Page 37 of Hale

I let out a ragged breath. “How come?”

“I’m too distracted.”

“By what?”

“You.”

Heat prickles across my skin and I bite on my bottom lip. Embarrassment floods through me, but it’s mixed with delight.

“You’re smiling,” he says and he smiles too. “You’re happy.”

“I’m not,” I lie.

He smirks. “So what do I do about it?”

“I don’t know.” I shiver. It’s not cold, but my nerves are alive.

“Come here,” he growls.

I sit up and slide into his lap, straddling him. I wait for him to tell me I’m sitting on him in an inappropriate way, but he rests his hands on my lower back and smiles at me. Our eyes are locked, but neither of us speaks. He’s hard beneath me. My brother’s cock is hard because of me. It makes me want to rub against him, but I’m too shy. I don’t have the nerve to do it even though I desperately want to.

“Still cold?” he rumbles.

“Kinda,” I lie.

I lean forward against his chest and inhale his flesh on his neck. His palms slide to my ass and he pulls me closer. My breath hitches when I rub against his erection through his jeans. He doesn’t take his hands off my butt.

“Hudson,” I whisper. I want to ask him what’s happening. Ask him why I like it so much. If I didn’t fear his rejection, I’d ask him if he wants it too.

He pulls me to him again, his fingers digging into my ass. Another mewl escapes me. I rub my lips along his neck. The urge to lick him is overwhelming, but I refrain, just barely.

“Fuck, Rylie.” His voice is pained. Fingers bite into me once more as he uses my body for friction. “Fuck.”

I lift up to look at him. His green eyes flare with emotion. Need and desire. For me. I’m drunk off the look. I slide my fingers into his hair.

I want to kiss him.

Sick. Sick. Sick.

He grinds me against him again. This time, a loud moan rips from my throat. His wild eyes lock with mine. Pleading and begging. For what? I don’t know.

My panties are soaked and I wonder if he can smell my arousal. It’s heady and thick in the air. I should be ashamed because he’s my brother, but he’s got the fever too.

Lost and sick.

Sick and lost.

His palms abandon my ass and then slide up my thighs. Fire blazes in his orbs. I rock against him, urging him on. He groans and his fingers slip under my dress. We both suck in a sharp breath.

“Rylie,” he groans.

I dip forward and kiss his lips. Like last night in the tent. Softly. Unsure. And he bites me like he’s done before. But this time not on my jaw. On my bottom lip. He lets go and our lips press together again.

I’m on fire.

The fever—this sickness—is maddening me.

I part my lips and breathe into his mouth. I suck in his scent. Steal his air. Devour his groan. His tongue brushes along mine. It’s foreign in my mouth, but I like the taste. An instant addiction. I want more.