Page 28 of Becoming Brandy

Brandy stared up at him with cold eyes. “Why are you so mad at me? What did I do to you?”

He flashed her a dark look, but then his eyes landed on her bloody hand. Sitting beside her, he ripped off one of his sleeves, took her injured palm, and began wrapping it up. “What would the others say if I brought you back, all banged up? Are you trying to get me in trouble?” But his voice had lost its edge. And his touch was gentle. He wrapped the fabric around, securing it with a knot on the back of her hand.

“You ripped your shirt,” she said, pointing to his now-bare arm that showed off his tattoos.

He shrugged, reached over, and ripped off the other sleeve so both sides matched.

She held her palm like a broken thing. Together, they sat and stared over the valley.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said.

He turned to her, dark eyes softer now. His nearly black hair fell into his eyes, and he tossed his head to clear it away. “What was it again?”

“Why are you mad at me?”

He blew a breath through his nose, turning back to the valley. “I’m not mad at you.”

“They why do you act so… mean?”

“It’s part of my magnetic personality,” he said dryly.

“Sometimes you’re sarcastic, but you aren’t always mean. Lately… I don’t know. It’s like you can’t stand the sight of me. Why even come and take me on this hike if you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you.” His eyes traced the lines of her face. It was like her words had broken a wall and she was seeing inside. And he was a person she thought she would really like.

“Brandy, my brothers are idiots. They drive me crazy. And you don’t. I like being around you. And then I have to see them put their hands on you…” His own hands squeezed into fists.

“Sibling rivalry? Your brother is playing with your favorite toy?” She raised an eyebrow.

Anger flashed across his face. “When I see them touch you, it makes me want to rip their arms off.”

She put her hand on his forearm, the lightest of caresses like she might touch a wounded animal. “If you had just told me, it would have made all this much easier.”

“How? Now we’re all in some competition to see who can mate with you. I don’t think I can stand it. I might have to bow out.”

She frowned, staring deeper into his eyes. “You like me so much you don’t ever want to see me again? How does that make any sense?”

“I can’t stand it. I want it to be me touching you. Me kissing you.”

She didn’t realize how close their bodies were until he was nearly on top of her. The smell of his mouth triggered the memory of them on the floor, writhing together in ecstasy. She wanted that again. Wanted him again. Her eyes flicked up, and she knew he knew what she wanted.

Reaching out, he brushed the hair from her neck. Fingers grazed the skin of her collarbone, the faintest brush, but enough to start a tingle that radiated across her skin and down her chest.

“Did Drake… touch you?” he asked, staring intently into her eyes.

She shook her head.

He leaned closer. His dark hair fell over his eyes as he stared at her. “Did Wrek?”

“Not really.”

“Only me?” he asked. This time, his fingers trailed down her arm, touching her skin oh so lightly. The touch was almost nothing. Yet, it caused her body to come alive, nerve sensors awakening and wanting more.

“Only you,” she whispered, focusing on those lips again. She remembered them on her. Remembered the passion, bucking against him, wanting to ride him for eternity.

His head tilted the slightest bit as he studied her mouth. The hand that had been touching her arm reached out. When his thumb settled on her bottom lip, rubbing against it, she felt tingles much lower.

“I want this mouth to be mine,” he said, staring at it. “Tell me it’s mine.”

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