The image of him and Faith, their lips touching, the way his hand fell to the swell of her hip, flashes through my mind.
“Yes. Bram,” I answer, deliberately petulant.
“You know what I’m asking.”
I hesitate.
“No one is going to want to kiss you if you can’t look at them,” Emmett says.
“I’m not looking at you, and you want to kiss me.” I want him to deny it,tell me I’m wrong.
“I want to kiss everyone,” he says, and that stings more.
“And everyone wants to kiss you, how lucky.” I try to make it sound like a joke, but I can’t manage it, my voice comes out brittle.
“But not you,” he says quietly.
“No, not me.”
“Did you kiss him back?”
“Yes.”Did I? I tried to.
“You looked beautiful that night,” Emmett adds almost guiltily. “I’m not surprised he kissed you. You’re doing your job well.”
“There’s no need for flattery,” I reply.
“It’s not flattery if it’s the truth.”
“I’m not so sure about that. I’m pretty sure I froze up. He didn’t try to kiss me after that fight at the club. Maybe he didn’t want to.”
“You asked what I would do if you were one of those girls I take to the garden at parties. You want the truth?” Emmett asks. “I wouldn’t do anything, not if you don’t even know how to kiss.”
“Now you’re the one being mean.”
He’s silent for a moment, and it’s as if I can hear the wheels turning in his head. There’s an unceasing heat where his eyes bore into the side of my face.
“I could teach you,” he says.
The excuse is gossamer thin. He knows as well as I do, I’ll be kicked out of the competition, or worse, upon our return to camp tomorrow. I’m never going to kiss Bram again.
I should say no. But it’s Emmett.
It’s Emmett, as in, I have no control over it.
I turn to look at him, our faces only a breath apart. And his eyes,his eyes.The peculiar hazel color dances gold in the moonlight.
His gaze pins me like a shadowboxed butterfly.
“All right,” I whisper. I’m flushed all over, like the knowledge that he’s about to touch me is as good as the touching itself.
I push myself up so I’m sitting cross-legged on the bed. Emmett rises and places a warm hand on my knee.
He leans in, but just as I expect his lips to brush mine, he pulls back and makes me chase it.
For a moment, there is just warmth, and pressure.
I press my lips to his, harder, but don’t know what to do next. Emmett stills against me. I pull back and huff out a sigh of frustration.
