© 2017 Krista Pakseresht. All Rights Reserved.
“Braxton!” I shout at him. “Put me down.”
He doesn’t listen to me at all, and I’m worried he is going to try to walk me through the entire venue like this, which won’t bode well for anyone.
Instead of marching me to the merch table like I imagined, he ends up carrying me into the green room for the band. Attached to the green room, there is a private bathroom and he doesn’t release me until we are secured inside. He locks the door behind my head and then places both of his palms on the door behind my back, pinning me in place.
“What are you doing?” I ask, but my voice sounds small. My heart is beginning to race from the closeness of his body, his lips.
“Robert isn’t the guy for you,” Braxton says in a definitive tone.
“And you would know that how?” I push back, irritated.
“Because he’s not a good guy,” he answers.
I scoff, breaking eye contact with a roll of my eyes. “No one is good enough for you or Cade.”
Braxton shakes his head. “You deserve better than him, Em.”
I lock eyes with him again. “And what, do you think of yourself as some kind of saint or something?”
He looks offended or slightly hurt, but he recovers quickly. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes; I don’t deny that.”
“What do you want, Braxton?” I ask, frustrated in more ways than one.
He pauses for a few moments, takes a deep breath, and then looks me deeply in the eyes. “I want you.”
I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, but that was not it. I’m so thrown off by it, if I weren’t backed up firmly against the wall, I would have stumbled over my own feet.
“You…what?” I’m still trying to process his words when he takes another step into my personal bubble.
“I…want…you,” he says the words slowly and in a whisper against my lips sending chills down my arms.
“But you’ve been avoiding me…you—” His lips cut me off as he presses them firmly against mine.