, Brent settled his own hands on my hips.

"I love your home," I said, hoping that being explicit would ease any remaining doubts. "Please trust me."

His chest inflated before he released a long sigh, his eyes landing on the photographs. Sensing the shift in the mood, I lowered my arms from his shoulders and wandered across the room to give him some space.

The floorboards creaked behind me, the only indication that Brent had moved before his arm wound around my stomach and pulled me back against him. With gentle leisure, his free hand swept my hair away and his lips grazed the exposed skin of my neck. I shuddered, leaning back against his chest and closing my eyes.

"I've imagined you being here so many times..." His voice was low as his lips skimmed along the curve of shoulder. "It never turned out like this."

"Mm?" I tilted my head sideways to extend my neck, silently willing him not to stop.

"Mm."

Teeth grasping the thin strap of my top, he dragged it over my shoulder. Such a simple action felt so erotic that I groaned, grinding against him.

"How did it turn out?" The words tumbled from my mouth in a breathless gasp, my ability to speak deteriorating with every kiss that Brent planted on my skin.

"Either you hated my place and left. Or you stayed, but only until you'd got what you wanted."

Brent's imaginary me should have been offensive, but his original opinion was no secret. And, anyway, I was far too turned on to dwell on the past.

"And what did I want?"

With my eyes shut and body pulsing with desire, the confidence came easily. I closed my fingers around the hand that rested on my stomach, edging it down to the waistband of my shorts and then back up under my top, desperate to feel more of his skin on mine. 

Brent's mouth paused below my ear, his fingers spanning my abdomen and igniting goose bumps that spread like wildfire through my body. Light on my skin, he trailed his hand upwards, and I groaned in frustration as he stopped just before he reached my bra.

My breath caught as he then spun me around without warning, pressing me against the wall, his arms trapping mine by my sides. I squirmed under his grasp, desperate for him to touch me again. To kiss me. To have his mouth anywhere and everywhere.

"If I tell you what you wanted..." His eyes swam with desire as he swallowed. "Then this is going to escalate very quickly."

"Is that... a bad thing?" I raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out his headspace.

"Depends how you look at it. I don't do the one-night stand thing anymore."

I choked out a laugh. "I've never done the one-night stand thing. It doesn't bother me how many people you've slept with, though. Unless it's like triple digits. Or high doubles—"

"Rosalie." An amused smile, in complete contrast to any other emotion he'd shown since we got here, played at his lips. "That's not what I meant."

"Oh."

"I know we joked about this not being a date, but if we sleep together... It'll make things more complicated. Casual or not."

All or nothing. Like he'd said earlier. Like Mia had told me previously. As much as I wanted Brent to trust me, I had to accept that it would take longer. And as much as I hated thinking about leaving, I had to accept that a conversation about long-distance would be too much too soon. We were new. Still casual. Testing the waters. But we weren't strangers.

"Make you a deal?" I offered with a teasing smile. "A compromise?"

Brent's eyes darkened again, that dangerously sexy expression weakening my body. I could have sworn he leaned ever so slightly closer to pin me harder against the wall.

"Go on..."

Swallowing, I forced myself not to look away. "You tell me one of the things we did in your imagination, just to stroke my ego, and I will take a step back so this doesn't become more complicated."

"A step back, literally or metaphorically?"

I jerked my chin downwards to gesture to where he was pinning my arms to my sides. "You're not exactly giving me space to move at the moment."

In response to that, Brent closed any remaining distance between us, his hips nailing me flush against the wall as his mouth traced my cheek.

"That's because this is what happens in my imagination, Rosalie. You and me, against this wall... Sometimes you're facing me, moaning down my ear. Other times, you're bent over in front of me, clutching onto the wall for balance..."

I tried to reply, but only air escaped. Brent groaned, dragging his lips along my jaw. Asking for an example had been a bad idea. I hadn't expected him to actually do it. But when had Brent ever let me win at anything?

When his mouth brushed against mine, I slanted my lips over his. The kiss started off slow, almost hesitant, like we weren't sure if it was a good idea or not. I eased my tongue into his mouth, tasting remnants of beer, and like I'd flicked a switch, slow and hesitant gave way to hungry and passionate.

His arms released me in order for his fingers to explore the backs of my thighs. With my hands free, they darted to his shirt buttons, fumbling to undo them as fast as I could.

"No sex, remember," Brent mumbled against my mouth.

"No sex," I said, already easing the shirt over his shoulders.

Before the shirt had even hit the floor, he'd lifted me up and dropped me onto the soft mattress, immediately crawling on top as his lips found mine again. The heat turned up a notch, transforming me into some kind of desperate, sex-starved animal, acting purely on instinctive cravings.

Brent's body might have already been resting on top of mine, his naked chest a dominating force above me, but I needed more. The thin material of his chinos hid nothing of his own desire, telling me exactly what Brent wanted in that moment, even if I struggled to read him at other times.

When his lips settled on my neck again, I couldn't help the betraying whimper that emerged from within me. It was divine, sending me delirious.

Unable to fight the arousal anymore, I raised my hips, giving attention to the part of my body begging for it, and pressed them hard against his own. Brent let out a sound that was a mixture of a groan and a gasp, nuzzling his face further into my neck, teeth grazing my skin. I lowered my hips, desperately trying to regain control and sanity, but instantly losing it as soon as Brent rocked his hips into me, the headboard crashing against the wall with a thud.

A moan escaped as I wrapped my legs around his back in encouragement, and one of his hands skimmed along my outer thigh. It slid under the hem of my shorts and rested on my hip, his fingers toying with the lace of my underwear. Like I'd been doing at the bar, Brent was edging as close to that invisible line as possible, without crossing it.

As if both thinking the same thing, the kiss slowed down, our lips and tongues working in perfect sync, until it came to a gradual halt. When Brent lifted his head from mine to look at me, I noticed sweat glistening against his skin and the heavy breaths leaving his mouth—the proof that he'd wanted it just as much as me. 

But I could also see the reluctance in his eyes, blended with frustration.

He withdrew his hand from my shorts, letting his fingers trickle over my body one last time before rolling off me.

"I think we got a bit carried away," he said.

"On the plus side, we didn't have sex." I forced a laugh, and Brent chuckled along with me.

I wanted nothing more than to be underneath the weight of his body again, his hands all over my skin and his mouth devouring me. But he was trying to avoid that, and I knew how selfish it would be to go against his wishes by taking advantage of his hormones.

"Wanna watch a movie to take our minds off it?"

It was a genuine offer, and I accepted. Despite the film acting as a distraction, I was still very aware of Brent's presence beside me. Nothing else happened, though, true to our words. It wasn't until the drowsy effects of the wine took over me that I realised I'd be staying much longer than expected.

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Thank you for reading :) xx

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