I have always found him attractive. Handsome in a grown, mature way. I’m not the only one who thinks so. I’ve heard women in the tribe talk about his smile on more than one occasion.

My move on plan didn’t work with Hyde. How could it, when I saw hope in his eyes? Hope that I didn’t feel myself? I won’t use someone else just to make myself feel better. I like Hyde too much. But Hayden?

I look at him, a little ripple of excitement moving through me as I find him watching me. In his eyes I don’t see hope. All I see is humor—and heat. And those soft-looking lips . . . I really would like to kiss him.

“There’s only one way to find out,” I say, before I can stop myself. “And you did offer to warm me up.”

Hayden’s eyes narrow slightly. “Brooke . . . you’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

His hand comes up, and he runs his fingers along my cheek. I jump a little, but he doesn’t. His fingers are steady on my skin. Steady as they trace my neck and then run across my collarbone. His eyes are sensual and dark as they follow the path of his touch. His mouth relaxes, and there it is. That sultry pout.

I expected a kiss. That’s not what’s happening, and it’s thrilling.

He looks into my eyes, his gaze so dark and hungry that it takes everything in me not to shiver. Then he bends toward me, and his lips close over mine, the pressure soft but sure. I kiss him back, and Hayden moves in, his tongue sweeping against mine, and a single thought explodes in my mind: Hayden knows what he’s doing.

He sets an immediate tone, kissing me with confidence, and it feels achingly good, achingly familiar. I twist my hands into his hair and kiss him deeply, and hear him groan.

“Brooke,” he whispers, “easy.” But everything he’s doing contradicts that. His hand grips my thigh, so tight that I feel the pressure of every finger.

I move closer to him. He moves at the same time, and with all the moving that’s happening we end up lying on our sides, face-to-face. Together we are tumbling down a hillside of desire, and it feels safe. So safe not to care. This is only about lips and hands and skin. Swirling, smoky desires that are swallowing me up.

Hayden’s hand rolls up my ribs and brushes over my breast, sending a wave of desire through me. But after a few moments he surprises me by drawing away. “Brooke, there’s definitely a spark here. We might actually catch fire if we don’t—”

“Shhh . . . This is more fun when you don’t talk.”

His laugh is a short, clipped sound. “Fun?”

“Yes. Fun.”