Page 54 of Branded Betrayal

Blaze’s lips part like he wants to say something, but then they snap back together.

“What? Please tell me what big, bad dangers are lurking out there, Blaze. Please tell me why you can’t ever let me in, why you won’t ever level with me?”

His jaw tenses as he rakes a hand through his dark hair. “I can’t help it,” he finally says. “You’re out here, on your own, trying to spin shit into gold with Red Rock, and I just . . . I don’t want anyone to take advantage of that.”

I raise an eyebrow and fold my arms over my head. “Like Tyler.”

His lips twist. “Yeah, like him. And the other thugs from the bar. Anyone who fucking comes close to you.”

I sway in closer, my voice dropping, my pulse making my words wobble. “It’s not up to you to decide who gets close to me and who doesn’t.”

“The fuck it isn’t.” He closes the distance between us, his body practically caging me in against the wall. The air between us thick and heavy.

“It’s not your choice.”

“Is that what you came here to tell me?”

I stare up into his caramel-colored eyes, losing my train of thought as I’m captured by those golden pools. The longer I look, the more I risk drowning with no hope for a lifeline.

“Yes . . .” My head falls back against the wall as he dips his head.

“Good. Now go before I do something we both regret.”

A gasp knots in my throat. Then anger floods my insides. I slam the plastic container on the floor at his feet. “Here you go, asshole. I hope you choke on them.”

I turn on my boot heel, but it gets stuck in a groove.

Shit, not again.

I pitch forward, a yelp catching in my throat. Before I hit the ground, Blaze loops an arm around my waist and hauls me back against the wall.

“I hate you,” I breathe even as my fingers curl around his shirt.

“I know.” His hand slides into my hair, gripping it tight. “But you still want me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Say it like you mean it,” he growls.

I shove him hard, and he lets me. But when I try to twist away, he catches me in his arms and pulls me close.

“You don’t get to do this,” I say, my voice shaking.

“I know,” he says, staring down at me. “I don’t deserve you. I never did. But fuck, Savannah—”

And before he can say another word, he crushes his lips against mine. His demanding hands are everywhere, sliding over my hips, grasping my ass, fisting my hair. They’re not gentle or tentative like they were when we were both kids trying to figure things out.

He knows exactly what he wants, and he’s taking it.

Then I’m suddenly in his arms. I wrap my legs around his waist as he hugs me tight to his chest. He devours me with a voracity that makes my panties melt, his tongue hot and hungry, coiling with mine. He kisses me like he’s trying to erase every day we spent apart. We claw at each other with a latent desperation that years apart haven’t done a bit to quell.

And I kiss him back just as hard. Not because I forgive him, but because my body remembers his even if my heart is trying to forget.

His erection is thick, pressing against me. I drag my fingers through his hair, breathless and euphoric. Then he pulls away, my lips immediately feeling the loss of him.

He slowly lowers my body to the ground. We stare at each other, wordless and panting, the knowledge that we just crossed a very dangerous line for the second time flaring bright.

“This can’t happen,” he says gruffly, taking a few steps away from me.