The black dress came to just above her knees and swirled with every step. The sweetheart neckline and thin straps left very little to the imagination. Lo hadn't understood why Tessa had packed it. Of all the cute sundresses and summery clothes she owned, this was by far her “sexiest.” Now, Lo was very happy it had been packed.
She dusted some shimmery blush on her cheeks and stared at herself in the mirror.
Her conversation with Tessa had been remarkably helpful, like she knew it would be. But her goals were blurring. Like heat rising off hot pavement, tomorrow was hard to see. Except she knew one thing for certain, she wanted Brady to be there. Tomorrow, next week, next year.
Weeks ago when they'd first met at a formal event, the evening had felt... enchanted. Something out of a dream or fantasy. She knew that night he was the type of man she could lose herself in. And it had scared her.
Growing up with the parents she'd had, she'd watched her mom throw her heart after bad love over and over. It had left an impact on her tender soul and she had internally vowed to never love like that. She would never love someone more than they loved her. She would never love someone who could ruin her.
Brady
After the door had been fixed and he'd gotten their marching orders from the hotel, Brady took a very long shower.
He flexed his hand over and over under the running water, watching the tears and bruises on his knuckles move and pull.
He'd never hit someone who wasn't Bo before.
Fighting with his brother was very different than fighting over the honor of a woman.
It was more visceral.
He wouldn't change it. Maybe that's what was throwing him off. He didn't regret it. The feeling he was experiencing was shame for lack of regret. He wasn't even angry at Miller anymore. Anger had been replaced with guilty satisfaction.
Miller had deserved an ass kicking.
Still.
Brady didn't like looking at his broken hands against the softness of Lo's skin. It felt wrong. Dirty.
She wouldn't see it that way. She took him as he came, bumps and all.
But it was heavy in his mind and granite in his heart.
Maybe it was her acceptance of his actions which was throwing him off. She didn't even question him. No lecture or harsh words about self-control. What about her reaction was concerning him?
He lost focus as it hit him powerfully in his chest.
She trusted him.
Not in the way she had before. Not as teammates or as friends.
She trusted him intuitively. Naturally.
It's everything he wanted. All he'd been working towards. But it had happened explosively and unexpectedly and suddenly Brady wasn't sure if he had earned that kind of trust.
Lo
Tacos, margaritas, dancing. In that order.
Lo laced her fingers behind Brady's neck as they swayed to the Incubus song “Promises, Promises.” He hadn't taken his eyes off of her all night. At first, she had been a little self-conscious of the added attention. But it seemed more for his own benefit than hers. Like he was finding a solid hold on reality by being connected to her.
He'd been quiet. Reflectively quiet. As though he had more on his mind than he knew what to do with.
She scratched the back of his neck lightly with her fingernails and smiled softly. “What's up with you?”
He took a deep breath and his arms flexed around her. “I got us kicked out of the hotel.”
She sucked in a breath, not expecting him to say that, but not really surprised either. He had broken down a door.
And here he was, trying to make sure she didn't feel the weight of it.
“Okay,” she said.
“And Shane is calling us home tomorrow to restructure.”
“Oh.” She stared at his chest as his words sank in. It wasn't shocking, but it was a little disappointing.
“I'm so undeniably yours,” he said roughly, getting her eyes back. “Just... yours.”
Lo pressed her ear to his heart and he wrapped his arms around her. She closed her eyes and held on, unsure what else to do. The only thing she could think was to hold him.
Brady
Brady's eyes slid to the doorway of his room.
“What do you need, babe?”
They'd come back from the bar and packed their belongings silently, knowing they had to check out in the morning. And then retired. Her to her room, him to his. Where he stared at the ceiling unable to put to rest the unease in his chest at where his actions had brought them.
Now she was standing in the doorway in sleep shorts and tank top.
“I want to hold you,” she said gently, taking three steps toward and stopping.
His lips pulled up on one side. He might be hers, but she was his. He opened the covers for her and she crawled into them, wrapping herself around him. Her warm presence a soothing balm to his ragged nerves.
She burrowed into him, her head to his chest, her heart beating against his side. She'd sensed his turmoil and had come to offer her comfort. It was so much more than he ever expected and everything he needed.
Somewhere along the way, he'd stopped fighting his need of her. And now it just was. A need as essential as breathing or hydration. She was the beats his heart made, the curve in his smile, the joy in his laugh.
And now, the rest in his night.
“I love you,” she whispered into the dark of the room.
His arms tensed around her, feeling her body heavy with sleep sink further into him. She might not even know she'd said it.
But it didn't change the fact it was true.