Chapter 9: Monday Isn't Here Yet

Brice took my fingers off his mouth and held them in his fist.

"Monday," he said. "That's what you told me about your mother."

"Yes."

"It's also what I told you about us. Which one are we keeping?"

"You made that rule for me. I'm breaking it."

"You're breaking it on the worst week of your life."

"I'm breaking it on the first night in a week that I know exactly what I want."

He closed his eyes.

"Say it, then," he said.

I pulled his shirt up over his head and dropped it on the floor.

The ink ran everywhere.

It covered his chest and both shoulders, down his ribs, over a long white scar below his heart that made me stop.

"What is that?"

"Your father's last year. A man with a knife."

"You never told me."

"It wasn't your job to worry about it."

I laid my mouth over the scar. He sucked in a breath and his hand went to the back of my head.

"Bed," I said.

"Brynn."

"I want you in the bed, Kincade. Now."

He picked me up off the counter.

I locked my legs around him, and he carried me past the sliding screen.

He laid me on the sheets and stood over me, breathing hard.

I sat up and unzipped the green dress myself.

It fell to my waist, and I watched his eyes go black.

"Look at you," he said. It came out rough. "God. You don't know what you look like."

"Tell me."

"Like something I'm not allowed to have."

"You're allowed."

I reached for his belt.

He let me open it.

He let me push his jeans down over his hips.

When I wrapped my hand around his cock, hot and heavy and already hard for me, he let his head drop back and swore.

"Easy," he said, hoarse.

"No."

I stroked him slowly from the base to the tip and watched his stomach clench.

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