Nothing can or will happen. It’s not a remote possibility, but her body has a mind of its own anyway, leaving her frustrated. How dare she let her reactions overtake her after everything Wade’s been through? If he had any idea that she’s been walking around this house for hours in a state of persistent arousal, he’d never trust her again.
Her guilt and self-loathing are as heavy as the frown on her lips while eyeing her cards.
“You got a shit poker face,” he says.
“Not the first time I’ve heard that.”
“That bad, huh? The cards?”
She smirks. “Oh, I should just tell you? Is that how this game works?”
He shrugs. “May as well. I can already see you got a bad hand.”
She sighs, showing him her cards and watching as his brows shoot up.
“Have you played poker before?”
“Sure. Once. I might have been tipsy at the time.”
“It’s all making sense now,” he replies. “You’ve got yourself a full house right there.”
“That’s good?”
“That’s more than good. Beat me hands down.” He tosses his own cards onto the mattress to reveal them. “Good thing we didn’t bet on anything.”
“Maybe we should. Apparently, I’m better at this than I thought.”
“We’ve got nothing to bet with unless you want my collection of flowers and they’re not up for grabs.”
He’s got three of them on his side table. One is already beginning to brown and die but the other two are still healthy as the moment they were picked, arranged in the same cup with plenty of space for more.
She lets herself smile, happy he’s found comfort in something she only hoped he’d recognize. “I don’t have much to bet with, either. Guess we’re still playing for bragging rights?”
“Guess so. We can brag to the dog. He looks pretty interested.”
The dog in question lies on his back below them, legs in the air like someone forgot how to assemble him properly.
“You did win, though…” he says softly. “I should give you something. Not that it’s any sort of gift. Or that it even makes sense. Forget it. I dunno what I’m saying.”
She doesn’t understand until he grows shy, stuttering around his words. Then she’s already so excited she can’t stop the tingle shooting up her spine. “Where?”
He doesn’t answer but his hand lifts, lingering in the air for a moment before approaching her hand curled around her knee.
She isn’t sure how to react. If she should follow his movements, offer some physical feedback, or stay completely still. Doesn’t want to make the wrong choice but then their fingertips connect and she just knows. Her hand lifts until their palms face each other and she waits. Electricity flows against her in a promise of what’s coming, then all at once their palms meet, warm and solid.
It’s a painfully slow process as their hands weave together before resting connected on the mattress between them.
It’s easy to tell he’s overwhelmed. Wade’s breathing is labored, and his pupils have dilated to twice their size. His other hand fists the bedsheets to crush a playing card in its grip.
What did they do to him, she thinks sadly. How bad could it have been that something so small triggers such a deep response?
“Just breathe,” she tells him, having to force herself not to rub her thumb over his knuckles. “It’s just me. I’ll never hurt you, you know that.”
He nods with a heavy exhale. “Dunno why know it’s so hard. I hate that it is.”
“You can let it feel however it feels. Don’t get hung up on that part, okay?”
The book she read forever ago had plenty of tips for overcoming things like a fear of spiders, heights, or claustrophobia. It never touched on this level of trauma, though, and she knows she’s taking a huge risk. It could all so easily backfire until he’s afraid to try again.
