Something Like Trust Page 3

  “I’m sorry,” Brandon said, softly and with feeling. I gave him a sad smile.

  “Thank you,” I responded, meaning it. “Thankfully, I was stationed at Pendleton at the time and not deployed. I got to Portland, where we lived then, in a matter of hours. But it was just us, the kids were fourteen, and after we laid our parents to rest, I knew there was no way I could stay in the Corps. They weren’t too pleased with letting me go, so I’m individual ready reserve.”

  Millie interrupted then, coming back to the table to take our order. I knew what I wanted, but Brandon had to scramble to decide. Millie was patient, and didn’t bat an eye at Brandon’s blush or his stutter. He ended up ordering the chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes. I ordered the southwest burger and fries.

  When Millie was gone again, I settled back into my chair and let my gaze sweep the interior of the diner. It was still relatively quiet. Only three other tables were occupied; two with elderly couples and one with a young family of four. The Diner wouldn’t get busy again for another hour or so, and that gave Brandon and me plenty of time to eat and leave before the crush.

  I focused my attention back on Brandon. He was studying me, though he kept his gaze averted and looked at me through his eyelashes. I found him adorable on levels I couldn’t even begin to explain. And when I caught his gaze, I loved the blush the spread over his fair skin.

  “So,” I said low and quiet. Brandon sucked in a breath. “Tell me about yourself.”

  Brandon’s smile was tentative, and he had to take a deep breath before he lifted his gaze to mine. “Are you trying to s-say you haven’t s-searched me on the w-web?”

  I grinned and let a laugh escape. “Of course I have.” I didn’t lie, and I wasn’t going to pretend I hadn’t looked him up. He knew better than that. “But there’s painful little information about you out there. I know your birthday, and that you were born and raised in Atlanta. I know you’re thirty and you started acting about three years ago. I know you have a Golden Globe. But that doesn’t mean I know you.”

  Brandon gave a tiny jerk, and his gaze locked on mine. I didn’t know what that smile on his pretty lips meant, but he seemed pleased with me, and that made me happy. Slowly, I slid out my right foot until I could rest it against one of his ankles. It wasn’t much of a touch, but Brandon’s body relaxed and his smile grew.

  “So, what do you want to know?” His voice was low and deep, a different timbre than I was used to hearing from him and not a hint of the stutter. I was ridiculously pleased with him and myself.

  “Whatever you want to tell me.”

  He took a sip of his water and contemplated that for a long moment. He adjusted his ankle to press harder against my foot, and he relaxed a little more. His smile was small, sweet, and shy, and I found myself returning it.

  “There’s not that much to tell, Jared.” He kept his voice soft. But what I noticed was the lack of stutter and that he kept his gaze fixed on my eyes. Again, it confirmed my suspicion the stutter came from nerves, and I was beyond satisfied that he felt comfortable with me after such a short time.

  “I don’t believe that,” I responded, leaning close and resting my forearms on the table. “I think there’s plenty to tell.”

  Brandon just looked at me like he didn’t understand what I was saying. I forced down the laugh that threatened to escape. He was so damn adorable, and there was no doubt I wanted him under me in bed. But I also wanted to know more about him, wanted to know who he really was, and I couldn’t find that out if he didn’t cooperate with me a little.

  A thought struck, and because I didn’t play games and met challenges head on, I asked him flat out. “Do you not want to be here, Brandon? Is a date not what you were looking for?”

  “No!” His protest was fast and a little loud, and he blushed dark red the instant it came out of his mouth. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, and pulled his foot away from mine. For a long second, I didn’t know what to do. But then he took a deep breath and slowly lifted his gaze to mine. “That’s not…I want to be here. On a d-date with you. I just don’t know how to t-talk about m-myself.”

  The tension bled from my shoulders, and I laid a hand on the table, palm up. Brandon stared at it. It took him a couple of minutes, but he uncurled and slowly placed his hand in mine. I folded my fingers around his, stroking his palm a little, and he relaxed a fraction.

  “Good,” I said when I was sure I had his complete attention. There was something in his eyes that I recognized, a desire for trust, which had me carefully contemplating my next move. I knew what I needed to do. Keeping my voice low, I said, “Maybe we should talk about what we both want from this so we know where the other stands.”

  Brandon’s nod was immediate, and his fingers squeezed tighter around mine. “Yes, please.”

  I waited for him to go on, to tell me what he wanted, but when he didn’t, I knew I had to ask. Or command, was more like it. “Okay, then. Tell me what you want, Brandon.”

  “I, um, I…” He stopped, sucked in a breath, then reached for his water with his free hand. He took several big swallows, then set the glass on the table. “I’m in town for only another six weeks or so. Just until we finish filming. But I w-want…while I’m h-here, I w-want—”

  “To maybe date me a little?” I teased gently, knowing that the stuttering meant he was nervous.

  For a few seconds, he didn’t say anything. Then he lifted his gaze, and stared directly at me. “Yes. And for you to fuck me. Hard.”

  Well, then. My dick stood at attention at the dirty words coming out of his pretty mouth. I was surprised at his boldness, but I loved his direct approach. “We can do that.”

  He breathed out a sigh, and held my hand even tighter. “I know it can’t be more, because I’ll be gone when filming is over. But while I’m here, I c-could…” he paused, and dropped his gaze to the table before he continued in a small voice. “I could be yours?”

  The way he said it left no doubt as to what he wanted. We’d have to talk about it more before we actually got into the bedroom, but a diner was no place to have this conversation. But his words, his demeanor, made it clear. Brandon Culpepper wanted to be owned, and I was more than happy to oblige him. Even if it was only for his stay in Seattle, we would have a month and a half. It could be very good.

  “Yes, Brandon,” I responded, resisting the urge to pull him into my lap. “You can be mine.”

  Chapter 4

  When the meal was finished, Brandon ducked into the bathroom. With the place starting to fill up, and Millie’s extra servers coming on duty, I wanted to get Brandon out of there. He wasn’t a huge name, but he was definitely recognizable. While I knew him to be patient and polite to fans, I’d rather neither one of us had to deal with that tonight. Keeping one eye on the restroom, I swiftly crossed the floor to get to the register. Millie met me there with a smile and the check.

  “That is one beautiful man,” Millie said, her tone a cross between disbelieving and impressed. She winked and I laughed, handing over my credit card.

  “Yes, he is,” I agreed. I signed the receipt when she handed it over, adding a generous tip. Millie’s service and food were always worth it.

  “You know, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve seen him before.” Millie leaned closer, her keen gaze darting around for eavesdroppers. “But I would have remembered if he’d been in to eat.”

  She was fishing. I’d bet that she actually had a pretty good idea why he looked familiar. Not much got past Millie, and I thought that anything that did was because she allowed it. Even though I trusted her, I was under a contractual obligation not to speak about what I saw on the set of Rourke and Geary. I didn’t think that Brandon would appreciate it either. I gave Millie a smile and a nod, and stepped back.

  Millie tried the “mom” glare, but I was immune to such things and she knew it. When I still refused to give in, she let out a small laugh and held up a hand in surrender.

  “It’s my job,” I
said by way of apology. That, at least, she understood, even as it made her all the more curious. She gave me a speculative glance, then her gaze cut to my right. I immediately turned in that direction to see Brandon approaching. He looked a little wary, nervous even. I thought we’d laid that to rest between us. I held out a hand and he took it immediately, his posture relaxing. I squeezed his fingers as I pulled him in close so his body was next to mine. His head barely reached my shoulder.

  I had to tamp down a surge of lust.

  “Ready to go?” I asked quietly, tugging him toward the door.

  Brandon nodded fast, licked his lips, then pressed close against my side. I thought, at first, he was just maneuvering between the tables. But even as we reached the open expanse in front of the door, he stayed close. When we made it onto the sidewalk, he was all but clinging to my arm.

  I walked quickly, wanting him in the relative safety of my Tahoe. I wanted him off the street where anyone could see or hear him, and inside the confines of the vehicle where there was no chance of harm. Brandon was obliging enough, staying close and letting me help him inside once we reached the SUV.

  It wasn’t until I was seated behind the wheel that he blew out a long breath and turned those crystalline blue eyes on me.

  “Jared?” his voice was tentative. Laced with a shake that could have been nerves except he didn’t stutter over my name.

  “Yes, angel?”

  His breath caught, then shuddered out as he exhaled. His voice was barely above a whisper. “D-do you w-want to come b-back to my hotel?”

  I rapidly weighed the pros and cons of that, my brain used to making snap decisions. It was easy to see exactly how bad an idea that was. There was too much that could go wrong, too many variables. I needed something safer for him.

  “No,” I said quietly but firmly. I saw that split second where his face started to fall, the hope in his eyes dying, and I was quick to continue. “You should come back to my place. No paparazzi, a hell of a lot more peaceful, and a hell of a lot closer. There are some things we need to discuss, don’t you think?”

  A heartbeat passed. Then two. Then Brandon sucked in a great breath, letting it out slowly. He did it one more time, then he turned to look at me, his face serene. “Yes, sir.”

  Outstanding.

  Without a second’s hesitation, I pointed the vehicle toward home.

  * * * *

  I’d been especially cautious on the way home to make sure we hadn’t been followed. Though I was certain we hadn’t, I nevertheless ushered Brandon into the house once we arrived. I was self-aware enough to recognize that it wasn’t all protectiveness. I was anxious, excited even, to get him into my bed.

  Brandon stayed close to my side as I unlocked the front door, and moved with me into the living room. I could see the uncertainty and the nervousness on his face. I took his hand, pulling him in as I sat on the couch. He sat beside me, and when I encouraged it, curled into my side. I loved feeling him there, his weight and his warmth against me, and I simply sat and breathed, soaking it in for several long moments.

  “Jared?” Brandon finally spoke. “I thought we were going to…”

  I suppressed a smile at the way he trailed off, unable to complete the sentence. I gave him a squeeze before releasing him just enough so that we could look into each other’s eyes. I had to know I had his complete attention, that he was right there with me as we had this conversation.

  “Oh, we are,” I assured him. I cupped his jaw and ran my thumb over his bottom lip. “But there’s something I need to know before we get to the me fucking you hard part.”

  Brandon turned red even as his pupils dilated and his breath caught in his throat. His lips fell open just a bit, and I swear I felt his tongue touch my thumb. For the moment, I didn’t react to that stimulus, though keeping myself in check was difficult. But I didn’t let my gaze waver from his.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong here,” I said softly, staring into his eyes and making sure he was hearing me through the lust. “But from what I’ve observed, you’re a fairly submissive person.”

  I almost held my breath waiting for his response. Some people reacted negatively to the word submissive, thinking it meant weak and useless. I certainly didn’t think so and I was hoping Brandon didn’t either. I was ready to set the record straight, to explain exactly how much that character trait appealed to me. But Brandon lowered his gaze, his eyelashes fluttering.

  “You’re not wrong.” His voice was quiet, but sure.

  I sucked in a fast breath, lust flaring in my veins and heating my blood. “Now the question is, how far does that submissiveness go?”

  Brandon looked confused by my question. Some of the arousal left his gaze as he lifted it to meet mine. His brow creased, just a fraction, crinkling between his eyes. I couldn’t help but reach out with my other hand and smooth away that worry.

  “Normally, I’d just take you into my bedroom and discover what you liked,” I explained. “But I think that, given your personality and mine, we need to talk about it first. Or else it could go too far. For you.”

  “I d-don’t—” he cut himself off and took a deep breath. “I’m not sure exactly what you mean.”

  I nodded. I could see a hesitancy in his face that I hadn’t before. I slid my hands until I was cradling his head, my touch sure and steady, and Brandon relaxed in my hold. He still trusted me, but his confusion was making him wary. I would fix that.

  “I need to know before we get in there what your limits are. Do you want to take this far enough that we need to discuss a safeword?”

  “Oh,” Brandon said, blushing hard, finally understanding. “Um, well.”

  He stopped and licked his lips. His gaze darted around, and finally landed on me. I could see the nervousness, but also resolve there. He grabbed my wrists in his hands, his fingers not quite able to close around the circumference, but instead of tugging out of my hold, he just held on.

  “I like to be held down. Fucked hard. Especially on my stomach.” His nostrils flared as he sucked in a breath, his eyes turning darker. “With you, some bondage could be okay. On my wrists. If you want that. I’m not really into pain, though.”

  There was something about the way he said that last part, the way his gaze skittered away, the hitch of his breath, that made me think it was a lie. I dug my fingers into his scalp, not enough to hurt, but to press, and immediately, I had his complete attention.

  “You don’t like sensual pain?” I asked, being careful to keep my tone light and not sound accusatory.

  “Um.” Brandon licked his lips again. I was going to have to buy the man some lip balm if he kept that up.

  “Brandon,” I said, putting some command into my tone.

  His breath shuddered and hitched, and his whole body swayed a little closer to mine. When he spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper, as if he were divulging a secret. “You can pull my hair. I like that. And spanking.”

  He ended with a moan that let me know just how much he enjoyed spanking. I filed away that information for later. I doubted very much we’d go that far tonight. But I could see how difficult it had been for him to admit that, and I needed to reward his honesty.

  “Thank you,” I said, meaning it, as I leaned in to kiss him. The moment our lips touched, heat pooled low in my belly. What had been simmering between us all evening rushed forward. I’d intended for it to be a gentle kiss, a reward, but it quickly escalated to more. I wanted to fucking devour him.

  The kiss was hard, bruising, as I ate at his mouth, licking and biting. From his reaction, his needy whimpers and whines, the way he tried to push closer, I knew it was exactly what he wanted. When I hauled him into my lap, he came willingly, scrambling over so he could straddle my thighs. He sat, then rocked his hips so his ass and cock rubbed against my groin. I moved my hands fast, clamping my fingers on his waist and making him go still. Immediately, he stopped trying to move, but the intensity of his kiss increased. He was trying to take con
trol, to make me kiss him harder, and that was not going to happen.

  I controlled things, not him.

  I pulled back a fraction, and Brandon’s lips tried to chase mine. Moving one hand to the small of his back and the other to his neck, I squeezed hard enough to get his attention.

  “Brandon,” I warned.

  Instantly, he froze. The only motion at all was his chest as it rose and fell with his panting breaths. That he went that still, that fast, spoke to me on a bone-deep level. Whatever else we got into during the coming weeks was just gravy compared to him obeying my commands. This, right here, was what I craved. The fact that Brandon wanted it and needed it, too, made everything so much better.

  “Bedroom,” I growled, using my strength to physically lift him from my lap as I stood. “Now.”

  Brandon nodded fast, taking hold of my hand and pushing against me. I was never as grateful for my small house before as I was in that moment. It was nothing more than a short walk down the hallway before I was nudging him through the door. He was halfway across the floor when he realized I’d stopped just inside to turn on a lamp and wasn’t following. He turned quickly, a hint of uncertainty crossing his face.

  “Strip,” I commanded.

  His whole body gave a jerk, and he looked at me with wide, trusting eyes as he toed off his shoes while simultaneous yanking his shirt from where it was tucked in his waistband. He unfastened the top several buttons of the shirt, then pulled it off over his head. He looked around, still uncertain, holding that shirt in his hands.

  “Just drop it,” I said, my voice quieter and less harsh. Brandon nodded, letting the shirt flutter to the ground. He returned his gaze to mine as he undid the buckle of his belt. The clasp and zipper of his pants followed, then he pushed them down and stepped out of them.

  My breath caught. Even standing there in an undershirt, briefs and socks, he was breathtaking. His legs were muscled and defined, with a light smattering of dark hair, and the T-shirt molded to his pecs and shoulders. As beautiful as the sight was, I wanted him naked. I wanted skin.