With my high heels pinching my feet, I headed for the exit, needing a moment to myself. The dance floor raged behind me, but my destination was one of quiet solitude. Emmy’s mom stopped me in my path.
“Darling, I think we’re low on champagne. There’s more in the storage closet down the hall. Would you mind?”
“Not at all.” It’d give me a reason to escape for a few minutes. Be alone and catch my breath.
“I’ll escort her.” Braydon appeared beside me out of nowhere. I’d noticed him throughout the night, quietly sipping his beer and keeping me in his sights but maintaining his distance.
His tone and the intense look in his eyes left little room for argument, so I merely nodded and turned for the exit. Making my way through the crowded ballroom, I felt Braydon’s hand ghosting along the small of my back as he guided me. Little flutters of heat raced along my spine, pooling low in my belly. I turned down the deserted hallway, thankful for a moment of silence. Today had been exhausting. Not to mention, it wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to be surrounded by two people who were so in love when my own love life was in the crapper.
We reached the storage room at the end of a long hallway only to find it locked.
“Dammit,” I muttered, wrenching on the door handle.
“It’s fine. We’ll just find one of the catering staff and ask them to bring up more champagne.” His hand closed around my elbow and an electric current zapped through me. It was as though his body knew mine and was calling to me. What the hell was that?
“Hey,” Braydon said, lifting my chin to his. “Is everything okay?”
“Fine. Why?” I lied.
He lifted one shoulder. “You don’t seem like yourself. Tonight, after that speech . . . I don’t know. I wondered where my little firecracker had gone. . . .” His hand lifted to my upper arm and glided along my skin in slow, measured strokes.
He was incredibly perceptive. Too much so. But I couldn’t have him getting to me. My maid of honor speech had been cut short when a lump of emotion had lodged in my throat, and I’d nearly broken down in front of everyone. I’d said a quick congratulations and ended it. Emmy and Ben seemed none the wiser, happily kissing and clinking their champagne glasses. I found it interesting that Braydon, of all people, had been perceptive enough to pick up on the change in me.
I sucked in a fortifying breath. I couldn’t let him see how weak and alone I felt. “She’s still here and will happily kick you in the balls if you decide to get too handsy.” I glared at the hand he’d left resting on my bare shoulder.
He quickly withdrew the offending hand. “Glad you’re back.”
I swallowed down a wave of nerves, my heartbeat quickening as I realized we were all alone.
“You look stunning tonight. I should have told you earlier,” he said.
My eyes lifted to his and I parted my lips to speak, to give him one of the sassy quips I was known for, but nothing came out.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he said, his palm cupping my cheek. “You don’t have to be tough all the time, you know?”
I nodded slowly.
“I know you can take care of yourself, but who takes care of you, Ellie?”
He rarely, if ever, called me by my actual name, and the familiarity of it passing over his lips caused a little ripple of desire to dance in my belly. “No one,” I admitted. “Men suck.”
“I can’t argue with that. Most men are assholes who behave like spoiled children.”
I nodded slowly, glad we were on the same page. I thought he’d try to convince me otherwise, or at least tell me that he wasn’t one of them. But he just stayed quiet, watching me with those gorgeous blue eyes of his, making my skin hum with nervous anticipation. What were we doing?
“I could take care of you tonight, make you feel good, if you let me,” he whispered, his mouth just a few inches from mine.
My heart rioted in my chest. He was so good-looking, so sexy. I knew it’d be incredible. But the word tonight stood out to me. I was done with men who wanted one night with me. I supposed a string of failed dates and one-night stands would do that to you. I was looking for something more, a deeper, intimate connection; a real relationship. Not a one-night stand, not a guy who wanted nothing to do with me in the morning. Braydon had a way with words, I’d give him that. That didn’t mean anything was going to happen, though.
“A few sexy words and you expect me to just hand over my panties?” I quipped.
“No. I’d prefer to peel those off you myself. Slowly. Savoring every delicious inch of skin I exposed.”