Page 94 of Broken Trails
The only light in the room is that shitty yellow bulb overhead. It casts her skin in gold, softening the edges of everything. Makes the room feel slower. Closer. Zoe stands there, eyes on the bed, still as anything, but I can see it. She’s at war with herself. I can practically hear the thoughts clashing in her head.
“Relax, Freckles. I won’t bite.”
“I’m not worried about a little biting.”
My jaw ticks. Yeah, I’m taking that exactly how it sounds. Maybe she’s not afraid of a little roughness. Maybe she wants it. She’s still not moving. Still watching the bed like it’s going to make the decision for her. I pat the mattress beside me. “Come. Get some rest.”
We’re both acting like we didn’t just suck face like we wanted to tear each other apart. Everything feels weird. Off-kilter. But the tension’s still here, clinging to the walls, hanging between us. I swallow, clenching my jaw tight, forcing myself not to say something I won’t come back from. Because one word. One move—
And we’re not sleeping tonight .
29
Waiting – Omarion & Riley
It’s the middle of the night, and I’m still wide awake.
The sheets are warm now. Too warm. My shirt’s twisted around my ribs, my legs tangled in the duvet. And Michael—fucking Michael—is sleeping beside me.
Same bed. Same space.
When we walked into this room, I thought there was no way he’d fit. That big, broad frame of his, the way he moves like he owns every inch of ground under his boots. But somehow, he’s managed to stay perfectly still. Perfectly polite. Not one accidental brush of his arm. Not even the weight of a foot bumping mine.
I won’t lie. It’s disappointing.
My eyes drift to the ceiling. The overhead light is still on, glowing soft and yellow. I squint, annoyed, wondering why he didn’t switch it off. Maybe he needs it. Or maybe he left it on for me. My heart kicks at the thought. I toss again, dragging my arm under the pillow, trying not to sigh. My thigh shifts—too close—and I feel it. Warm skin. The solid weight of him right there.
His thigh.
My body retracts. The contact is so minimal, but my breath catches anyway. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t react. God. I should be asleep. I should be focusing on anything else, but my brain won’t let it go. The kiss.
That stupid, reckless, devastating kiss. It was good. No, better than good.
It was exhilarating.
The kind of kiss that didn’t just steal the air from my lungs, it reprogrammed every single nerve ending in my body. I press my fingertips to my lips, eyes fluttering shut. My jaw is tight, like I’ve been clenching it for hours. Probably because I have. It was a mistake. He’s younger. This whole thing is messy and unhinged and completely reckless.
And still…
It was just one kiss, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it. About the way he grabbed my face. The roughness in his hands. How certain he was, how utterly unbothered by consequence.
God, the heat in it. The hunger.
The way his mouth moved over mine, like it had been waiting to do that all damn year. My whole body lit up the second he touched me. Like he reached into my chest and struck a match.
I curl my toes under the blanket, roll my ankle, something—anything—to release the tension that’s been building. And right now?
It doesn’t.
I shift again, slower this time. More deliberate. The outside of my thigh grazes his. Not an accident. And definitely not enough.
His breathing shifts. A low inhale, followed by a slow, audible exhale.
He’s awake.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Freckles,” he mutters, and the sound of his voice sends goosebumps down my arms.
“Why are you awake?” I whisper, suddenly aware of everything.
