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“Stop,” he ordered.
“Then talk,” I commanded.
When I attempted to kick him again, and missed again, I screeched in outrage and settled for smacking his arm. The satisfying sting I felt against my palm as I made contact prompted me to hit him again, but he caught my hand the second time. Fingers latching around my wrist, he kept my arm held suspended above us.
When I saw the agony in his blue eyes, I stopped. “Beau?”
Sucking in a harsh breath, he swiped his thumb gently over the pulse beat on the inside of my wrist and stepped closer.
His expression turned pleading, but I wasn’t sure what he was asking for. I just knew his gaze caused this heated weight to settle low in my stomach, almost between my legs, and I felt my eyelashes waver as I swayed toward him.
His lips parted, and I could only watch, mesmerized, as he stepped even closer, dipped his face, and then pressed his mouth against mine.
Stunned, stupefied, and completely overwhelmed, I just stood there, compliantly still, as he let go of my arm so he could cup my cheeks in his hands and angle my face up to meet him better. As his lips softened, his grip tightened and his palms shifted into my hair so he could fist the locks passionately. I clutched the front of his shirt, not sure if I was trying to keep him from coming closer or make sure he didn’t move away again.
I just knew I started to kiss him back at some point, and all I could seem to know in that moment was Beau. His heartbeat. His warmth.
His true feelings.
When I felt his tongue against my lips, seeking entrance, surprise had me jerking back and gasping.
He sucked in a breath and blinked his eyes open before focusing on me. And when he did, his face drained of all color while his eyes dilated with shock.
“Oh, fuck,” he breathed, gaping in horror.
He stumbled a step back. And the next thing I knew, he was scrambling from his own room as fast as he could go, completely abandoning me there by myself.
“Beau!” I cried in su
rprise, but nothing short of the hand of God was going to stop him.
I probably stood there for five minutes, trying to figure out what had just happened before I left his room too. Then I walked down the hall in a daze, lifting the tips of my trembling fingers to my tingling lips as I went.
When I made it to the front room, his parents were still there, but they were no longer cuddling on the chair as intimately as they had been before.
They both looked concerned as they watched me.
I dropped my hand from my mouth and rasped from a strangely hoarse voice, “Is he gone?”
Uncle Noel nodded. “He lit out of here like his tail was on fire a few minutes ago.” Then he squinted his eyes at me and asked, “You okay, kiddo?”
I immediately bobbed my head. “Yes. Definitely. I’m f-fine.” But my voice broke on the last word and a little hiccup got caught in my chest.
Aunt Aspen immediately started toward me. “Hey, why don’t I make you a warm drink before you go? It’s chilly out tonight.”
She’d already taken my shoulders in a gentle, motherly grip and turned me toward the kitchen by the time I got around to answering, “O-okay.”
She sat me at the table, and I just stayed there, remembering everything that had happened in Beau’s room.
When she sat across from me and slid a steaming mug before me, I blinked down at it, thinking that hadn’t taken long. Or maybe it had taken the normal amount of time and I had checked out from reality worse than I had thought I had.
Picking up the cup, I took an automatic sip.
“Oh, Bentley,” Aunt Aspen cooed, shaking her head sadly. And it suddenly felt wrong to think of her as Aunt Aspen, anymore, now that I had kissed her son. “You look absolutely miserable right now.”
I sighed and scrubbed my face. “I just don’t understand him. I mean, I know he’s not a bad guy. I know that. I’ve seen him be perfectly nice to other people. To everyone else. It’s just me he picks on.”
Aspen chewed on the corner of her lip as if trying to control her expression. Then she glanced into the depths of her own cup before saying, “Why do you think that is?”
