Page 58 of Branded Hearts

“Hey,” I say, my voice lower than I intended.

“Hey,” she replies, almost in a whisper.

I step closer, the beers forgotten on the counter. “You know, since yesterday...”

“I know,” she interrupts, surprising me with her preemptive understanding. She feels it, too.

The light filtering in from outside catches on her face, illuminating those brown irises with golden specks. They’re captivating. Beautiful.

She is beautiful.Fucking hell.

“I can’t stop thinking about... about how you kissed me,” she says innocently, her fingers moving to touch her lips. My gaze drops to her mouth, and I watch as she rolls them inward, making them slightly parted and glistening under the light.

The sight sends a jolt through me; fuck, I want to kiss her.

“Me, too,” I respond, my voice gravelly and low. Amelia bites her lip, a simple gesture that sends a thrill down my spine.

“What do we do?” she asks, barely audible over the pounding of my heart.

“I don’t know,” I whisper, unable to resist the magnetic pull between us. “But I do know I want to kiss you again.”

Closing the distance between us, I press my lips to hers.

My senses are immediately overwhelmed by the feel of her hands on my chest, fingers gripping into the fabric of my shirt. With one hand firmly on her waist and the other tangled in her hair, I pull her closer to me, unable to resist the magnetic pull between us. She gasps against my lips, and her breath becomes shallow and rapid as I tug on her hair gently, eliciting a gasp from her.

I feel myself getting lost in her—her touch, her taste, her scent. It’s like nothing else exists in that moment except for the two of us. Her tongue is soft and warm on mine, dancing in a silent, tantalising rhythm that sets my senses ablaze.

Fuck, despite her never having kissed anyone before, she’s a fucking natural.

But then, a small sound escapes her lips, breaking the spell and reminding me of where we are. Reluctantly, I break away from her embrace, feeling the cold air hit my skin as I step back.

“Fuck,” I rasp, my voice rough as I step away. “I’m sorry, I should have asked first.”

“It’s okay,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t be sorry.”

But is it really?I can feel the tension between us, the hesitation in her touch. Yet, there’s something else there, too—a spark thatignites with every brush of our skin. She reaches out for my hand, her touch grounding me in the reality of the moment. I look into her eyes, searching for any sign of regret or discomfort, but all I find is a raw honesty that mirrors my own feelings. The air crackles with unspoken words as we stand there.

“We should probably head back outside,” I say, my voice more steady than I feel.

“Yeah, you’re right.” She sounds disappointed as she turns to leave, and I let her pass. She grabs Isla’s phone from the kitchen bench before walking back outside. As I watch her leave, a whirlwind of emotions swirls within me. Regret, desire, uncertainty—all battling for dominance in my mind. I know I should follow her, rejoin the group outside, but my feet remain rooted to the spot. Their laughter and music drift in from the balcony, starkly contrasting with the heaviness in the air around me.

“Hey, Amelia, have you seen Bradley? Did he get lost?” Michael’s voice cuts through the evening air, followed by Harrison’s teasing tone.

“Yeah, and where are our beers? He left us high and dry!”

Well, that’s the cue I need. I completely forgot about those damn beers. Seems like I’ve developed a habit of that whenever she’s around.

Forgetting shit.

I force my legs to move, shaking off the haze of conflicting emotions clouding my head. Grabbing the three beers, I stride outside.

“Did you get lost, Bradley? We were about to send out a searchparty.” Michael looks at me with raised eyebrows.

“Got a call from work. Sorry,” I lie smoothly, handing out the beers before settling next to Liv, who eyes me curiously. I shoot her a glare, silently warning her to mind her own damn business.

Amelia is already seated next to Liv, sipping wine. Despite my best efforts to avoid her gaze, I can’t help but feel drawn to her. It’s fucked up how much I want her. The way she looks at me, the way she makes me feel—it’s like nothing else matters.

I wrestle with the urge to act on it, knowing I should keep my distance.

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