Free Deadly Obsession by Jaycee Clark Page B

noticed it had grown since the last time he’d held her so. He grazed the curve of her ear with his thumb, felt her pulse bounce in her neck.
    He lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips, her skin was as soft as he remembered. Slowly, he traced her mouth with his tongue, daring her to kiss him back, hoping she would. On a trembling sigh, she opened her mouth. Brayden pulled her close, held her tight as he deepened the kiss. She tasted just as sweet as he remembered like a dark forbidden fruit. The kiss lengthened, deepened and she twined her arms around his neck. Her curves pressed against him, and images from a night spent in her arms flashed unbidden in his mind. He knew the paleness of her breasts, the way her skin dipped near her hipbone, the mole on the right buttock cheek. The way she kissed, tasted, smelled. All the memories slammed into him and Brayden wondered absently what the hell he’d been thinking to turn her away before.
    Just as he tilted his head, her hands came up and pushed against his shoulders. She broke the kiss. "We can’t do this." Her eyes looked at his mouth.
    "Why?" He held her in the loose circle of his arms. She fit perfectly. She took a deep breath and he rested his forehead against hers.
    "There’s just-there’s just... There’s too much going on right now." Her whispered words warmed against his mouth.
    "Like what?"
    The silence between them stretched. Why wouldn’t she open up?
    "Talk. To. Me. We’ve always talked about everything."
    And they damn well would again. Then, another thought occurred to him. She’d broken the kiss. She’d pulled away, pushed him away.
    Brayden straightened and stepped back, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Is there something between you and Morris?" His breath huffed out. Not that he had anyone to blame but himself if there were. The thought tightened his gut.
    She shook her head. "No. Gabe’s just a friend."
    A friend? A friend that came over in the middle of the night? So if that wasn’t it, then what? She wouldn’t meet his eyes, always darting away. Nervous and scared.
    "I don’t know what is going on with you, but I wish to hell you’d tell me. And it’s not just me that’s noticed. Is it this wacko calling? Who the hell is he? Do you know him? What damn gift did he leave you?" Brayden paced away from her and turned back.
    Christian bent down and picked up the pieces of the phone.
    "If that’s the only damn phone you have, I’ll get you two more." Then she could answer it in whatever part of the condo she was in.
    "No, there’s one upstairs, but I keep the ringer turned off."

    He grunted. "Mom and Dad want to know what the deal is with you. They all blame me for it, and they’re right. Tori wants to know when you’re coming home and Jesslyn and Taylor treat me like Iago or something and--"
    "This has nothing to do with you." Her words jerked him back. He stared at her across her kitchen.
    Why? Why couldn’t he get past her walls? Get even a glimpse inside her fortress? Her words hurt more than he would have thought. Not have anything to do with him?
    "Do you still mean the words you said to me?" he asked, though he hadn’t meant to.
    "What words?" She dumped the shattered plastic and wires of the broken phone in the trash.
    "That night. The next morning." I love you. Had she meant it?
    She paused, and though her back was to him, she stiffened. "I’m not answering that. I’m not talking about that."
    Brayden cursed, his worry turning to a simmering anger. "You’re not talking much about anything these days are you?"
    When she turned to face him, his breath caught. Her eyes were haunted pools of pain.
    "Talk to me," he said yet again, slapping his hand on the counter. "Tell me what the hell is going on with you. I can’t stand to see you this way."
    She shook her head, but her eyes filled and tears fell over her cheeks.
    Brayden couldn’t handle her crying. He walked to her and pulled her to him.
    "Ah, Chris, don’t. Don’t. Come on,