Page 45 of Wish Lists and Road Trips

“You’re not an asshole. If I’d listened to you, your mouth wouldn’t be bleeding.”

“No. If I hadn’t left you alone, or if I hadn’t swung on that guy even after you were out of danger, then my mouth wouldn’t be bleeding.” I took the pack and put it on my face, going back to the main room. “It was my fault.”

Brit was at my heels. “Why’d you do it?” she asked. “Go after him like that, I mean. Your face was scary.”

“I was angry.” I turned, nearly bumping into her. She looked up at me with pleading eyes, and I was too tired to lie to her. “And scared.”

“For me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I closed my eyes, thinking of the moment my flight was canceled. How I’d told myself to walk straight to the hotel, that we’d already said goodbye and she was surrounded by people whose job it was to help her get home. And how even as I thought it, my feet were already carrying me to where I’d left her. Brit could get home without me. Like she said, she could do anything without me. Half the time, I think she was just humoring me and my need to have control over everything. Until tonight.

I lowered the ice and looked down at her. “Because I wasn’t with you.”

Her head tipped nearly all the way back to look at me with those pretty eyes. I wanted to hold her that way, crush my mouth over hers. But I also wanted to get out of the room and away from her for a few so I could process everything that had just happened—the fact that I’d just lost another few ounces of my brother, and the way I’d admitted to myself how badly I wanted her. How the enormity of those two things happening in the span of an hour was too much. I’d never been more conflicted in my life.

She took a step back and unhooked the halter of her dress. “Turn around.”

I spun toward the wall, grateful for the break in eye contact. I reached for my backpack, finding the boxers she’d borrowed, and tossed them over my shoulder to her.

“Thank you.” I heard the smile on her face.

I stripped down to my underwear, tossed my clothes on the chair, and went to switch off the light.

“Sit with me?” She’d climbed under the duvet, her head sinking into the overstuffed pillow. “Please?”

Ignoring every intelligent thought in my brain, I crossed the room and climbed in beside her, pulling the blankets over us. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Her voice was tiny and shaky, and my heart fractured another splinter.

I tucked her hair behind her ear. “Are you scared?”

She shook her head. “Not anymore.”

I reached for her hip, sliding her closer. There I was touching her again, but I got the feeling she wanted me to, and she was lying beside me with all of that bare skin on display. I only had so much willpower.

She brushed the pad of her middle finger over my mouth. “Does it hurt?”

“Not really.” I swallowed, watching her every move. Her eyes were wide, and I could hear her breath coming in an uneven rhythm. It felt like the world was evaporating around me, leaving just her tiny noises and the heat of her body.

She pulled her fingers back and pressed them to her own lips, kissing them, then she touched me again, feather light. I wasn’t sure if she was afraid to hurt me, or afraid of what I’d do. I held her wrist, pressing her closer, kissing her fingertips. It stung like hell, but I didn’t care.

“Where’d you go?” she asked. “Earlier, when you left.”

“I had something to do.”

“Duh.” It was a whisper. A soft nudge.

I couldn’t explain myself to her right now, though. My thoughts raced, my body fighting me. I still felt every bit of the desire I’d had holding her on the dance floor, and now we were inches apart with the entirety of this night—of this trip—in bed with us.

I ran my hand down her arm, making up my mind about where to stop as I went. I landed on her waist and squeezed. “It wasn’t important.”

“You’re lying. But you’ll tell me someday.” Her fingers tangled in the chain around my neck. “The clasp is in the front.”

“So?”

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