Page 153 of Without a Trace
Long enough for Brielle to smirk and whisper something under her breath.
Then I stood.
Didn’t say a word.
Didn’t need to.
Rhett huffed. “And here we go.”
I followed.
The night was warm—too warm. The path dipped and narrowed, crushed shell and gravel crunching beneath my boots. I spotted her ahead, just past a bend, lit only by slats of moonlight slicing through palm leaves overhead. She wasn’t walking fast. Just fast enough to make me work for it.
I caught up to her near a clearing.
“You want company or am I just the poor bastard you hoped would take the hint?”
Scarlett didn’t stop walking, but her tone was pure tease. “Took you long enough.”
“I was trying to be polite.”
She glanced back over her shoulder, hair falling like a golden curtain against her bare back. “You’re terrible at polite.”
“Yeah?” I stepped closer, my hand brushing hers. “You knew I’d follow.”
“I was counting on it.”
We were off the path now, deep enough that the firelight from the villas barely touched the clearing. The only sound was the rustle of trees and the faint crash of waves on the shore below.
She finally stopped, spun to face me. “You ever feel like your blood’s not yours?”
The question hit harder than it should’ve. Her voice had dropped, suddenly serious, but her eyes were burning.
I took a step closer. “Every day since I met you.”
Scarlett tilted her head. “You gonna kiss me, Alden?”
“You planning on letting me?”
Her answer was a single step backward—her spine met the bark of a tree, and her chin lifted in a silent dare.
I didn’t answer with words.
I closed the distance in a blink, my hands bracing on either side of her head, body flush against hers. Her breath hitched. Mine was gone.
Scarlett kissed like she was claiming me.
I let her.
She tangled her fingers in my shirt, dragging me closer until there was nothing between us but friction and memory and need.
She broke the kiss only long enough to gasp, “Don’t you dare hold back.”
Her back hit the bark, and she pulled me in like gravity—hands in my hair, nails scraping my neck. She kissed like she was angry, like I’d made her wait too long.
Maybe I had.
I dragged my hand down her thigh, lifting until she hitched her leg around my waist. She didn't falter—just gripped tighter, mouth parting against mine as I pressed her harder into the tree. The rough bark scraped against her spine, and still, she didn’t flinch.
