Just Want Somebody to Love (Bella Warren Book 1) (6 page)

The bed shifted and he didn’t have a choice. He had to look. He glanced over his shoulder as she rolled close. Her hair was wild. There wasn’t a strand of it that looked in a place it should be. Something that was all his fault. He’d gotten his hands in her hair, and he hadn’t wanted to get them back out. The times he’d let the strands go were to get his hands on her body. He itched to do that again.

Her eyes were tired, but her lips tipped in that way that kept dragging him back to this bed every time he started to leave. Not this time, though.

Three AM. So much for celebrating with Brandon tonight. They’d have that talk in the morning. Knowing he had that coming was the only reason he pushed off the bed. Biggest day of their lives, and he didn’t want his brother to look back and remember Justin giving the news half-asleep.

The muscles in his legs pulled as he stood. Holy hell, was he going to be sore from sex? He rubbed over his face again. Not possible. He caught sight of her, and the images of the night flashed through his mind. Holding her, bending her over. The cramps he’d caught but ignored, then forgot about.

Okay. Maybe sore was possible. Worth it. “I have to go.”

“I know. You’ve been saying that for about two hours.”

He managed to get his jeans pulled up even though the sheet she wore served her on a silver platter. The rest of her—hell, all of her—tempted him to take those jeans right back off for round four. No wait. That would be number five. He cleared his throat and buttoned his pants. “You’re hard to leave.”

She patted the space next to her. “Still warm.”

He leaned over—didn’t risk sitting—and gave her another one of those body bending, forceful kisses. By the time it was over with, she was breathless. Her mouth was wet from his, and her dreamy eyes filled with a hundred more positions he’d like to bend her into.

He stood once again and let out a heavy sigh. Damn. He never dreaded leaving a woman before so much in his life. If she just wouldn’t pout her lips like that. Or maybe she should just put a sack over her head until he got out of there. As if a paper bag could hide her from his imagination.

He shook his head. He had made arrangements to be here through Monday. No sense in packing all this in one night. Not that he wouldn’t try that again if he got the chance. “Are you free tomorrow around lunch?”

“I can be.” She moaned and hugged a pillow as she rolled to her side. The sheet fell along the sweep of her curves, dipping for her waist and rising over her hips, only to trail along the length of her thighs. “My mom is coming in town sometime in the afternoon, though, so I can’t lie around in my bedroom all day.”

He frowned. “There went my idea.”

She searched him, and damn it. He had to get out of here before he ended up back in the sheets she looked to be strangling. She wadded the sheet another turn around her hands, dipping it lower down her chest until the light shade of her pink nipples started to show. “You did want to see how well I could remember my way through the trails in the woods. I know of a couple places we could disappear to for a while. I have a big blanket.”

He scrubbed over his face, and there was no erasing the immediate image of her naked under the sun and waiting to do whatever they could dream up. “I like the sound of that.”

“Do you know where The Curve is?”

“I can find out. Noon?”

“Noon sounds good.”

“I have to go. By any luck, Brandon hasn’t locked me out.”

She loosened her grip on the sheet, letting it dip. “If he has, it won’t take long to warm a spot in the bed back up.”

Another five minutes here and he could justify staying. It was time to go. Celebrating had to end so he could spill the news with his brother and begin the celebration all over again. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’ll walk you out.” She stood off the bed, leaving the sheet behind, and encouraged his dick to get a rash on his zipper. He looked away and made the mistake of staring at the torn apart bed. Sex good enough that the sheets weren’t even on the bed anymore? That about described their night. He faced her and found she’d dropped a thin tank on that stopped at her hips.

She turned at the waist and modeled green panties. “I told you I had better ones.”

Lace wrapped her hips and covered her in sheer sexiness. Did. Not. Want. To. Leave. “I’d still rather see them on the floor with the other pair.”

Her cheeks pinked as she tucked some of her hair back. “If Brandon locked you out, I’ll personally make that happen.”

He prayed on the way out that Brandon had not only locked the door, he’d placed land mines over a field of red sensors that would set off flame cannons as a warning to anyone attempting to cross them.

She followed him downstairs and stopped by the door where his shirt was puddled on the floor next to his shoes.

He tossed them on and faced her. Oh, that was a mistake. He gave her another shake of his head. “If I kiss you again, I don’t know that I’ll be able to leave.”

Her head tipped as she arched her back in another feline stretch. Through the thin white tank, her nipples puckered. “I’m okay with that.”

There was a slender table in the hall, and he could have his pants open and her bent over it in about two seconds. He had no doubts she was wet. Or he could just put her on the nearest wall. Take her on the floor. Looked like a living room was just behind her. He hadn’t had her across his lap in a chair yet. One position after another fired through his brain. Ways to keep himself busy for the next six or so hours filled his head. That didn’t even include her input. Or rather, her instance, like that time she climbed on top of him and rode him for all he was worth.

Sweat damped his back and his dick was hard again. “I have to get.”

She smiled with a glance to his button, then back to his eyes. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

The cool darkness of the night surrounded him and eased the heat rising in his spine. He made it a step and the porch light flickered on. His smile broadened as he climbed in his car. Her scent filled the interior and washed away the leather. The eagerness of her tone rushed back to him. He wasn’t a crying man, but he was close to weeping.

He hurried out the drive and back to the bar or he feared spending the night in his car. Returning to her house wouldn’t be the best idea. If it was hell to leave now, first thing in the morning would no doubt be worse when he could make breakfast in bed happen.

He pulled into the lot and some lights were dim through the front doors. Relief lifted off his shoulders. He parked around the backside and let himself in. Not too late. A low glow shone from the stairs. He weaved through the narrow halls and found his brother over a sink washing dishes.

“Hey, you’re still awake.”

Brandon nodded. “For another hour or so. I like to get the place cleaned at night.”

“Getting the spilled beer before it starts to smell?” Looked like old neat freak habits didn’t die. Where Justin was ready for adventure and excitement, Brandon was concerned with mud on their boots when they got home. Justin tended to forget he even had on boots after whatever they’d done that night still raced through his head.

Like tonight with the time he’d spent with Whitney. With her back arching, pants passing her reddened lips, and her wild hair going everywhere. Such wild, wild hair that bounced over her naked shoulders with each hard thrust.

Damn it, his dick just settled.

“Yep.” Brandon kept focused on his glasses and never bothered to look up or even realize Justin’s mind had left the building.

Brandon’s vague acknowledgement could mean a number of things, with the top two being either Brandon was tired, or two, Justin had done something wrong. He leaned hard on the latter with a dose of the former, but what Justin could have done, he didn’t have a clue. Being as though Brandon had told him over and over he had the bar alone, and that he didn’t have to wait on customers, Justin knew it couldn’t have been because he’d left in the middle of the shift.

Stayed out too late? Maybe, but it wasn’t like Brandon had been happy when he knocked on the door in the first place. The surprise on his brother’s face had lasted two seconds before asking what the hell was he doing there. Not quite the reunion he’d hoped for, so he couldn’t imagine Brandon giving a shit how late he stayed out.

Figuring out Brandon was an impossible task, since the man left his wife and came here. For all Justin knew, Brandon really needed to get laid. So long as he was married, he wasn’t seeing any other women. Since he was separated from his wife for some six years now, but not yet divorced, Justin was going with cranky and would resist taking his brother’s attitude personally.

If Justin was going without sex for that long, he’d have probably killed a couple people.

Maybe the news about them expanding would be what Brandon needed to drag him out of this small town hellhole and get him back to work. Brandon had been alive and ready to tackle life. Even when he’d met Dixie, he’d been a force. Next thing Justin knew, Brandon dropped everything and left him high and dry.

With this news sitting on his chest and about to burst, Justin doubted he could wait until morning. Brandon was awake. In a few minutes, he would be done working. Maybe he could talk him into a drink so they’d be ready to celebrate as soon as the news came out.

Just as soon as this place was cleaned, then he could get his brother’s full attention. “Have you wiped the tables yet?”

“Nope.” He still focused on the dishes.

Justin sighed and wet a rag in the hot dishwater. “I’ll get it done to wrap this up. I’d like to talk after we’re done.”

“All right.”

Silence extended as Justin went over the closer tables. “You’re not curious to know what about?”

“I thought you wanted to talk after we were done, not now.”

He sighed. Brandon didn’t used to be this, hell, much of a hardass? That didn’t seem the right word. A jerk? Stubborn for unknown reasons? Justin would give anything to know why their marriage had fallen apart. If he knew why it broke, maybe he could fix it. Or at least fix what broke his brother. So far, nothing from Brandon. Justin’s attempts to reach out to Brandon’s wife netted him nothing but a friendly “it’s good to hear from you again” bullshit. “I do. Just thought you’d be curious and try to pry information out of me. It’s not every day I drop by and see you.”

“I noticed.”

Justin bit back the response that he’d been a little busy running their business alone, and Brandon hadn’t reached out to see him either. It’s not like Brandon had rolled out any great welcome to encourage more visits. Hell, Whitney had given a better welcome and he didn’t even know her.

He didn’t want a fight to start, not on this day, so he ignored his brother’s tone, as much as that grated. “Looks like you’re doing well here.”

“I am. Lot of people are starting to ask if I’ll put a TV in, so I’m going to see about that over the summer.”

“You get too many more people in here and you’ll have to hire some help.”

His brother paused for a second and washed again. “I like it just me.”

“If you hired someone, then maybe you could come see me sometime.”

“I have no interest in the city. Nothing but trouble there.”

And his only brother. Their business was also there. Rawlings Steakhouse didn’t exist in a backwater town like this.

He wiped over another table and decided what the hell, let’s test the waters. “You met Dixie in a city. That couldn’t have been all trouble, since you married her.”

The water came on and ended that conversation. At least his brother didn’t walk away at the mention of her. Progress? It probably shouldn’t be counted. Justin went over the last of the table tops as Brandon set the final dish in the rack.

Justin tossed his rag in the sink. “We done?”

“I need to dry them or they’ll spot.”

Justin glanced around and found a stack of folded towels under the counter. “I’ll dry and you put away.”

Brandon yawned and nodded. “All right.”

Justin got started and passed several glasses off. “Feels like old times.”

“Old, old times.”

He couldn’t say if he missed working behind a bar or not. It was different now, since it seemed more like playtime compared to before when it was the only way to pay the bills. Maybe that’s why Brandon was doing this. Familiar work he didn’t have to do. Like a hobby. Hell of an exhausting hobby, though.

They did the last dish and Brandon fixed a glass of water. “Is this going to take long?”

“Not too long.” Ignoring his brother’s cranky attitude would get them there faster. With any luck, exhaustion contributed to a lot of his short words. Since he already had a glass of water in his hands and was pushing for bed, Justin didn’t mention the idea for drinks. They could toast later. “Let me get something.”

Brandon nodded and shut off the lights to the bar. “I’ll be in the kitchen. If there’s lights on in the front, people think I’m open, even though it’s Sunday.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Dry on Sunday in Arkansas.”

“Oh.” Another reason Justin was ready to get back home, but no alcohol served tomorrow meant his brother wouldn’t be working. They could stay up for the rest of the night if they wanted and sleep all day.

Justin grabbed his folder with the papers in it, snatched a pen in case there wasn’t one handy, and hurried down. Light spilled in the entryway by the back door, and he followed it as it got brighter. Brandon sat at a small wooden table that had three chairs around it. The glass of water he’d fixed had two sips left. He slouched in the high back, eyes closed. The deep yawn signaled he wasn’t asleep.

Justin sat across from him. “Can’t fall asleep on me now.”

“Getting close.”

“I think I have something that will wake you up.” Justin slid the papers across the table. “We did it.”

Brandon scrubbed over his face. His brows buckled as he stared. He didn’t flip through the small stack or so much as touch even the top page. “What am I looking at? You know I hate legal terms.”

A bit of a smile touched Justin. Brandon had never been a fan of legal. Which suited Justin fine because he wasn’t a fan of working in a hot kitchen, where Brandon liked to be. Or where he used to like being. “Those fifteen pages say our dreams are coming true. It’s happening. We have an offer that’s going to branch us out as far as we want to go.”