Love Triangle Six Books of Torn Desire - Willow Winters Page 0,346

know how boys like Damian think. Trust me. It’s nothing good.”

“I know that. I’m not as na?ve as you and my dad think I am.” Her voice is firm as she pushes her feet against the ground, swinging slightly. “I have absolutely no intention of going out with him.”

I lift a brow. “But you were okay with him touching you?” I lean closer, lowering my voice. “I saw what he was about to do.”

She stops swinging, her mouth tightening as she averts her eyes, staring at the ground.

“Boys like Damian need to learn that no means no.”

“And you think you’re the person to teach him that lesson?” She slowly brings her green eyes to mine.

“I do.” I take a step closer, crossing my arms in front of my chest, my biceps stretching the fabric of my t-shirt. She inhales sharply, then looks away.

“Like I told you earlier, you won’t always be around to bail me out of sticky situations.” Then she laughs. “But I doubt any other guy will ever come near me again, considering the last one who did ended up with a broken nose.”

“Which he deserved.”

“Yes. Yes, he did.” She draws in a deep breath, then exhales. Brooklyn’s almost as stubborn as I am, but in that moment, I see the fear she didn’t want to admit she felt earlier. “Thank you, Drew.”

“No one touches you unless you want them to. Ever. Got it?”

She nods. “Got it.”

“Good.”

With the air seemingly cleared between us, I walk around the swing, positioning myself behind her. “Well, go on then.”

She glances over her shoulder. “Go on…what?” Her forehead wrinkles.

“Swing. I’ll push you.”

“We’re not kids anymore,” she reminds me.

“You’re never too old to fly, Brookie,” I reply, using the nickname I used to call her.

She considers my response for a minute, then relents. “I suppose you’re right, Dewy.”

She faces forward and pushes her feet against the ground before straightening her legs as she takes flight. When she swings back, my hands land against her skin and I push, propelling her higher. After a few swings, her laughter fills the air, making me smile.

“Higher,” she calls out. Unable to deny her, I use more force to drive her higher. Her hair is wild as it blows in the wind, the sight of her so happy, so carefree, so at ease making my heart full.

Then a pang hits me as I contemplate how this is one of the last times I’ll push Brooklyn on this swing. One of the last times I’ll inhale her aroma as it wraps around me. One of the last times we’ll have this.

“Higher! Higher!” Brooklyn’s exuberant cries snap me out of my thoughts and I use more force to push her farther into the sky. She swings her legs back and propels herself off the swing, taking flight. I watch as she soars through the air, like she used to when we were kids. Her feet hit the ground, but she loses her balance, tumbling down the hill in her front yard.

I react quickly, hurrying to help. The steep pitch of the hill is too much and I fall, rolling down after her. I reach her, but velocity forces me to keep going, stopping directly on top of her with a grunt.

“Are you okay?” I ask feverishly, scanning her appearance for any cuts or bruises. “I’m so sorry. Did I push too hard? Did I—”

“Relax, Drew,” she says with a smile. The anger that had covered her expression earlier in the day has disappeared, leaving the version of Brooklyn I’m accustomed to—tranquil and relaxed. “I wanted to fly.”

I lick my lips, glued to my position. I should roll off her, help her back to her feet, then say my goodbyes, but I’m completely mesmerized, unable to look away, to stop wanting to feel her body against mine. She’s unlike any other girl at our school. They all seem to be obsessed with the latest fashion trend or hairstyle. Not Brooklyn. She wears whatever she finds comfortable, regardless of whether it shows the most cleavage or leg. She wears barely any makeup, but she doesn’t have to. Her skin has a natural glow to it. Her hair is free of any highlights or gels. Her beauty is authentic, not the result of a ridiculous amount of products.

I reach for a strand of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes. The instant my finger brushes against her skin, a charge of electricity pulses through me. I try to blame it