I expected a kiss. That’s not what’s happening, and it’s thrilling.
He looks into my eyes, his gaze so dark and hungry that it takes everything in me not to shiver. Then he bends toward me, and his lips close over mine, the pressure soft but sure. I kiss him back, and Hayden moves in, his tongue sweeping against mine, and a single thought explodes in my mind: Hayden knows what he’s doing.
He sets an immediate tone, kissing me with confidence, and it feels achingly good, achingly familiar. I twist my hands into his hair and kiss him deeply, and hear him groan.
“Brooke,” he whispers, “easy.” But everything he’s doing contradicts that. His hand grips my thigh, so tight that I feel the pressure of every finger.
I move closer to him. He moves at the same time, and with all the moving that’s happening we end up lying on our sides, face-to-face. Together we are tumbling down a hillside of desire, and it feels safe. So safe not to care. This is only about lips and hands and skin. Swirling, smoky desires that are swallowing me up.
Hayden’s hand rolls up my ribs and brushes over my breast, sending a wave of desire through me. But after a few moments he surprises me by drawing away. “Brooke, there’s definitely a spark here. We might actually catch fire if we don’t—”
“Shhh . . . This is more fun when you don’t talk.”
His laugh is a short, clipped sound. “Fun?”
“Yes. Fun.”
I pull him to me again. He rolls on top of me, and then I roll on top of him, and it’s like a little battle in the midst of our kisses, our legs tangling up.
My hand finds his shirt, slipping over the rolling muscles in his stomach. He makes a hissing sound and darts away. “All right,” he says. “That was good.”
I don’t know what just happened. I don’t know why he pulled away. “It was better than good, Hayden.”
He mutters a curse and sits forward over his knees. “Brooke, just . . . give me a minute here.”
There’s only one reason he could have stopped. I can’t let that get in the way. “Hayden, what happened with Hyde was . . .” I don’t know how to finish my thought.
What happened between Hyde and me was a beautiful, fragile thing. But it feels like talking about it with Hayden would be disrespectful.
“It’s not that.” He rubs his hands over his head and lets out a breath. “Though it should be.”
“Then what? Is it Perry? Because I’m not with him anymore.”
Hayden lifts his head. “No, Brooke. It’s you.”
This throws me. My cheeks warm. “What about me?” I ask, preparing to defend myself.
“You’re running, Brooke. It’s like we’re back in those woods. You’re sprinting through this, and I don’t think . . .” He sighs. “I just have this feeling you don’t really want to do this.”
“Are you really going to tell me what I want?”
“I’m only telling you what I think. But I would like to know: What do you want?”
What do I want? I have to think about it for a moment.
I want to feel wanted and cherished and safe.
I want to find someone who won’t trade me for another.
I want to find love that is visceral and life-sustaining.
All those answers seem a little inappropriate. So I say, “I want you to kiss me again. You’re good at it.”
Hayden gives me a look I’ve never seen before. Like he’s in pain and about to laugh at the same time. “If I do, you’ll hate me tomorrow.”
“You have it backward. I’ll hate you tomorrow if you don’t.”
“But I’ll hate myself, and that’s who I have to live with for the rest of my life.”
I don’t know why that makes me laugh, but it does.
Hayden smiles. It’s disarming, his full lips pulling into a wide grin. “I don’t want to start this the wrong way, Brooke.”
I’m not sure what the right way would be. He’s older, and surely he’s been with other women. Are there paths to love, to relationships, that are better than others? I don’t know. I only know the one I’ve taken.