Page 56 of Chasing Clouds

The sheet is around my waist, and I’m wearing just a tank top and a pair of underwear. His eyes drift over my hair, my face, my shoulders, my chest, and down to my hips. It feels good to have his eyes on me, so I do the same to him. Those boxer briefs hug every muscle and indentation perfectly.

Tearing his gaze away, he groans, “Probably best if you don’t, princess.”

I smile at his blatant struggle with self-control, and as I slide back under the covers, he slips on a pair of workout shorts, a T-shirt, and his running shoes. He goes into the bathroom but leaves the door cracked. I listen as he brushes his teeth and gets ready to go. I can’t help but wonder when we got so comfortable with each other that it’s not even a big deal to leave the bathroom door open. Maybe we’ve been this way from day one and I just didn’t realize it. Maybe I like us this way just a little too much.

Walking back into the room, he comes to stand next to the bed.

“You good while I’m out?” He runs his fingers along the length of my arm.

“Yep.” I want to beg him to come back quickly—or better yet, stay—but that’s ridiculous. We’ve been spending so much time together as it is, and he probably needs some to himself. So, I just smile, and he smiles back before he’s out the bedroom door.

Letting out a deep sigh, my eyes wander over to the clothes he kicked off last night, to his bag, which he’s placed on the overstuffed chair in the corner. I feel guilty that we’re here; I feel guilty about so many things. He really had no idea what he was signing up for when he agreed to this, and I can’t help but wonder what he thinks about it all, if he regrets it.

I can see how most anyone would think we’re running from him, from them, and I guess technically we are, but it’s hard to explain why to someone who hasn’t gone through years of what I have. I’m not afraid of Patrick, and I’m not afraid of my father. They aren’t violent people, just manipulative, and whether they like it or not, they’re going to have to live with who I am and who I want to be, or they can live without me.

Wandering down to the kitchen, I pause, as right there in the middle of the island is another paper plane. It’s different from the first one he gave me, but it looks equally complicated in the way it’s folded, and I love it just as much. I’m touched that he wanted to give me something. Picking it up, I cautiously bring it to my chest and hug it. It’s so simple, but coming from him, it means the world.

Smelling the coffee Reid thought to brew before he left, I pour myself a cup, retrieve my airplane, and find my way to the deck on the second level. There are two, one off of a loft area between the bedrooms, and one off of Ali’s room. From here, I can see over the small dunes and down to the water. The beach is quiet, the water calm and flat. Other than a few people jogging up and down, it’s relatively empty, and I really like it. This was the perfect place to come, and I know by the time we leave here, I’ll be ready to move on to the next chapter of my life.

About an hour later, the front door opens and Reid calls my name.

“Up here, on the deck.”

I hear him banging around in the kitchen and then he thunders up the stairs, taking two at a time. Plopping down in the lounge chair next to me, he guzzles a large glass of water.

“What?” He eyes me over the rim as I stare.

“What do you mean, what? It’s not fair that you look like this”—I wave my hand at him—“after working out like you just did.” His hair is wet, his skin is all dewy, his shirt is plastered to his chest, and I swear his muscles look bigger than they did before he left. He looks so good I feel awkward sitting next to him.

He shoots me a cocky grin and I roll my eyes.

“I see you found your plane.” He eyes it sitting on the little table next to me.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Well, I can’t really have you calling this a honeymoon without giving you something to remember it by,” he says, slightly sheepish.

His thoughtfulness has my heart fluttering. I pick it up and put it on my lap.

“I love it, I really do.”

He gives me a closed-mouth smile, green eyes bright, and runs his hand through his hair.

“How about I take a shower, we get dressed, and then we head off the island to a big box store and pick up things we might need?”

“Like food?” I grin at him.

“Always food.” He smirks back. “But I was thinking more like sunblock and maybe a new hat for you. I like your skin the way it is. If it turns pink, it needs to be because of me.”

A blush burns through my cheeks at his words and he lights up.

“Kind of like that,” he states, all pleased with himself as he leans over and runs his finger down the side of my face.

“Well, if I’m getting a hat then so are you—a big one to cover that big head of yours. Also, it’ll help to disguise you from all your adoring fans.”

“I don’t have adoring fans.” He looks at me like I’m crazy.

“Seriously? Have you been on social media? There are at least a dozen fan-made Instagram pages dedicated just to you, and your hashtags are out of control.”