Veronica Rossi: Brooke

Hayden gazes across the distance. “The wind is dying down. The fires will burn out soon. We’ll be able to get back by morning at the latest.”

That sounds overly optimistic, but I don’t say anything.

Hayden finds a smooth rock to perch on. “Come on. There’s room for you.”

“I’m fine,” I say reflexively.

After pacing around for five minutes, I realize he’s chosen the only spot on this craggy hill that’s halfway comfortable, but I’ve already made up my mind.

I plop down on the dirt a few paces away from him. A sharp rock pokes into my backside. I am cold, tired, and wet—and I smell like a chimney—but that rock is what pushes a string of curses out of me.

“Everything all right?” Hayden asks.

I can tell he’s trying not to laugh.

“Wonderful. How’s your throne?”

“Couldn’t be better.” A pause. “You’d be more comfortable over here, Brooke. And warmer.”

“ Warmer? You want me to warm up with you? Do you really think I’m that gullible?”

“I was trying to be practical, but suit yourself. I have to admit, though, I’m flattered you don’t trust yourself around me.”

I snort and pick up a pebble to throw at him. My arm stops mid-throw.

Because of the natural curve in the rock he’s chosen, Hayden is leaning back, half-reclined. It’s a casual, relaxed pose. Comfortable. And I suddenly don’t know why I’m here in the dirt, when I could be there.

I hop to my feet and stalk over to him. “I will punch you if you touch me,” I say, sitting beside him.

“You have nothing to worry about. I’m no poacher.”

My heart stops for two full seconds. Hayden is watching my reaction, and I can tell he’s been waiting to say this for hours. Maybe since we left the cave.

“What did you just say?”

“I would never overstep. Especially since he’s my brother.”

“Hyde told you?”

Hayden shakes his head, his grin huge. “Hyde would never talk. I had a feeling, based on the smile that hasn’t left his face since you two came back this morning.”

“You and your stupid feelings! It was just a kiss!” It streaks me that I’m even explaining myself. I smack him on the shoulder. “I can kiss whoever I want.”

Hayden’s hands come up in defense as he laughs. “Of course you can, but that’s beside the point. All I meant to say is that I’m not interested”—he gestures at the space between us—“so we’ll be fine here.”

In an elaborate display of nonchalance, he crosses his arms behind his head and leans back like he’s basking in the sun. The smug smile on his mouth makes my blood boil, but I’m determined to play this the right way.

I lean back too, pretending I’m as comfortable as can be in my clammy, smoky clothes. As the minutes drag by, I can tell Hayden is disappointed I didn’t react to his comment.

“I told you not to lie to me,” I say, after five full minutes have passed.

He peers at me. “When did I lie?”

“Just now. You said you’re not interested, but that’s not true. I’ve seen you watch me.”

“Can’t I look at you?”

“Of course you can. It’s just the way you look at me that’s telling.”

“And how is that?”

“You do this thing with your mouth.”

“I do a thing?”

“Yes. You pout.”

Hayden throws his head back and laughs. “I pout at you?”

“Yes. You do.”

It’s actually not a pout, but that’s the only word I can come up with. Occasionally, like just a short while ago, his lips relax in a very appealing, sultry way that is close to a pout, but not a pout.

“Well,” he says. “Don’t let my pout scare you. I promise you’re safe at my side. You and I would never work.”

“You just said that so I’d ask why.”

“ You just said that because you’re avoiding asking why.”

“Fine. Why, Hayden? Why are you so sure we’d never work?”

“Aside from the reason I mentioned earlier?”

“Yes. Aside from that.”

“There’s no spark between us.”

I glare at him. Does this boy ever say anything direct? Does he never say what he actually means?

Turning my focus out over the hills, I consider the situation. He has done this on purpose, of course. To make me wonder if there might be a spark between us. The problem is that even though I see his trickery, I actually am wondering.

My heart is thumping, and I’m suddenly aware of just how close he is.

I have always found him attractive. Handsome in a grown, mature way. I’m not the only one who thinks so. I’ve heard women in the tribe talk about his smile on more than one occasion.

My move on plan didn’t work with Hyde. How could it, when I saw hope in his eyes? Hope that I didn’t feel myself? I won’t use someone else just to make myself feel better. I like Hyde too much. But Hayden?

I look at him, a little ripple of excitement moving through me as I find him watching me. In his eyes I don’t see hope. All I see is humor—and heat. And those soft-looking lips . . . I really would like to kiss him.

“There’s only one way to find out,” I say, before I can stop myself. “And you did offer to warm me up.”

Hayden’s eyes narrow slightly. “Brooke . . . you’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

His hand comes up, and he runs his fingers along my cheek. I jump a little, but he doesn’t. His fingers are steady on my skin. Steady as they trace my neck and then run across my collarbone. His eyes are sensual and dark as they follow the path of his touch. His mouth relaxes, and there it is. That sultry pout.

I expected a kiss. That’s not what’s happening, and it’s thrilling.

He looks into my eyes, his gaze so dark and hungry that it takes everything in me not to shiver. Then he bends toward me, and his lips close over mine, the pressure soft but sure. I kiss him back, and Hayden moves in, his tongue sweeping against mine, and a single thought explodes in my mind: Hayden knows what he’s doing.

He sets an immediate tone, kissing me with confidence, and it feels achingly good, achingly familiar. I twist my hands into his hair and kiss him deeply, and hear him groan.

“Brooke,” he whispers, “easy.” But everything he’s doing contradicts that. His hand grips my thigh, so tight that I feel the pressure of every finger.

I move closer to him. He moves at the same time, and with all the moving that’s happening we end up lying on our sides, face-to-face. Together we are tumbling down a hillside of desire, and it feels safe. So safe not to care. This is only about lips and hands and skin. Swirling, smoky desires that are swallowing me up.

Hayden’s hand rolls up my ribs and brushes over my breast, sending a wave of desire through me. But after a few moments he surprises me by drawing away. “Brooke, there’s definitely a spark here. We might actually catch fire if we don’t—”

“Shhh . . . This is more fun when you don’t talk.”

His laugh is a short, clipped sound. “Fun?”

“Yes. Fun.”

I pull him to me again. He rolls on top of me, and then I roll on top of him, and it’s like a little battle in the midst of our kisses, our legs tangling up.

My hand finds his shirt, slipping over the rolling muscles in his stomach. He makes a hissing sound and darts away. “All right,” he says. “That was good.”

I don’t know what just happened. I don’t know why he pulled away. “It was better than good , Hayden.”

He mutters a curse and sits forward over his knees. “Brooke, just . . . give me a minute here.”

There’s only one reason he could have stopped. I can’t let that get in the way. “Hayden, what happened with Hyde was . . .” I don’t know how to finish my thought.