What did she think she…what the hell was wrong with him? “Did I do something wrong?”
Instead of answering her, he redirected, again. “Why do you think you did?”
Setting the coffee mug on the table, she rose. No sooner did she achieve her feet than he stood as well. Somehow he seemed taller, broader and, God help her, he filled the room. Power wreathed him—where the hell did that thought come from? “What is wrong with you?”
Canting his head to the side, Brett studied her. “What makes you think something is wrong?” So calm. So cool. So—absent. Where the hell had the Brett she’d hung and made out with the last few days gone?
Pacing away from the fire pit and chairs, she gave into the agitation ratcheting inside. “Everything makes me think something is wrong with you. You’re not being you anymore.”
Pregnant silence followed, but she didn’t look at him. Better to study the darkness and the faint shadows of the trees she could make out beyond the flickering firelight. The call of cicadas hummed in the background interrupted by the occasional night bird. A rustling of leaves warned her a small animal darted through the woods. An image of a canine flashed across her mind and she clenched her fists. She’d seen a wolf out here, but Brett dismissed it.
Only the memory didn’t include the night, but warm sunshine. Trying to capture the elusive memory was like closing her hand over smoke. The disparity between what she remembered and what she knew increased. A hand came down on her shoulder and she tensed.
“Shh,” Brett’s whispered. Comfort coupled with his squeeze eased some of the rising anxiety rippling through her, but did nothing for the tension locking her muscles. “You’re safe here.”
“I don’t feel safe here.” The admission shocked her, but the moment the words left her mouth, the truth in them resonated with her. She didn’t feel safe. She didn’t know these people. She thought she knew Brett, but his behavior… He won’t lie to me. He made that clear, so why the hell am I being such a bitch?
“I know.” The simplicity in his acknowledgement rocked her. Twisting, she faced him. The shadows dancing across his face hid his expression from her. Much like his withdrawing hid the Brett she’d been getting to know.
“Which one is the real you?” Before she continued down the insanity of the path she seemed hell-bent on following in utter defiance of good sense, she needed to get her heart off the line. A muscle ticked in his jaw.
“You’ve been spending time with me…”
“I have and you’ve been courteous and flirtatious and caring, yet tonight, you’re cold and remote and not at all the man I made out with.” Caution be damned, she arched onto her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck. He bent his head at the action and she pressed her lips to his. The sizzle along her nerve endings remained absent, but Brett didn’t move. Hell, he didn’t even seem to be breathing. Annoyed, she scraped her teeth over his lower lip and threaded her fingers into his hair.
Between one heartbeat and the next, desire galvanized through her. He fisted her hair and took control of the kiss. Tipping her head back, he darted his tongue along the seam of her lips, demanding entry. Relief twined with passion and she sucked his tongue against her teeth. The rumble in his chest inspiring her, she went to work loosening the buttons of his shirt not stopping until she could spread her palms against his skin.
“Colby,” he said against her mouth, but she delved her tongue against his. No more damn talking and twisting of words. The heat flaring inside of her threatened to burn her alive and she hated the indecisive shit.
Abandoning his mouth she kissed along his jaw, pausing where the skin turned rigid from his scars and laved her tongue along the old hurt. A groan tore loss from his throat and she traced the line of the scar to his throat then to his shoulder. Pressing the shirt away, she continued to lick and nip. The salt on his skin drew her like a magnet. Liquid heat pooled between her thighs.
When she reached his nipple, it dimpled and stood up as though straining to reach her and she locked her lips around it.
“Colby,” his voice was a harsh rumble, almost a growl.
“I want you,” she said against his skin. Fuck caution. She’d been around the bend four or five times with her attraction. Kissing wasn’t enough anymore. Lust raced through her blood and all she wanted was to feel him touching her. Drawing away from his chest, she stripped off her tank top. The night air against her bare breasts barely helped to cool the conflagration burning over her skin.
Reflections of the firelight flickered in his eyes and his gaze roved over her hungrily. With impatient hands, she tugged the rest of his buttons free and pulled the shirt from his jeans. He didn’t stop her when she stripped the shirt away completely.