Page 24 of From the Wreckage

Brielle

Dessert feels endless.

Every time Dad looks away, I sneak another glance at Everett. My lips quirk in a knowing smile. I catch the way his jaw flexes, his fingers tightening on his beer bottle like he’s fighting himself.

It thrills me.

I’ve never felt sexier. Never felt more powerful than in this quiet tug-of-war between us, hidden in plain sight. The heat in his eyes makes me want to keep pushing. To keep tempting him.

When Dad suggests we sit outside, I nearly sigh in relief. On the back deck, he gets a fire going in the pit, humming to himself as sparks float into the evening air.

“We should make s’mores,” I say suddenly, springing to my feet. I glance at Everett, letting my lips curl into a sly smile. “Everett, would you mind helping me carry the stuff?”

He stands slowly, his eyes blazing into mine, his chair scraping across the deck boards. My pulse quickens. Dad’s focused on the fire, and Tom and Anita are too busy laughing at a private joke to notice the silent current arcing between us.

Inside, the kitchen is quiet... and intimate. I open the cabinet, standing on my tiptoes to reach for the marshmallows. My fingers brush the bag, but I can’t quite grab it.

And then heat sears my back.

Everett steps in behind me, his chest pressing into me as his big hands cage my hips against the counter. He reaches up, plucks the bag with ease, and lowers it past me.

“Where are the graham crackers?” he rasps in my ear.

A shiver rakes down my spine. My voice trembles despite my efforts to steady it. “Next cupboard.”

He shifts, his chest dragging across my back as he reaches again. I suck in a sharp breath, frozen, my nerves on fire.

This is madness. Dangerous. Addictive.

He sets the box down, then spins me with a hand at my waist. His face is too close. His eyes burn with need. “Where’s the chocolate?”

Instead of answering, I press both hands against his chest, feeling the heat and the steady hammer of his heart. “I’m sorry about tonight,” I whisper. “What happened with?—”

His finger presses against my lips. His eyes, stormy and fierce, pin me in place. “Don’t say it. Don’t say his name.”

I nod, my eyes boring into his. My tongue flicks out, tasting the pad of his finger before I can stop myself.

He groans, the sound low, guttural, and dangerous. It vibrates straight through me.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he warns, his voice dark with promise.

But I don’t stop. I close my lips around his finger, sucking gently.

“Angel…” His head falls forward, his breath hot against my skin. “You’re killing me.”

I pull back slightly, looking up at him through my lashes. “I don’t want to kill you.” Lifting onto my tiptoes, my lips hover inches from his. “I want to kiss you.”

His growl rumbles against my mouth a second before he claims me. His arms crush me to him, his lips devouring mine. I feel the thundering of his heart through his shirt, pounding in rhythm with mine.

“We shouldn’t,” he mutters against my mouth, torn between restraint and need. “It’s too risky.”

“I know.” My kiss deepens, hungry for him. “But I find you irresistible.”

Laughter filters in from the deck, shattering the spell. We spring apart, both of us breathless. His eyes are molten, chest heaving.

“Same, angel,” he whispers roughly, clearing his throat. “Now... where’s the chocolate?”

My shaking hand points to the cupboard. He turns away, retrieving it like nothing happened.

But I’m still breathless, my lips swollen, my thoughts a blur of him.

I’m in so much trouble.

I know it’s wrong. That he’s older.

But I can’t let go of this man.