Page 112 of Burn Bright

But I don’t have to picture his hand skating down my elbow to my wrist. I feel it.

My arm lies against his warm chest. I’ve never cuddled anyone like this, but I want to keep curling up against Ben. Our eyes meet again. Oxygen has thinned. I shiver a little when his hand drops to my thigh.Keep going, I think.Don’t end it.

He’s thumbing the soft skin that peeks beneath the hem of my T-shirt.

I hear his breathing deepening. He cups my ass—then the front door opens while the pregnant cheerleaders storm the supermarket on screen.

Ben tugs down my T-shirt quickly. I unhook my leg from his waist and fall onto my back. It’s already past midnight, and we crane our heads to see Eliot twirling a chestnut-haired girl into the apartment. Her green velvet dress flows gracefully as she spins.

They laugh together. When she whirls to a halt, her focus lands on Ben with a gasp. “Is that—?” she starts, but Eliot slips a hand over her eyes.

“Nothing to see here.” Eliot gives Ben and me a smirk and wink. “The bedroom is this way, milady.” He guides her to his room, and it takes all my energy not to call him back.

Because I understand now.

Why Eliot and the rest of them have been trying to spend time with Ben. Why they’ve been “bonding” and why they begged him to move to New York. Ben thinks his brothers don’t know he plans to leave, and maybe they don’t know he’s ready to pack his bags for the wilderness.

But they suspect something.

Why else would they be trying so hard to get him to love New York?

And I’m not deluding myself.Iwill never be the reason Ben stays in the city. The only shot will be if his brothers can convince him. I want that. More than anything Iwant the Cobalt brothers to succeed.

“Sorry about that,” Ben apologizes and rewinds some of the movie.

“I’m guessing that’s not a girlfriend.”

“New night. New girl,” he confirms, his gaze dropping down to me for a long, sweltering beat. He’s not restarting the movie.

His hand slides through his hair, and I’m reminded how classically attractive he is. He might as well be the jock in any teen movie. The heartthrob in a rom-com. The boy next door that the girl has always pined for but never had.

He has a natural charm that lessens my nerves, whispers words of comfort and ease, and tonight, more than any night, I feel emboldened.

Turning toward him, I just come out and ask, “How many girls have you slept with?”

His lips edge into a powerful grin the same time his eyes go big in surprise. “That’s unexpected.”

“You’re leaving in two months. There’s no reason to be shy or wait around for the hard-hitting questions.” It’s not like I’ll ever be able to talk to him while he’s foraging in the woods. And maybe somethinggoodcan come out of knowing he’s not sticking around. I don’t have to worry about pushing him away or being too nosy or not doing the right things.

“You really want to do hard-hitting questions tonight?” His eyes dance over mine.

I nod. “Yeah, I want that.” I want to know all about him. Everything. And I know it’ll be more painful when he vanishes from my life, but at least I got to say I knew him…and he knew me.

He shuts the laptop and sets it on the end table. When he twists to face me, he says, “Twelve. You?”

I can’t stop my eyes from bugging.

He reads me. “That surprises you?”

“Yeah, but not why you might think. Our numbers are the same. Mine’s twelve too.”

“Not including head,” he clarifies.

Flush burns my neck. “I didn’t include it. Did you?”

“No.” He’s not balking or wincing or grimacing. He’s nodding, thinking it over. “A lot of mine were just casual hookups at parties. Only a few were girls I dated briefly in high school.”

“Did you enjoy it?” I wonder, doing my best not to visualize him hot and heavy with someone else.