Page 73 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
I want to let myselffeelwithout worrying about the consequences.
I shift and lean into Brody, and his arms wrap around me, tugging me close. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes, but his hands never stop moving, tracing feather-light circles on my back. I don’t know if he actually sleeps, but by the time we make it to Triple Mountain, fire is pumping through my veins. I am aware of Brody’s every movement as he helps unload the kayaks and the rest of the gear. As he shifts his own kayak from Griffin’s trailer over to the back of his truck. As he says goodbye to his friends, bro hugs and back slapping all around. Soon, he’s driving me home, the air so thick with crackling tension, there’s no way he doesn’t feel it too.
When he pulls into my driveway, he just sits there, his hands gripping the steering wheel like it’s holding him up.
I swallow the ball of nerves pulsing in the back of my throat. “Walk me to my door?”
He closes his eyes, and his jaw tenses, and I almost regret asking. But then he cuts the engine and climbs out. I sit still long enough for him to make it around the truck and open my door for me. I don’t expect him to. Normally, I’m out as quickly as he is. But my heart is pounding in my ears, my skin prickling with anticipation, and it’s making my movements slow and unsteady.
I climb out of the truck, and we walk side by side up to the porch. I’m halfway up the steps, my keys in my hand, when I realize Brody stopped at the bottom. The evening light is fading fast, and his face is shadowed, so I can’t quite make out his expression. “Do you...want to come in?”
He lifts his eyes to mine, desire flashing behind them before he runs a hand across his face and sighs. “Are you sure this is what you want, Kate?”
I know what he’s asking. I was the one that, only a week ago, said I shouldn’t have kissed him because Ididn’tknow what I want.
I drop back down a few steps so we’re only one stair apart, bringing us eye-level. “I’m tired of resisting, Brody. I’m tired of worrying about our friendship. I’m—”
He lifts a hand to my cheek, his thumb tracing a line over the edge of my bottom lip.
My eyes drift closed.
“Then stop,” he says. “Let’s stop worrying and see what happens.” He leans forward, the tip of his nose brushing against mine. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”
His words sound like a prayer, and they fill me like one, curling into every corner of my heart.
He kisses me softly at first, the pressure light, but that’s all it takes for me to explode with desire. Goose bumps break out across my skin, and heat flows through my veins as my hands lift to his chest. He is warm and solid under my palms, his pulse pounding against my fingers. His free hand wraps around my waist and pulls me closer as he brushes his tongue along my bottom lip. It’s an invitation, and one I willingly accept as I tilt my head to deepen the kiss.
Somewhere in the distance, July fourth fireworks explode into the night sky, the sound bouncing across the mountains until it reaches us. I have been kissed in a lot of different cities by a lot of different men. But I have never been kissed like this. Soon, even the fireworks fade into silence. I only hear Brody. My name on his lips, his breath as it skates across my skin. I drop my hands to his waist, sliding my fingers under his t-shirt and pressing them against the warm skin at the small of his back. His muscles tense under my touch, and he pulls me even closer.
Slowly, we stumble up the stairs, still kissing as I scramble to get my keys into the front door. I drop them and they clink ontothe wooden slats of the porch, but I don’t even care. We are wedged in between the storm door and the heavy wooden front door, and I’ll happily stay here forever, pinned against the wood with Brody’s big body hovering over me.
I watched him do incredible things today. Marveled at his strength, his control, his bravery. And now my hands are on him, sliding over those same muscles, feeling them flex under my touch.
A pulse of desire roars through me, quieting just slightly when Brody breaks the kiss and takes a step back, his hands resting on his hips as his breath comes in ragged gulps. He stands there a good ten seconds before he comes back and bends to retrieve the keys.
He unlocks the door, leaving the keys dangling in the lock while he places his hands on either side of me, just above my shoulders. “I’m only going to kiss you tonight, Kate,” he says gently. “I need you to know that.” He closes his eyes for a beat and takes another steadying breath. “And I need you to not ask me for more.”
I nod, warm relief unfurling in my chest. I wouldn’t have asked.But I’m not sure I would have been able to stop, either. Not ifmorewas what he wanted.
We might survive the uncertainty of a kiss. Even a thousand kisses. But more than that?No.There would be no coming back from that. Not unless we’re ready to make a commitment. Unless we know there will never be anyone else.
Brody pushes the door open, and I intertwine my fingers with his, leading him into the living room where we drop our hands so we can both slip off our shoes. He places my keys onto the coffee table, then moves toward me with the grace of a giant jungle cat, agile and smooth. His hands cradle either side of my face, and he kisses me again.
The potency of the attraction that overwhelmed us on the front porch has dimmed to something more tender, but it is no less intoxicating. He sinks onto the couch, pulling me down beside him, his movements measured and intentional. There is nothing frenzied about his kisses, and I recognize this as his way of maintaining control. Of heeding the boundary he’s drawn for himself.
My respect for him only grows, tugging my attraction right along with it. Minutes or maybe hours pass. I have no sense of time when I’m in his arms, only a desire to freeze it. To suspend the two of us in this moment forever.
The old mantel clock that sits above Grandma’s fireplace sounds the hour, and I count the chimes, my head resting on Brody’s chest. He’s fully reclined on the couch now, a throw pillow behind his head, and I’m leaning into his arms, wedged in between him and the back of the couch. “It’s midnight,” I say softly.
His hand brushes up and down my arm. “I could sleep here,” he says lazily. And I hope he does. A part of me senses the magic of whatever is happening will diminish in the daylight, taking us back to a reality full of jobs and families and uncertainty. But I won’t dwell on that now. Right now, there is only us. And it’s enough.
I lift my head up and prop my chin on Brody’s chest, my arms tightening around his waist. “Can I ask you a question?”
His eyes flutter open. “Sure.”
“Had you ever thought about kissing me before tonight?”
His hands have been tracing slow circles on my back and they still at my question, his body tensing under me. He is silent so long, I start to think he isn’t going to respond. But then he leans up and presses his lips to mine. The yearning in his kiss is so potent, so charged, it nearly takes my breath away. At first, I think it’s the only answer he’s going to give me. But then hecloses his eyes again and folds his hand over mine, pressing my palm to his chest just above his heart. “Every day, Kate,” he whispers. “I’ve thought about kissing you every day.”
