Page 62 of Fragile Heart

“Thank you,” she murmurs, no more than a breath of air between us.

I close my eyes and force a swallow, trying to dislodge the lump in my throat. She sighs and turns, taking a step away from me, stirring the air between us. I’m expecting her scent but instead I get Caleb’s cinnamon.

Something in me snaps.

I grab her hand, forcing her still. When I manage to open my eyes, her gaze is wide. Her cheeks and chest are flushed, and her pulse flutters in her throat. And still, all I can smell is cinnamon.

I should say something, should explain the absolute mess she’s made of me the last month. The words don’t come. Instead, I crowd into her, stealing the careful foot of space she’s kept between us. Like we’re fucking strangers. Like I’ve never felt the way her body clenches around my knot, like I’ve never heard theway she whines when she’s on the crest of her orgasm, like I’ve never seen the way her hair sprawls out on a mattress as she gets eaten out.

Mint surrounds us, strong and fast and undeniable.

She sucks in a startled breath. Her eyes drop to my mouth for a heartbeat. Her lips fall open, but I don’t let her say a word.

I slam my mouth on hers, forcing the kiss hard and deep, trying to cover every single speck of Caleb’s scent that clings to her shirt like they’ve spent the last half hour twisted together on the shore of the lake. Maybe they have.

The thought has a jealous rage rushing through me. I bury my hand into her hair and twist us, crowding her against the table. She goes boneless against me, her curves molding to the hard lines of my body. Lavender bleeds out from her, not nearly strong enough to appease the aching need that’s dug itself into my bones.

She whines, and I tighten my hold in her hair. Her nails dig into my stomach, and the touch is so familiar, so second-nature, that the decade between us falls away. I’m just the dumbass twenty-two year old who was convinced a long-distance relationship was an idiot’s move.

Her little sounds grow more desperate. I loop an arm around her waist and lift her onto the table, pushing the first aid kit out of the way. Her knees bracket my hips with the same intimacy, and I groan.

“Ethan,” she whispers against my lips.

Fuck, how many years did I dream of that? Of the way her voice grows breathless when she’s so damn desperate? I soak it in, letting it soothe the need. I tilt her head and kiss her again, pressing my hips into hers so she can feel exactly what she’s been doing to me the last damn month.

A girl’s laugh cuts through the haze of lust. Brielle freezes for an endless moment. And then she pulls away, dropping herhands from my stomach and scooting far enough back on the table that she can close her legs. Her chest heaves even as she looks over her shoulder. I take a step away from the table and run a hand over my mouth.

Faedra’s eyes are wide. The little girl that holds her hand is stoic, her blue eyes seeing right through me. She tilts her head, a line appearing between her eyes as she frowns.

“Oh my god,” Faedra says. “I’m so sorry, Bri.”

Brielle doesn’t say anything as she ducks her head.

“Is she like you, Momma?” the girl asks. “She has two Alphas?”

Faedra blushes but doesn’t answer her daughter’s questions. The silence extends into being uncomfortable. Faedra clears her throat.

“The girls got hungry. Everyone else will be here in a few minutes,” Faedra says.

Without a word to either of them, I put the second round of patties on the grill.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

BRIELLE

The campsite is quiet when I wake up.

Melissa is asleep on the other side of the tent, a careful two feet of open space separating our sleeping bags. I ease out of my own setup as quietly as possible, sliding into a new set of jeans and my favorite oversized tee—and the new scent blockers Faedra brought from Denver. I’m two seconds from leaving the tent entirely when my skin itches enough I practically groan.

With a muttered curse, I grab Caleb’s too-large hoodie and pull it on. His scent drowns me in a matter of heartbeats.

The restless need settles.

Damn, I thought the touch-starvation would be getting better by now. Maybe a walk will help. At least my scent doesn’t carry the acidic edge anymore. As I step out of the tent and start across the campsite, Jude looks up from his perch near the center, a small mug in his hand.

I offer a half-hearted smile.

Faedra steps off the trail leading to the cars, her gaze lighting on me before focusing on Jude. They exchange one of those looks that speak a thousand words. I cross the campsite, leaving them to it. If I don’t start walking right this moment, I’m going to embarrass myself by trying to crawl into Caleb’s sleeping bag. Or maybe Ethan’s.

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