It doesn’t.
It’s just lips and tongue.
Wetness and cinnamon gum.
Nothing about his kiss consumes me—not like War’s did. The only reason he’s been awarded this kiss in the first place is because his grip is strong and I can’t easily break away. When he moans into my mouth, I freeze. I don’t want to kiss him. I want him to give me some space. Sliding my fingers into his hair, I tug until his lips break from mine.
“Brandon,” I murmur, my voice laced with annoyance.
He ignores the sting of me pulling his hair and instead, steals another kiss. His weight topples me over into the cold earth and soon he’s grinding his erection against me. The man kisses me as if he’s starved for me—as if I’m the one person who can fill some of his emptiness.
The entire action reminds me of Gabe and my heart speeds up. My palms find his chest, and I try to push him away but he’s so strong. When he grinds painfully against me again, I lose it and manage to jerk my mouth from his, turning my head sharply to the right. His mouth moves on to my neck and earlobe, hot breath tickling my flesh.
“God, how I’ve missed you, babe. Missed us. This.” He emphasizes his point by nibbling on the skin.
I see red about the same time I see a stick. It isn’t thick but it’ll do. With quick, forceful whaps I whip him on the back of the head until he rolls off and away from me. Scrambling to my knees, I point the stick at him accusingly.
“What is wrong with you, Brandon?” I demand and toss the stick into the grass. “My mind is a mess and this certainly isn’t helping.”
He has the sense to look ashamed. His darkened eyes return to the sparkly green I know and trust. Crimson heats the top of his cheeks as he runs his fingers through his messy hair. “Jesus, Baylee. I’m so sorry. I just missed you and—”
“Thought you could make out with me on my mother’s grave?” I finish for him, my voice venom-filled as I stand up. My words wound him and I’m glad. I know he’s been through a lot, but so have I.
He looks up toward the sky with a groan and then pins me with an icy glare before stalking off toward the truck. “And you don’t have to worry,” he calls out over his shoulder, “that’ll be the last time I try and comfort you again. But my feelings for you—my craving to touch you—can’t just be flipped off with the push of a button, unlike you.”
Guilt washes over me as he leaves me. Maybe I was too harsh. This has to be difficult for him too. When I left, we were hot and heavy for one another. We had plans. A future all mapped out.
But then I was sent to War.
And everything changed.
Nothing will ever go back to the way things used to be.
By the time I reach the truck, he’s squatting down beside it. When I round the vehicle to inspect what he’s looking at, my heart sinks.
“I dropped it. It’s dead now.”
The phone is shattered and the screen is black. My brows furrow as suspicion trickles through me. I used to drop my phone all of the time and never once shattered it. Sure, I cracked it a time or two, but it never shattered. He had to have thrown it when he had his angry tantrum. I want to shout at him for being a hot-headed asshole or to demand why he’d destroy our only connection to the outside world. Instead, I lift my chin and wordlessly go back to the passenger side to climb in. Casting one more glance at my mother’s final resting place, I silently make a vow to her.
I will find a way to be happy, Mom.
A way to be safe.
I will protect myself and nurture the love in my heart for War.
You don’t have to worry about your little girl anymore. I’m all grown up.
I won’t let anyone control my life but me.
The drive back to the cabin is silent and it’s driving me crazy. My mind buzzes with all sorts of questions. Everything out of his mouth seems like a lie and I want to shake the truth from him.
“Do your parents know you came to save me?” I ask and flick my gaze over to him.
He shrugs and continues to stare ahead of him. “Nope. They don’t give a shit about anything except for school and baseball. Neither of them cared about what happened to you. That’s why I left. I’ve been looking for you ever since.”
I frown and look out the window lost in my thoughts for a while. It surprises me that Brandon would move out. Where would he even go? Has he been working this entire time? I’m shocked that he would give up so much for me. When my stomach lets out a grumble, I turn back to regard him. His shoulders are rigid and tense while his hands grip the steering wheel. The muscle on his neck flexes every other second as he clenches his jaw. He’s clearly still angry about what happened at the cemetery.