“I can’t.” His broken words are but a whisper echoed between the two of us.

“You can’t or you won’t?” I ask hesitantly.

“I can’t,” he states, his voice filled with the sadness.

“Why?” I press, unable to let the issue go.

“It hurts too much,” he says in a pained whisper.

Pulling me into his arms, he leans forward, pressing his forehead to mine. Inhaling deeply, he closes his eyes and murmurs, “Make it go away, Emma. Please, make it go away.” His words have barely evaporated from his lips before his mouth smashes into mine in a furious tangle of passion and need.

As our mouths collide, my inner voice screams, telling me this is wrong. Not to give into his demands. That Brighton Sinclair is only using me for an escape. To rid himself of all the pain and anger he feels at the loss of his best friend and whatever the hell else it is that eats away at him on a daily basis. But like a flower straining toward the sun, I know without a shadow of a doubt I won’t be able to resist. I can already feel my walls tumbling down with each swipe of his tongue.

Whimpering, my mouth falls open as he kisses me deeper, a painful tightness filling my chest with every surge of his tongue. Each caress he provides forces us further into my home. With a swift kick, he shoves the front door closed and spins me around, slamming my back against the door. Somewhere in the lustful fog rolling around my brain, I hear the click of the lock as he hoists me up, securing my legs around his waist. A deep rumble vibrates against me as he devours my mouth, sucking on my lips with tender abandon.

“Brighton,” I moan, my lips parting on his name.

Using my open mouth to his advantage, he slides his tongue tenderly over my lips before caressing the inside of my mouth as though they were the sweetest delicacy he’s ever tasted. With our lips still fused together, he carries me toward my bedroom, his muscles bunching and flexing under my fingertips with each stride. Entering my room, he wastes no time marching right to my bed and depositing me on my back. Ending our kiss, he leans back, searching my eyes for signs of unwillingness. Peering deeply, he watches me for several breaths. Shuddering, I can feel the heat rising in my body as his eyes caress my soul, ripping down the last of my defenses.