Page 38 of Sanctuary

“It’s my brush. Surely I decide where it belongs.”

“The floor is community property. Personal possessions don’t belong there.”

My attempts to refrain my amusement are useless. Laughter keeps bubbling out as I get up to reach for the brush.

He raises his arm to keep it out of my reach.

“Hey, that’s mine.” I grab for it again.

He evades me and makes a move back toward my pack to return it to its designated-by-him spot.

I block him.

“Breanna.” His eyes are laughing, but the rest of his expression is disapproving. “The brush goes there.”

“I get to say where the brush goes.” I try to grab for it again in a quick lunge, but he jerks his hand away at the last minute, making me almost stumble.

He uses his other hand to catch me around the waist before I fall. Then he doesn’t let go, making it impossible for me to reach the brush.

“Oh, you big bully,” I burst out, still laughing helplessly and also trying to get away so I can claim the hairbrush. “Your longer arms give you an unfair advantage.”

“Am I supposed to feel bad about that?”

“Yes, you should feel bad. It’s my brush.”

“I’m trying to return it.” He’s openly laughing now as he tries to hold me back.

We have a silly little scuffle that ends when I lose my balance and fall backwards onto my bed.

Aidan grabs me quickly to break my fall, although the cushions would have almost certainly protected me from the impact.

Either way, we both end up on the bedding, me on my back and Aidan on top of me.

And he’s still got my damned brush.

Laughing breathlessly, I grab yet again for it, and this time I actually get my hand on it.

I tug, and he resists for a minute, until he finally relents and releases it.

I let out a victorious exclamation.

“I let you win,” he murmurs, amusement still glinting in his eyes and softening his lips.

“So says the loser.” I’m grinning up at him, completely absorbed in our playful challenge and not thinking about anything else.

But then I see his eyes change. They get hotter. Unexpectedly hungry as he gazes down at me. His cheeks flush deeper, and he holds himself very still.

I’m suddenly aware that half his weight is pressed into my body. He’s supporting himself on one arm, but our legs are tangled together, and our groins are aligned.

He’s wearing his jeans today, but there’s a growing bulge at the front of them. I can feel it—feel him—against me.

And I want it.

Want him.

In a way that’s only partly physical.

The desire for him overwhelms me. Swallows me up. It’s bewildering and frightening and entirely new for me.

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