Those lips. Those wonderful firm and manly lips.
I’d been kissed many times, but Bryce Simpson was in a league of his own.
I hadn’t expected him to still be here once I’d tucked Donny back into bed and read to him. I was certain he’d take the opportunity to run like hell, as he had the previous night.
But he’d stayed this time. And he was kissing me.
Our lips slid together, our tongues twirled, and my knees buckled. Not to worry. Bryce’s strong arms kept me steady as we explored each other’s mouths with ferocious desire.
This was more than a kiss.
So much more.
I wanted to hold on to him forever, kiss him forever. Kiss him until lipstick woman was no longer a memory.
Too soon, he broke the kiss.
I arched my brow and met his gaze.
“What if Donny wakes up again?”
“Then I’ll comfort him again. He already sort of saw us kissing. He knows you. What’s the big deal?”
“It’s just—”
“You’re looking for an excuse again.”
“No. Yes. Hell, I don’t know.” He stepped back awkwardly. “I came over here because you called me. You were upset. I didn’t think—”
“Didn’t think we’d end up making out in the kitchen?”
I laughed a little. “Making out” sounded so juvenile. Like making out in the car as teenagers. I wanted to do a lot more than just make out with Bryce.
“Actually, I figured we’d end up exactly where we are,” he said. “Which is why I shouldn’t have come at all.”
“But you did.”
“Because you were upset, Marj. I didn’t come here to take advantage of you.”
“Who’s taking advantage? I’m giving you the advantage.”
“You’re Joe’s little sister.”
“Yeah, I know.” I rolled my eyes. “And you remember pink and yellow unicorns on my wall. I’ve heard it all before, Bryce. It’s beginning to sound like a broken record.”
“You’re not understanding me. It’s more than just you being Joe’s little sister. Right now I’m just…so messed up in my head.”
“Don’t you think I understand better than anyone else? I’ve been through the same hell you have.”
“Your father might’ve made some mistakes in this lifetime, but he never committed the heinous crimes my father did.”
I wanted to say something, but words eluded me. We both knew what horrible atrocities Bryce’s father had committed not only against my brother but also against countless others.
Finally, I said, “You are not your father, Bryce.”
“I know that. I really do know that.”
“You don’t sound too convinced of it, though.”