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Then another.
Desire pools low in my belly—building, expanding, searing.
Statue of a perfect gentleman, Ben doesn’t move. But I feel him everywhere. Stuttered breaths on my lips. The undeniable buzz on my skin from the smallest contact. The blissful hum in my bloodstream that grows louder the closer I get.
I tilt my head and inch forward, my lips barely caressing his. A loudpopcomes from the fire and I jerk my head back. Reality backhands me as my eyes meet Ben’s hopeful stare.
Heart punching my chest, I scramble out of the chair and tug the blanket tighter around my body. Eyes on the stick Ben dropped, I mutter, “Breakfast is ready.” I nod as if needing to remind myself. “We should go in.”
Pivoting on my heel, I step toward the cabin. Ben stops me, his fingers clutching at the blanket.
“Kirsten, wait.”
“Ben, I…” Unsure what to say, I shake my head.
Heat blankets my back and I close my eyes, basking in his proximity, his energy, the way he makes me feel alive. He releases the blanket, his hand drifting lower to rest on my hip. Curling. Kneading. Holding me to him.
Th-thump, th-thump, th-thump.
My heart hammers in my chest. My breath caught in my throat. I will my muscles to move, will my body to step out of his hold, will my mind to make a damn decision and stick with it.
But with each ragged inhale, I sink farther into quicksand.
I can’t love them both. I’m not built for it. In the end, loving both of them will break us all. But how do I choose?
Lips on my hair and grazing my ear, he whispers, “Let melove you.”
God, how I want to let him. If only it were that easy.
“We should go in,” I choke out.
With one last knead of my hip, he releases his hold on me, and I deflate faster than a freed, untied balloon. Until he moves to my side and hooks an arm around my shoulders, fingers toying with my hair.
“Suddenly”—he angles closer, pressing his lips to my temple—“I’m famished.”
“All has been quiet here, sir.” Travis paces the length of the bookshelf, ear pressed to the landline receiver, shoulders back, and spine straight. Attention sharp, but gaze unfocused as he listens to his father update him on town news.
Since the almost-kiss with Ben this morning, all three of us have been on edge. The tension thicker than the chimney smoke.
Travis hasn’t mentioned seeing me come within a breath of kissing Ben. Nor has he been his usual grouchy or grabby self, demanding my attention. But I know he saw us. With a wall of windows facing the lawn, how did he not?
From the moment Ben and I walked in, Ben’s arm still around my shoulders, Travis has had this vacant expression. Even now—as I sit on the floor with Ben behind me, playing with my hair—not an ounce of emotion mars his features or distorts his frame.
For hours, I have waited for anger to flare and fists to fly. And for hours, I have been in this bizarre parallel universe. One where the guys don’t exchange insults or go toe-to-toe to claim my heart. Instead, Travis tucked my hair behind my ear and pressed a chaste kiss to my lips moments before Ben finger-combed my hair, then clumsily braided the thick strands.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the attention and easy affection. But it feels…wrong. Ambiguous. Shameful.
They both want me, my heart. With whispered words, subtle and not-so-subtle touches, and inescapable, soul-penetrating stares, they have both expressed their adoration.
But after seeing me outside with Ben, is Travis giving up?
Sharp, unrelenting pain swells near my breastbone. I gasp, pressing the heel of my hand between my breasts. Ben crowds me from behind, his voice distant and wobbly, and white noise in my ears. I can’t breathe, can’t speak, can’t think clearly. My somewhat tranquil life morphs into a discombobulated haze of pandemonium.
Travis stops pacing, his feet aimed in my direction. I lift my chin, my blurry gaze latching onto his anguished stare. Time warps and slows as we take each other in. In his amber eyes, I read all the thoughts he’s kept to himself over the last several hours.
Irritation not only with the Ben situation, but also with my stalker still on the loose. Uncertainty with where we stand after I almost initiated a kiss with someone other than him. Jealousy over sharing me, even if only in friendship, with someone else.
Something else lingers in his molten honey eyes. Something he is nowhere near ready to admit or give a voice, but shows me nonetheless. Something that scares the hell out of him.
