Steam blurred the mirror, curling against the glass, and the small bathroom filled with the sharp scent of soap mixed with the ocean still clinging to his skin. My pulse ticked up, each drop that hit porcelain sounding like a countdown. We crammed into the tiny stall. Kai’s broad shoulders glistened under the spray, the sharp cut of his jaw as water traced down his throat. There was barely room to move, but I didn’t want to anyway. I was exactly where I wanted to be.
Kai’s hand slid into my hair, tilting my face back so the water streamed over me, rinsing away salt and sweat. His touch was tender, fingers massaging my scalp until my knees went soft. “Better?” he asked, voice rough with heat.
“Mm,” I managed, leaning into his palm. “Dangerously better.”
His answering smile was slow, wicked. He soaped my shoulders, lather trailing down the curve of my arm before rinsing me clean, every stroke deliberate, unhurried. Like he was relearning me through his hands, mapping me with touch alone. My breath came faster with each glide of his fingers. I thought of those same hands the night of the break-in—zip ties cinched around his wrists. Fear had lived in my bones for days afterward. But here, under his touch, that memory dissolved like suds down the drain. His hands reclaimed me, rewrote me.
When he finally pulled me against him, our slick bodies slid together, every contour aligning as if we’d been made to fit. His erection pressed hard against my stomach, and my whole body clenched with want. He kissed me slow, unhurried, like we hadnowhere else to be—but there was fire behind it, each pass of his tongue daring me to let go.
My painter’s eye caught everything in fragments: the sheen of water on bronze skin, the deep line of shadow between his shoulders, the way droplets caught in his eyelashes like tiny prisms. He was a living masterpiece, and I wanted to touch every inch.
When he reached past me to shut off the water, the silence felt thick, broken only by our breaths. He grabbed a towel, wrapping it around me with a tenderness that made my throat tighten, patting me dry in slow strokes that left goosebumps in their wake. He worked down my arms, across my stomach, over my thighs, his eyes never leaving mine. By the time he was finished, I was trembling—and it had nothing to do with the cool air of the bathroom.
Kai slung the towel aside and caught my hand, threading his fingers through mine. No words, no smirk, just a steady pull that led me down the hall. My pulse raced with each step.
He stopped at the edge of the bed and turned me toward him. For a moment he just looked, eyes roaming over me with something more than hunger. Reverence. Awe. Like he couldn’t believe I was really here.
“Jaz,” he rasped, his thumb brushing across my knuckles, “you have no idea how much I need you right now.”
And then he drew me down onto the bed with him, his body covering mine, his mouth finding mine again—this time sweeter, deeper, promising everything he couldn’t yet say.
He stretched out beside me, one elbow braced so his gaze never wavered. His other hand skimmed my ribs, fingertips tracing aslow path downward that made me shiver. He bent, brushing his mouth over mine, lingering until I sighed into him, opening for him. His tongue slid against mine, slow and teasing, and the tension that had coiled in me for days melted away beneath the weight of forgiveness in that kiss.
When his hand closed over my breast, I gasped, arching into the heat of his palm. He broke the kiss to whisper against my throat, “So damn beautiful,” before his lips traveled lower, tasting their way down to where his hand had been. His tongue flicked my nipple and I moaned, clutching at his shoulders. He didn’t rush, alternating between sucking and teasing, keeping me writhing beneath him until I begged for more.
By the time his mouth slid between my thighs, I was already trembling. His tongue stroked me with precision, every flick and swirl lifting me higher. He teased relentlessly, circling me until I was gasping, then plunging deeper until my whole body bucked against his mouth. My nails dug into the sheets, my cries echoing off the walls, and he held me there, savoring every sound, until release tore through me like lightning.
I was still gasping, still shaking, when he kissed his way back up my body. His weight settled over me, heavy and perfect, and when he finally slid inside, it felt like coming home. The stretch made me cry out, sharp and sweet, and he stilled to let me adjust, his forehead pressed to mine as if he needed to feel every flicker in my eyes.
Then he began to move. Slow at first, achingly slow, each thrust measured, controlled. But the restraint only made it hotter. His hips ground against me, deeper each time, until I couldn’t hold back the sounds spilling from my throat. Every stroke felt like a vow—that I was his, that he was mine, that nothing outside this room mattered.
“Harder,” I gasped, and he obliged, groaning as he drove into me with more force, sweat slicking our bodies together. My legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him deeper. He angled his hips just right, and the pressure coiled so tight I thought I’d break apart.
“Kai—” I cried out as release ripped through me, clenching around him in pulses that dragged him over the edge with me. He groaned my name, burying his face in my neck as his own release shook through him, raw and unrestrained.
For a long moment, we stayed like that, tangled in sweat and sheets, the sound of our ragged breath the only thing in the room. Finally, Kai rolled to the side, pulling me with him so my head rested on his chest. His hand stroked lazy circles across my back, his heartbeat still pounding under my ear.
“Sweetest boyfriend ever?” he asked, voice rough, but threaded with a smile.
“Undisputed champion,” I whispered, kissing his chest.
I melted into him, the fan stirring the heavy night air and cicadas buzzing outside the window. For the first time in weeks, I felt almost safe. Almost. My eyes lingered on the shadows shifting across the ceiling, and I wondered how long we could hold onto this bubble before the outside world came crashing back. But for tonight, wrapped in Kai’s arms, I let myself believe in the illusion of safety.
CHAPTER 26
KAI
Three days. That’s how long it had been since I’d looked my twin in the eye. Not because I was avoiding him, exactly. Just that every spare moment not on the water had been spent holed up in Jasmine’s bungalow, basking in the kind of bliss I hadn’t thought possible a week ago.
Her place had become its own world—soft light from mismatched lamps, the faint smell of acrylics, the way she laughed under her breath when a song came on shuffle she swore she didn’t like but still sang along to. It was safe in a way I hadn’t realized I’d been craving.
But it was also an escape. Because every time I pictured Reef’s face, I thought about what Jasmine had confessed, and the knot in my chest pulled tighter. I hadn’t found the words to untangle it yet, so I did the next best thing—evaded it.
If it wasn’t for work, I never would’ve left the refuge of Jasmine’s arms at all.
But charters didn’t run themselves. By the time I tied off the boat and sent the clients on their way, the sun was sinking low enough to throw a burnished glare across the marina. Gulls shrieked overhead, the smell of fish and diesel mixing thick in the humid air. Silas was already scrubbing the deck with his usual steady rhythm, brine and soap swirling into the scuppers. A couple of tourists staggered down the dock with their catch bag, grinning like they’d struck gold. It should’ve been a normal evening at the Cove.
Except Spence was sauntering toward me with Coulter at his side.
