Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother (Maya Scott) novel Chapter 120

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BRAYDON’S POV

“Tell me you love me.” I manage to pull back just enough to whisper against her lips. Katy stares into me, her eyes wide and bright, a teasing smirk playing on her mouth.

“You’re so needy,” she says, shifting as she straddles me. “I kind of like you needy, though.”

“I don’t care,” I admit, the jealousy and the want hitting me in one messy wave. I don’t care if I sound needy. I want to be the only guy in her head, the only man to hold her in this position, to know what she feels like when she cums. “Tell me I’m the only one. Say it.”

Her expression softens, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I love you, Braydon Cooper,” she whispers. “I always have.”

“I love you more than you’ve even realized yet,” I say, burying my face in the crook of her neck. I find that sensitive spot right below her ear, and she shivers, her breath catching. “I’m going

to spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”

She pulls back suddenly, her gaze searching mine like she’s trying to decode a message. For a second, I wonder again if the rest of my life talk is too heavy right now, but I can’t take it back.

“Did that sound like a threat?” I ask, my voice rough.

“The best kind,” she breathes, and then she’s leaning in, her lips crashing against mine.

The kiss is heavy, fueled by so much longing and the sheer, intoxicating reality of her. I realize right now that I can’t go forty-eight hours without this…without her, and instead of that feeling being terrifying, it just feels like the truth. My tongue brushes hers, luring her in, and losing myself in the taste of her.

As I guide her back onto the mattress, she looks up at me, her hair fanned out against the pillows. I feel the heat of her body beneath mine and the reaffirmation washes over me: I’m never going back to sleeping in an empty bed. I’ll work as hard as I have to keep her.

I cup her face, deepening the kiss as I stretch out over her. My hands wander, tracing the curves I’ve memorized until they slip beneath her cotton shirt. Her fingers dig into my chest, pulling me closer, and I start working the buttons of her shirt, desperate for the friction of skin on skin.

I yank her shirt off and toss it toward the carpet. Even though I’ve seen her a dozen times, looking at her still floors me. I catch my breath, just taking her in.