“Right.” I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and try to stifle the next laugh that follows at his misfortune. “At least we’re even now…”
“And before six a.m.,” he laughs. “Look at us go.” The air around us is finally breathable, like all the tension from the night before had lightened just enough for us to enjoy the morning. He wanders around me back to his rock, before he pats the ground beneath his legs.
I stare at him for a second, confused by his actions.
“Your hair,” he says, and I reach up to find my ponytail is barely hanging on and soaking wet.
An accurate representation of my mental state right now.
“I can fix it…” I say quickly. Trying to avoid contact with him.
“I need the practice,” he says without breaking eye contact. I swallow my nerves and walk over. Once I find a comfy position between his legs, he gently pulls the hair from the elastic and tugs it over his wrist, even though I offer to hold it.
The feeling of his fingers in my hair is therapeutic, and I hate that it’s becoming a habit. I feel myself lean back into his touch as my eyes close, and he gently brushes out any knots before starting the braid.
“You’re getting really good at this,” I mumble as his fingers loop around the next strand, tugging it just enough to make the braid tight, but not hurt me.
“I have a really patient teacher,” he says, and I’m not sure if he means it to be as soft as it comes out, but it makes my cheeks warm. “Stop wiggling.” The demand is laced with concentration.
“You’re bossy this morning,” I scowl, and he tugs a piece of my hair harder on purpose, causing me to laugh and turn my head up at him. It rests against his thigh as I stare at him upside down with a soft scowl on my face. “Ow.”
He freezes, and that tense air rushes back in around us, only this time it feels encouraging. The breeze whispers through his damp, dark hair as all the birds go quiet and the world completely slows to a stop. Brighton’s eyes watch me intently, his fingers still tangled in my hair. Last night was confusing, and it made me unsure about everything, but this morning? I can feel his intention; it radiates from him like sunbeams. His hand loosens its grip and dances across my throat until it’s cupped gently beneath my chin, with his thumb caressing my jawline with the softest of touches.
I could die happy here.
When his lips part, I inhale, preparing myself for him to tell me that this is a bad idea.And it is, it’s a terrible fucking idea.But he smells like the trees, and the fading apple and spice of his cologne, and my mind is dizzy with it, stumbling around, tripping on air,over him.
Brighton’s lips meet mine in a kiss so gentle my whole body melts back against him. His fingers tighten at my throat just enough to expose hislack of control, and my eyes flutter closed as he deepens the connection. His body leans over mine, and a small, wondrous rumble leaves his chest as my hand cups the back of his head and tangles into the wet curls at the base of his neck.
He pulls away just as slow, almost begrudgingly, with a soft curse off his reddened lips, and his intense gaze meets mine as I finally open my eyes.What the fuck was that?His fingers loosen around my throat, but he doesn’t remove them as I catch my breath.
Oh, we are so fucked.
It was just a kiss.
One simple and quick kiss.
It meant nothing.We were just out in the woods, alone—the mood was right.
He hasn’t spoken a word to me since unpacking the truck this morning.
My conscience was eating me alive.
“Earth to Reaper.” Kaia snaps her fingers in my face. “Here,” she says when I come back to earth. She has a martini in her hand and a scowl on her face. “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing,” I say too quickly, and she narrows her judgmental brown eyes at me.
“Spill,” she demands, taking my arm and leading me out onto Sunday’s back porch. “Is it about the Terminator?”
“Don’t call him that,” I scoff.
“It is!” She pinches me gently and throws back her entire drink before setting it on the table beside her and pressuring me to finish mine. “All of it.” She nudges the bottom of my glass, tipping it back so it burns down my throat until it’s totally gone, and my stomach is full of vodka. “That’s my girl.”
“He kissed me.” I blurt after a rough swallow. “I kissed him…”
“You touched faces.Romantically?” Kaia mocks me with a grin. “Holy shit. Was it good?”
“Yeah, really good,” I breathe out. “But this is bad.”
