For Brisban and Dawn, and their tragedy, Brisban was trying to fix it in his way while Dawn was on an entirely different path in her grieving process. They weren’t able to jointly work on their pain and ultimately that’s why it couldn’t work. Allowing another man into my life on more than a physical level is daunting and scares me half to death after my divorce but I also know how he makes me feel and being alone isn’t something I want. I don’t know if I’m in love with Brisban. What I do know is when we’re together I feel more alive, like my authentic self. When I realized I wanted more from him than just sex I knew things had shifted, even though I don’t know what the more is I want.
I pour the coffee into two cups and mull over all of the continuous thoughts running through my mind. Suddenly two large hands blanket my shoulders. I startle.
He presses his lips gently to curve of my neck. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. What are you doing over here so deep in thought that you didn’t even hear me come into the room?”
Turning around with my back now to the counter I take in the sight of him. Of course he’s not dressed—that would make talking easy. My eyes scan his tall masculine body. A solid white towel is secured around his waist at the lowest point possible, a scattered trail of hair disappearing just beneath it. The pronounced V of his physique is on grand display and every word I planned on saying is apparently busy looking too because they aren’t coming out of my mouth at the moment. Tiny rivulets of water drops are moving down his chest. His hair is disheveled and wet. He has a little more scruff than usual and in this very moment Brisban Calloway is truly a vision to behold. All of this hotness is in my kitchen and it’s all mine to have if I want it. When and how did this become my life?
“Candace?” He lowers his head some and eyes me. “Are you not talking this morning? Are you one of those that need their coffee first?”
I reach out with my forefinger and place it in the center of his chest. “You are bad and you know exactly what you were doing coming out here like this.” I drag my finger slowly down to the top of where the towel is resting and cut my eyes back up to his, grinning.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he teases.
“Uh huh, sure you don’t. I know what’s under this towel and you standing here in my kitchen looking like you do right now has everything to do with me being speechless. Coffee isn’t even a second thought at the moment.”
He steps in closer to me. “Is that so?” He takes my face between his hands. Our bodies are pressed together now and instantly I feel his hardened cock against my stomach. “How about a good morning kiss before morning coffee?”
I smile and lean in toward his lips with mine. “I take that as a yes,” he whispers just before our mouths collide in the softest, most sensuous dance I’ve ever felt in a kiss before—almost as if we are breathing new life into one another. We kiss deeply and longingly. His hands move back, entangling in my hair and I wrap my arms around him as tight as I can. With every moan, lick, and tug of our lips we give to the other in a selfless ebb and flow of unspoken promises. Maybe this is what a Brisban love feels like. Falling for him feels like the giving and receiving of a gift all in one.
As soon as our lips part I want them back together. I want more of him in every way I can get. It’s never enough yet always enough. He rests his forehead against mine. “Thank you, Candace.”
Confused, I lean away. “For what? I didn’t do anything.”
He smiles softly. “You silly, wonderful woman.” He shakes his head a little. “You’ve done everything. Yesterday was the second hardest day of my life and, because of you, I’m not a crumbled, broken man today. Because of you I’ve lived my days since we met with a sense of purpose. The black hole I’d fallen into was deep. You provided me with a rope and day by day I’ve climbed out of a place I never want to be again. Don’t you get it?” He pauses and I try to maintain my composure. “You’ve given me hope again. A person without hope is perpetually lost. Hope is a gift and it fires the desires for more in life. You’ve done that for me and there will never be enough words for me to tell you how grateful I am to have found you.”
There’s so much I want to say to him but the overwhelming urge to hug him and cry takes over. I lunge at him and wrap my arms tightly around his neck. Burying my face in his bare warm chest, I begin to sob.
He caresses my back. “Why are you crying? Please don’t cry.”
I shake my head. “They’re happy tears.” I sniffle and let out a laugh. “I’m sorry. It’s just so many feelings overlapping. I don’t know whether I want to laugh, cry, or rip this damn towel off you.”