Branded (Fall of Angels #1)(35)

“I just wanted to see you, that’s all,” he says with a way too cocky voice.

“Shh …” I say. “Quiet. We’re close to the farmhouse.”

He shrugs. “So?”

“I don’t want my dad to hear us. He’s in there with my brothers.”

“Ahh …” He takes a step toward me. “You’re afraid he’ll find us here together?”

“Duh. You shouldn’t be here,” I say, leaning back as if I instinctively know not to let him get close. I don’t know why, but it feels different. Like I’m playing with fire, and I don’t wanna get burned.

When he tries to caress my cheek, I turn my face slightly. He pauses. “Are you afraid of me?”

Maybe. I don’t know the answer, but I feel like I should. What he did was wrong. Horrible.

But I know why he did it.

After all those years of Derek tormenting Brandon, he was bound to explode. But I never expected it to be this uncontrollable, this explosive. This … dangerous.

“Should I be?” I ask, licking my lips.

The half-smile that forms on his face has my heart skipping a beat. Fuck. I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. Not when he’s so volatile and aggressive … and sexy.

“I can’t answer that for you,” he says after a while. He places his hands on the workbench, trapping me inside. “I don’t want you to be, though.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” I whisper, looking down at my feet. Jesus. Why am I such a pussy when it comes to him? I should speak up, for fuck’s sake. Stop being a fucking whimpering virgin who can’t handle a little touchy-feely.

“Hey.” He tips up my chin with one finger. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

I nod softly as if he just asked me whether I believe him. I’m not even sure I do. I just know I want to. For my sake and for his.

“But what happened at the bonfire …” I mutter.

I don’t know how to begin my sentence or how to end it. Just like I don’t know where we began and where we should end.

Maybe now.

Maybe never.

Shit.

Why do I feel this way around him?

Why is it that when a guy loses control, I want him even more?

Am I that obsessed with bad boys? Jesus, help me.

“It never should’ve happened,” he says, rubbing his lips together. “But I can’t erase it. And even if I could, I’m not even sure I would.”

I bite my lip while sucking in a breath. My lungs feel constricted. Did he just admit that he liked hurting Derek?

Hell, I don’t think I’ll ever hear anyone say that … except him.

It’s all starting to make sense now.

That darkness in his eyes that day wasn’t just a coincidence. That was the real him, the one who was always hiding in the shadows. That was the devil inside him, unleashed in full fury.

And Lord … I couldn’t stop watching the onslaught. The inhumaneness of it all.

Or maybe I was just stunned because I didn’t feel sorry for Derek. Not for one second.

Am I just like him?

But I don’t wanna be a monster.

“It was wrong,” I say after gathering all my courage.

“I know,” he says, gazing at me with those deep, dark eyes. “But I’m not here to apologize to him. I’m here for you,” he murmurs, pressing his body against mine. “Because I don’t want this to get between us.”

“It already did,” I say, forcing myself to put two hands on his chest with the intent to push him away. Instead, feeling his warmth under the thin fabric of his shirt only makes me want to pull him closer.

“Only if you let him,” Brandon says. “But you deserve better. We deserve better,” he says, leaning in so close I can feel his breath on my skin.

I shudder with delight when his lips graze mine.

“Can’t we forget about what happened at the bonfire?” he murmurs.

“How? You’re a fugitive. Everyone’s looking for you,” I reply, trying not to let him kiss me even though my body desperately wants him to.

“I don’t care,” he says, and he tries to make a move on me again.

My brain finally catches up with what’s happening and puts a stop to it. I push him away as I say, “We can’t. It’s not right.”

“Why not?” he asks, grabbing my hands. “I need you, Dixie.”

The desperation in his voice is like torture to me, but I must stand my ground.

“I … I can’t … My dad would kill me.”

“Screw your dad,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Don’t say that,” I say, tearing my hands away from his. “I love my family. You know that.”

“All they do is judge you for the things you do, the things you want the most,” he replies.

“So? Every family does that. Your dad judges us too.”

He scoffs. “I only care about you, Dixie. We don’t need them.” He tips up my chin. “Let’s run away together.”

I make a face. I can’t believe he’s suggesting this. “Where? How?”

“Anywhere. Where’d you like to go?”