Page 58 of Beat of Love
If he walked far enough into the dark, maybe the questions wouldn’t find him.
*
Brandy-Lyn heard the stomp of booted feet before he burst from the small grove of trees. Even the dark could not mask the desperate look on his face.
“Rafferty?”
He stuttered to a halt, and his head swung toward her. He blinked, repeatedly, but his eyes remained unfocused, his gaze wild.
Frantic, even.
Like a caged animal, his head moved from side to side, looking for an escape.
Brandy surged to her feet, setting the swing into motion. The blanket fell to the ground and wine spilled from the glass as she set it down, but she ignored both, intent on reaching the agitated man before he took off. She skipped down the steps, stopped before him, and stretched her arm out.
“Hey,” she whispered, placing her hand on his chest. He flinched, but she kept it in place. His heart thumped hard beneath her palm. She took hold of his upper arm with her free hand and nudged him toward the steps. “Come sit with me for a while.”
She led him toward the bench she’d just vacated. With soothing murmurs reserved for her horses, she coaxed him down onto the thick cushions, setting the swing in motion. Only once he was fully seated did she let go and sit beside him. He leaned back and let out a long and mournful sigh before closing his eyes. The movement of him rubbing his palms over his denim-covered thighs drew her gaze, and without hesitation she covered his nearest hand with hers. To her surprise, he twisted his wrist and threaded his fingers through hers.
He remained silent. To prevent herself from asking a million questions, she focused her mind on the vibrant insect nightlife, the squeak of the thick rope chafing against the wood as the swing oscillated, its motion slowing, slowing, until it finally stopped.
The ragged breathing of the man beside her evened out, becoming deep and rhythmic.
Had he fallen asleep?
She twisted her head to look at him.
*
Rafferty inhaled a lungful of air. With it came the scent of woman, something floral with an undertone of leather and horse. Brandy-Lyn’s scent. A comforting scent. Familiar even. For the first time in days, a sense of calmness took hold within him, the heavy pressure hovering over him for the last while easing. He concentrated on his ribs expanding to accommodate the deep breath and then let it out.
Brandy-Lyn shifted, and he opened his eyes and turned to look at her. Dark pools of green stared back in earnest.
“Hey,” he whispered.
A soft smile curved her luscious lips. “Feel … easier?” Her voice was husky. All sultry and seductive. Her hair spilled over her shoulders, a fall of deep copper.
And he had to kiss her. Taste her. Now.
It was a compulsion he could no longer ignore.
He turned to face her fully, his hand sliding up to cradle her neck. “I’m going to kiss you now, Red,” he said, voice rough with need.
Her eyes flared, the rapid thrum of her pulse beneath his palm echoing his own pounding heartbeat. “Probably not a good idea,” she whispered, voice low and unsteady.
Their noses touched.
“Stop me.”
“No.”
He caught the breath that escaped from between those irresistible lips, then closed the minuscule distance.
Ah, her lips …
Soft and warm, yielding beneath the firm press of his.
Finally.
