Page 23 of Uxpectedly Ever After

"Does it scare you?" I ask. "Running into fires? Especially after what happened with your dad?"

His jaw tightens, the muscle there flexing in the flickering candlelight. "Not the fire itself, not really. It's the unknowns that get you. A floor that gives way without any warning. A backdraft you can't predict." His fingers move from the back of my neck to my hair, gently twisting a strand around his finger. "The fear is a good thing, though. It keeps you sharp. The guys who start thinking they're invincible are usually the ones who don't make it home."

Just then, another bolt of lightning cracks right outside my window, followed immediately by a deafening clap of thunder that shakes the entire building. I startle against him, and his armslides around my shoulders, like it belongs there, pulling me into the solid, comforting warmth of his side.

"Hey, thunder can't hurt you," he whispers, his lips so close to my ear I can feel his breath disturbing the tiny hairs there, sending a shiver cascading down my spine.

I really should move away. Put some much-needed space between us. That's what the sensible, rational version of me would do. But his body is so solid and warm pressed against mine, he smells so damn good, and somehow it just feels right to be tucked against him while the storm rages on outside.

“Tell me something,” I say. “Distract me.”

"I sleep better when I'm here," he says, and the way he blurts it out makes me think he didn’t mean to admit it. I wonder if he’ll stop, but he doesn’t. "It’s enough knowing you're in the next room. The nightmares don't happen as often."

I look up at him, finding his eyes in the dim light. "What nightmares?"

His chest expands with a deep breath, then slowly falls as he exhales. "There was a building collapse a couple of years ago. I was pinned under a support beam for almost three hours before they finally dug me out." His voice is surprisingly matter-of-fact, but his arm tightens around me, his fingers pressing a little harder into my skin. "I still wake up sometimes feeling like I’m trapped."

"I had no idea." And I really should have. How the hell did I not know something like that happened to him? Apparently, there's a whole lot I've missed about Banks over all the years I was too busy trying to ignore my crush on him.

"Only my therapist knows all the details." His fingers trail up and down my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "And now you."

Something shifts between us with that admission. He's letting me see this piece of himself that he keeps hidden fromeveryone else, and it makes my chest tight, and an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies take flight in my stomach.

"I sleep better too," I whisper, feeling the need to give him something for the gift he’s just given me. "I used to lie awake for hours in this creaky old building, jumping at every single sound." I force myself to keep my eyes locked on his so he’ll see the truth in my words. "Now I just… I know you're there. On the other side of the wall."

His arm pulls me tighter against him until my cheek is pressed against his chest and he presses a kiss to the top of my head. His steady heartbeat’s thumping against my ear while my own is going completely haywire.

Lightning flashes again, and the room lights up in brief, stark white. In that split second, I see the intense look in his eyes as he stares down at me. It's feral and predatory andoh my fucking godso hot.

"This is because of the storm, right?" I murmur, needing to blame the way I’m about to fold like a cheap card table on something. "Because it's dark and loud and we're trapped?"

"Sure," he agrees but his voice is rough, and his fingers tighten where they’re pressed into my skin.

I think it’s clear we're both liars.

The lightning and thunder decide to hit at the exact same time, booming so loud it feels like the windows are going to shatter in their frames. I jump, letting out this pathetic little squeak of a sound, and burrow even closer to him.

His arms tighten around me, one hand sliding up to grip the back of my neck, his fingers threading through my hair. It’s possessive, the way his rough fingers tighten against my skin.

"I've got you," he murmurs, his lips brushing against my temple. "Nothing's going to hurt you as long as I’m breathing."

I tilt my head back because my feminism’s got her protest signs all ready to go, but the words die in my throat the secondI see his face in the flickering candlelight. His eyes are dark, almost black and locked onto me. I could count every single one of his long eyelashes if I wanted to. I can see the tiny, almost invisible scar cutting through his left eyebrow, notice the stubble starting to darken his jaw even though I know he shaved this morning.

"Banks," I breathe out, his name sounding more like a question than anything else. Or maybe it's an invitation.

He answers by slowly sliding his other hand up to my face, his thumb brushing back and forth over my bottom lip. The feather-light touch makes me tremble all the way down to my toes. When his eyes drop to my mouth, the raw, undisguised hunger burning there sets my body on fire.

"Tell me to stop, Clover," he whispers, his voice so deep and rough it barely even sounds like him.

I absolutely should. Every logical, rational part of my brain is screaming at me to stop this right now. He's my brother's best friend. Giving in would complicate absolutely everything in ways I can't even begin to comprehend.

But logic doesn't stand a single goddamn chance against the way he's looking at my mouth like he'll actually die if he doesn't get to taste it. Against the heat of his fingers curled around my neck and pressing into my skin. Against all the years I've spent pretending I haven’t been dreaming of exactly this.

So, I answer him by closing the last little bit of distance between us and finally,finallykissing him.

He freezes for one heart-stopping second, and I start to spiral. Did I just make a monumental, life-altering mistake? Then he makes this guttural sound—half groan, half growl—that vibrates deep in his chest and up through my body, setting off a whole new wave of heat. His mouth crashes down on mine again, any hesitation long gone as the kiss turns feral. Wild. Desperate.

I gasp, and he takes immediate advantage, deepening the kiss as his fingers tangle in my hair, gripping almost painfully. He kisses like he’s been starving for a taste of me, like he’s trying to memorize every single sound I make and the way his mouth fits against mine.

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