A Hotter Touch, A Better F... Than Any Girl You'll Ever Meet

Chapter 18

There’s this thing about temptations. The more they present themselves, the more alluring they become.

After nearly a week of Brendon not really getting the point, it was driving me crazy. His wandering hands became a blessed curse and each time they touched my more sensitive parts it became harder to remove the hand and ask him to stop.

I think he found it frustrating. Especially because he could so obviously turn me on, and yet I kept stopping him.

I was walking around with more or less of a permanent boner. And I had no idea how to explain what was going through my mind. Hurting Brendon again had become my greatest fear and yet I was probably doing it every day.

It didn't help that Brent and Spencer more or less moved onto the FOB bus, wanting to give us the room we needed to stabilize and build our relationship. I mean, I was grateful for that; I loved spending time alone with Brendon. But the problem with his loose hands wouldn't present itself if we weren't alone so much.

******

I was cutting out bread for lunch, trying to ignore the loaded, tense silence.

Brendon was seated at the table behind me, waiting for the food. Yeah, my turn to 'cook'.

We'd been on the couch again and shit was getting heavy.

I'd been so far gone that I hadn't known how to stop him at all.

This time his stomach had been the one to grumble and thereby save us.

I'd taken that excuse to starting to mutter frantically about lunch and hunger before I got off the couch and headed for the kitchenette.

I hadn't looked at him since. Looking at him would not help my situation… downstairs. And I subconsciously knew that even by not looking at him I was hurting him again. So much for 'everything on the table'. I could hit myself. But I didn't know what else to do.

Finally done with the bread, I picked it and some jam off the table, went and placed it, sending Brendon a miniscule smile as I placed both things on the table before heading back for plates and knifes. At least my lower parts had calmed enough to enable me to look at him again.

Placing down the knifes and plates, I sat down across from him and started smearing jam on my piece of bread.

He wasn't touching the food.

"Brendon, eat," I muttered before picking up my bread to take a bite.

He still wasn't moving to grab anything.

I sighed lightly, sinking the bite before leaning across the table to press a kiss against his cheek. "You're the one who was hungry," I reminded hi,. "I know it's not the best lunch ever, but please…" I think I was actually begging him with the last sentence. I just wanted the tension gone.

He met my eyes, allowing me view to his insecurities through the dark orbs once again. "Do you love me?" he suddenly asked.

"I guess so," I answered softly, mentally kicking myself for not being clearer. "I mean, when you walked off the bus and I thought it was for good, I didn't really think about the band or our friendship or anything. I just thought about never getting to see you again and never getting a chance with you because I'm so fucking slow. And it broke my heart, seriously."

He smiled slightly, as if those words had helped just a bit.

But I'd started talking and I wasn't stopping. If reassurance was what he needed, then that was what he was going to get. "When we talk or kiss or whatever, when we’re simply together, I feel like I’m lifted to a better place." I blushed slightly. "I know it's incredibly corny, but it's the truth. That place, it's amazing and I never want to leave it. I'd spend the rest of my life there. And if that's loving you, if loving you feels like that, then yeah, I love you. And I never want it to end."