Page 34 of The Cherry Blossom Boathouse

A laugh rumbled up from his chest. “That’s fine,” he said, his thumb ghosting over her knuckles, unwilling to let go of her hand. “I’ll keep you steady.”

As they crossed back toward the wooden dance platform, Luke was acutely aware of the eyes of the townspeople on them. Townspeople who’d known him his whole life, who’d watched him retreat into himself after his ma left, then again when his grandparents and pa died…and even further still after Claire left. He could practically feel the weight of their expectations, their hopes.

Normally, that kind of attention would have him heading for his boat, eager to escape to the solitude of open water. But tonight, with Sophie’s hand in his, Luke found he didn’t give a damn what anyone thought.

Because when they reached that dance floor and he pulled her into his arms, he knew with absolute certainty he was exactly where he was supposed to be. Her body fit against his like she’d been made for him, soft where he was hard, yielding where he was firm.

The hunger building in him was unrelenting now, a bone-deep need that had nothing to do with simple attraction and everything to do with the way she challenged him, surprised him, made him want to be worthy of those admiring looks she gave his work.

Easy, he warned himself as Sophie’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, her body swaying with his to the music. She’s not yours to take.

But as her head tipped back to look up at him, moonlight catching in her dark curls, Luke knew he was fighting a losing battle. Solace Lake had carved its path through these hills over countless years, shaping everything in its path to its will. What was happening between him and Sophie felt just as unstoppable, just as elemental.

The thought he’d had earlier came back to him: Let me be what she needs, what she wants.

This time, he couldn’t fight it. Hell, he didn’t want to anymore. He just needed to be real with himself. He wanted Sophie. He needed her. No matter the past, now was what mattered.

For the first time in years, Luke Rhodes didn’t want to fight the current. He wanted to surrender to it completely.

Thirteen

Sophie

Sophie had never understood the phrase “weak at the knees” before. It had always seemed like a romantic cliché, something invented by writers who needed to convey desire without saying “suddenly horny.” But as Luke’s arm slid around her waist, pulling her firmly against him as they began to dance, her knees actually went weak.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice a low rumble she could feel through her rib cage.

“Fine,” she managed, though “fine” was a laughable understatement. She was experiencing a level of physical attraction that made the BookTok-famous scenes in Icebreaker read like a church pamphlet. “Just concentrating on not stepping on your feet.”

That wasn’t a lie. She was a terrible dancer. But that made up only about two percent of her thoughts. The other ninety-eight percent was devoted to cataloging every point of contact between their bodies. His large hand engulfing hers completely. The solid wall of his chest beneath her palm. The way his thigh occasionally brushed against hers as they moved to the music. The slight stubble along his jaw that she desperately wanted to feel against her skin.

In short, Sophie Bennett was losing her mind.

“Relax,” Luke murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “Just follow my lead.”

Easy for him to say. The man moved with the laidback confidence of someone completely at home in his body, a contrast to her own awkward attempt to remember how dancing worked. But as the music continued, Sophie found herself beginning to match his rhythm, her body softening against his.

That was when she felt it. The unmistakable evidence that Luke Rhodes was affected by their proximity every bit as much as she was. The hard press of him against her hip sent a wave of heat washing through her so intense she nearly gasped. Her eyes shot up to his face, where she found his gaze dark and hungry, a muscle working in his jaw like he was fighting for control.

Clearly noticing it too, he moved to put some distance between them.

“Don’t,” she whispered before she could think better of it, her fingers tightening on his shoulder.

Something flared in his eyes at that. A heat that matched the inferno building inside her. His hand at her waist slid imperceptibly lower, drawing her more firmly against him, and this time Sophie couldn’t suppress the small sound that escaped her lips.

His eyes dropped to her mouth, lingered there with such naked want that Sophie felt her lips tingle in anticipation.

Around them, the festival continued in full swing. Lanterns still drifted across the lake, sending wavering reflections across the water’s surface. People laughed and danced, clinked glasses, shared stories. But it all seemed to fade into background noise, the world narrowing to just the two of them moving together under the cherry blossom canopy.

“I shouldn’t want this,” Luke said, his voice rough with restraint.

“Want what?” Sophie asked, holding her breath.

“You.”

Her breath escaped. There. She hadn’t imagined it. This visceral connection.

“Why not?” Sophie asked, surprising herself with her boldness.