I didn’t stop. His footsteps thundered behind me. Then his firm grip caught my wrist, and I spun around to push his chest. He held my hand there, the top of his shirt unbuttoned, hair wild, and eyes like twin storms.
“You don’t have to do this.” Brenton tucked his chin down. “If choosing me means losing a part of yourself or someone who keeps you grounded, then don’t. I’d rather you not love me than love me out of misplaced guilt.”
“What?” Stunned, I blinked at him. “Brenton?—”
“I’ve survived without you. I’ll keep surviving without you. If Etienne needs you, I’d rather be the one left behind. But I would never have asked you to cut him out of your life to make space for me. You needn’t be a martyr on my account.”
“A martyr?” I ripped my arm from his grasp. “Misplaced guilt? You think I’m doing this because, what, Brenton? I’m being noble?”
Rather than answer, he clenched his jaw, tearing his attention away as if it pained him to look at me.
I snapped.
“I am not noble. I am not some sacrificial . . . thing.” My voice rose with each word I thrust at him. “I cannot breathe in a world where I don’t get to be with you. I’ve lived that life. I’ve suffocated in that life.”
His head turned slowly, his eyes finding mine and holding.
“I love Etienne, yes. But not like this. Never like this. He’s my family, the only family I have. Nothing more.” I stepped closer, voice shaking, half expecting him to turn away. “What I feel for him isn’t the kind of love that burns through my soul. You don’t just burn through my soul but ignite all of me. I am only whole when I’m with you. I’m only at peace in your presence. I only know joy, real joy, when I’m in your arms.”
Silence stretched between us, with only Brenton’s heaving breaths keeping me steady.
“This is what I choose,” I said, quieter now. “I don’t want to hurt Etienne, and even though he asked me to give myself over to my feelings for you, leaving him will hurt him. It feels like I’m abandoning him when he still needs me. But I’m tired of pretending that what I feel for you is anything less than everything. And I can’t make apologies for finally choosing the one thing, the one person who feels like mine. Even if, to make my heart whole, I must break someone else’s.” It was the most honest I’d ever been with Brenton, with anyone, and it felt so freeing to let those words out. My absolute truths. We both needed to hear them.
The muscles in Brenton’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t speak. He simply stared at me, eyes wide and body turned, as if he werecaught between reaching for me and running from me. At his sides, he fisted his hands.
“Say something,” I whispered, my throat dry and tone tight. “Please.”
He took a single step toward me. Then another. Until the space between us disappeared, and all I felt was the warmth radiating from him.
“Finley.” My name came out like a rasp. A prayer. “Do you know what you do to me . . . hearing you say that?”
My lips parted, but when nothing came out, I shook my head.
His fingers brushed my cheek. “You say I ignite you, but you . . . you are the wildfires that live within me, the flames I run toward. Impossible to put out. You don’t simply undo me but consume me.”
And then, without uttering another word, he kissed me. There was no hesitation or slow buildup. It was simply his lips on mine. One hand at my waist, tugging me closer, and the other tangled in my hair.
And it was as if years of wanting in silence disappeared.
My lips moved with his, letting him guide me, and when he groaned, my confidence built. I fisted the front of his shirt, still wanting him impossibly closer. I poured everything into that kiss—our first kiss.
It was clumsy and desperate and real. Better than anything I’d ever dreamed of.
He groaned again, the sound deep and guttural. His hand slid from my waist to my lower back. Holding me as if I were the only thing keeping him upright.
He deepened the kiss, slowing it so it was less fire and more ache. This sense of helplessness climbed through me when he started to pull away. I clenched his shirt, pressing my lips tighter around his while I moved my hand to cup the back of his head.
Our tongues tangled and danced. A husky sound came from him, and I swallowed it, claiming that sexy, desperate sound as mine.
When he pressed his forehead to mine, our breaths twined together, fast and uneven and a little less broken, while his fingers skimmed down my arm, brushing over my bracelet before sliding it into my palm.
“Don’t turn away from me again,” he whispered. “I can’t—I won’t survive it.”
“I’m here,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He pressed his lips to mine, sucking on my bottom lip, taking my promise and making it his.
In that quiet breath between us, I knew the realms could crumble, our kingdom could burn, and I would still choose Brenton. I’d tear every existence apart before I ever let him go again.
