Chapter 177

Summer's POV

"Brandon!" The voice on the phone was so loud I could hear it clearly even though I wasn't on the call. The shrill, demanding tone made me wince.

Brandon's expression hardened as he listened to whatever his mother was saying. The muscles in his jaw tightened, his eyes darkening dangerously.

"Mother, I don't have time for this discussion," he cut her off abruptly. "It’s late, and I need to eat dinner. Goodnight." He ended the call with a decisive tap, slipping the phone into his pocket.

I realized I was still gripping his hand and probably had been since his mother called. When he noticed, his expression softened immediately, one eyebrow lifting in question.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice gentle.

I shook my head, hesitating for a moment before asking. "Do you and your mother... not get along well?"

The coldness in his voice when he spoke to Jane Sinclair had been impossible to miss. There was history there—a lot of it, and none of it good from what I could tell.

"Is there some kind of misunderstanding between you two?" I pressed when he didn't immediately answer.

"No," Brandon replied, his tone suddenly light as he reached out to ruffle my hair. The abrupt shift was jarring. "Don't overthink it. Weren't you saying dinner's ready? Let's go."

I recognized a deflection when I heard one. Whatever was going on between Brandon and his mother, he clearly didn't want to discuss it. I decided to play along. "Sure, I'll dish up for you!" I said with forced brightness, heading toward the kitchen.

As I arranged our plates at the dining table, I couldn't stop thinking about Brandon's relationship with his mother. The Stark family dynamics were clearly complicated, with Jane Sinclair pushing Elle toward Brandon despite his obvious disinterest. It reminded me a bit too much of my own family situation. Between Brandon's fractured relationship with his mother and my toxic connection to the Taylors, we were quite the pair.

I should have known that Brandon's mood would follow us into the bedroom. Something about his mother always seemed to trigger a deep, restless energy within him, and tonight was no exception.

The moment the door closed, the atmosphere shifted. Brandon’s silence was heavy, charged with an intensity that seemed to vibrate in the air. He didn't speak, but the way he looked at me—with a dark, unreadable fire in his eyes—told me everything. His touch was more demanding than usual, his movements fueled by a raw, unfiltered need that he couldn't seem to suppress.

He pulled me into a fierce embrace, his kiss deep and possessive, as if he were trying to drown out the echoes of his mother’s voice with the reality of my presence. There was a desperate edge to his passion tonight, a silent declaration that in this room, in this moment, I was the only thing that mattered to him.

"Brandon—" I murmured against his lips, but he silenced me with another kiss, his hands firm as they guided me back against the pillows.

The night became a whirlwind of intense connection. It wasn't the gentle, slow romance we often shared; instead, it was a profound release of the tension he had been carrying. He moved with a relentless focus, his presence overwhelming and all-consuming. Every touch was an assertion of his claim over me, a silent promise that he would never let the outside world—or his family—interfere with what we had.

I found myself swept up in the tide of his emotions, my own heart racing to match his pace. It was a beautiful, chaotic collision of two souls. In the shadows of the room, he let his guard down in the only way he knew how, revealing the depth of the hunger and the fierce loyalty he felt for me.

As the storm finally subsided, Brandon pulled me close, his breathing ragged against my ear. He held me with a desperate kind of strength, his hand resting heavily on my waist.

"You're mine, June," he whispered, his voice rough and low, the words vibrating through me. "Only mine."

I leaned into him, exhausted but grounded by the sheer weight of his devotion. The tension of the evening had finally broken, leaving us both spent in the quiet aftermath. As I drifted toward sleep, I realized that while Brandon’s past might be filled with shadows, the fire he felt for me was the only light he truly cared about.