The Spirit Tree
As if turned into a flaming-freaking-bird wasn’t bad enough, I’m fighting for my life against a conjurer who wants to kill me, Tribal Elders who want to manipulate me, and don’t even get me started on the blue-eyed detective and the Cherokee body guard determined to claims me. It’s a good thing I was raised by two tough as nails Southern Ladies, otherwise I'd never survive.
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Bryson stepped from the tub and embraced me.
It struck me as humorous that we were back where we’d started, before all hell had broken loose. Of course, Bryson hadn’t been dripping wet and naked the first time. I pulled away, but he held me tighter, and for one heart-stopping moment, I thought he might kiss me.
I froze in place. Part of me wanted him to kiss me until I forgot my fear and pain and loss, but another part of me resisted him. Aaron and I had started something promising. But how could it go further with so many secrets between us? If I cared about Aaron, why did it feel so natural to stand here with Bryson? How could I choose between these two amazing men?
He nuzzled against my cheek and buried his face in my hair. The intimacy of those few precious moments tore down a wall I’d built the night Charlie died. I struggled to hold in the parts of myself that were threatening to spill out.
“Baby, let it go,” Bryson whispered.
I pulled away. “I can’t.”
He pressed his lips into a thin line and turned his head.
A need welled up inside me—a need to take away his sad expression, to make him smile. I brushed my fingers across his jaw. “Kiss me.”
Bryson shook his head. “I would love to, but not now, not like this.” His eyes followed his hand as he brushed my hair from my face. “There will be no sadness when I kiss you for the first time.”