Page 2 of Dirty Little Mistake

Flipping off the blanket, I crawled out of bed and strolled onto the terrace, carefully closing the doors behind me.

Moonlight painted silver edges on the wrought iron railing, and the distant hum of crickets filled the silent night. A cool breeze gusted through the oak trees, sending goosebumps racing across my bare arms.

"Cold?"

His voice cut through the darkness, sending my heart into my throat. My fingers dug into the front of my shirt as I stumbled back, the porch railing catching me before my wobbly kneescould give out. The beer I'd had earlier churned in my stomach, mixing with the surge of adrenaline.

It was Trystan, sitting on the edge of a chair on his side of the terrace.

The smoke from his joint curled around him like he was some kind of dark angel, catching on the sharp line of his jaw before disappearing into the night air. His tattoos shifted with each movement, black ink flowing over lean muscle, disappearing beneath the edge of his shirt. When he looked up, those ice-blue eyes caught the moonlight, and my breath hitched.

"Uh, no, I'm okay."

His gaze traced a slow path from my bare feet up to my face, lingering at my collarbone, the weight of his attention like a physical touch. The pad of his thumb dragged across his jaw - a gesture I'd watched a hundred times, always followed by some decision. Tonight, though, there was something different in the way he looked at me: less brotherly, more predatory. Time stretched between us as he considered his next move.

"Want a hit?" He held his joint out to me.

I played coy on the outside, but my insides were screaming like a fourteen-year-old girl who'd just been invited out on a date with the boy of her dreams.

"Uh, yeah." I took a step forward.

He kicked the chair next to him with his long legs, and I dropped into it before taking the blunt.

"Happy Birthday," he whispered. "Sorry I didn't make it back for your party."

"No biggie." I shrugged, pressing the blunt between my lips and drawing in a deep breath before slowly exhaling. "Were you out with your girlfriend?"

I knew Trystan didn't have girlfriends, I was baiting him. I knew he had groupies and lots of them. He was the lead singer of his band, Rage Nation.

"I don't have a girlfriend." With a cocky grin, his gaze shifted to me as the tip of his tongue slipped out, tracing over the sensual curve of his full lips. My breath hitched as my gaze collided with his, and it was suddenly hard to breathe.

The way his blue eyes traced over my lips, I thought he might be thinking about kissing me, but I must have been high. He averted his gaze quickly, and I took another drag off the joint before handing it back to him.

Pushing to my feet, I twisted to lean against the terrace railing.

"Did you blow out your candle and make a birthday wish?" The hint of seduction in his tone made my skin heat.

I shook my head. "No."

He raised his brows as he pushed to his feet and stepped into my personal space. "Everyone should make a birthday wish." He reached into the pockets of his black jeans, pulled out a lighter, and flicked it, making the flame flicker. "Make a wish, birthday girl."

My gaze shifted from him to the flame. There was only one thing I wanted right now. I closed my eyes.

I wish Trystan would kiss me.

Opening my eyes, I blew out the flame, and my gaze blinked up to him.

"What did you wish for?" The lighter disappeared into his pocket, but the heat in his eyes remained.

"If I tell you..." I ran my finger along the railing, drawing invisible patterns. "It might not come true."

His hands found the railing on either side of me, each movement as deliberate as a hunter stalking prey.

He leaned down with deliberate slowness, close enough that I caught the faint scent of smoke and something familiarly him, far enough that the inches between us crackled with possibility. His breath ghosted across my cheek as he spoke, voice droppingto a dangerous whisper. “Sometimes,” - a pause, heavy with intent - “saying it out loud is the only way to make it real.” The words vibrated through the small space between us, and I watched his lips shape each syllable, wondering if they'd feel as soft as they looked.

The confidence in his voice said he already knew what my wish was.

I drew in a breath as my heart pounded wildly. This was it. My moment. I could tell him, and it could go one of two ways, but either way, it was now or never.

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