Page 41 of Dreadful

The laugh that escapes me is completely involuntary—my head falls back toward the water and the sun finds my face all at once, and I’m laughing in a way that feels almost effervescent, like something bright and carbonated has gotten loose under my skin and can’t find its way back out.

“Are you hungry, Gage?”

He drops his lips to the line of my throat. “Yeah, shortcake, I am.”

“They keep getting worse.” I’m still smiling when I say it. “And somehow better.”

“Mm.” His hand slides into my hair, tilting my head back up. He takes his time about it—open-mouthed kisses dragged up my neck, over my jaw, until he stops right at the corner of my mouth. My lips part before I’ve made any decision about it.

“How about I just call you mine?”

I close the last inch myself.

His mouth is warm and patient, moving over mine with a confidence that feels earned. We stay like that for long minutes, trading slow, deep kisses that taste like chlorine and sun-warmed skin.

My hips move against his of their own accord, a slow, circular rhythm that has him groaning into my mouth. I can feel the hard length of him through our swimsuits, a persistent pressure against my thigh that makes my breath catch. His hands slide from my waist to the small of my back, pressing me closer as the kiss deepens, then gentles, then deepens again. The water laps around us, cooling where our skin isn't touching, but between us everything is heat and want and the slow, building ache of not enough.

We kiss until my lips feel swollen and my thoughts go quiet, until the only thing that exists is the taste of him and the feel of his hands on my skin and the way our bodies fit together in the water.

FIFTEEN

BELLAMY

We drift away from the wall and back into the middle of the pool. He pulls me through it in slow, loose circles, one hand loosely around my wrist. I float on my back at some point, his grip the only anchor, staring up at a sky that’s gone pale and hazy with the afternoon. The water fills my ears. The world goes quiet.

I could stay here.

It’s a dangerous thought. One that has no business paddling around my subconscious.

I’m watching a cloud move when I hear it—two voices, low and clipped. I right myself in the water and watch as Cruz drops into the chair.

Rafe rolls his neck once, slow and deliberate, his gaze fixed on the water. On me. My stomach tightens at the look on his face—like he’s already decided exactly how this is going to go.

He holds my stare as he fists the collar of his shirt and pulls it off in one clean motion. The rest follows without ceremony, dropped on a chair like a period at the end of a sentence. Then he dives.

I feel him before I see him—a shift in the water, a sudden coolness against my legs, then the sure grip of his arms locking around my waist from below. The world tilts. I suck in a breath just before he takes us under.

Everything goes quiet. Blue weight and the solid press of his body against mine. For a second it’s just us, suspended where no one else can reach.

We break the surface a few feet from Gage. Rafe turns me effortlessly, swimming us backward until my spine meets the pool wall. Then he’s just—there. Chest to chest, his hands settling low on my hips like brands.

He shakes his head once, sending droplets scattering across my collarbones. Water slides down the hard lines of his shoulders.

I can’t help the smile that tugs at my mouth. “Quite the entrance.”

He looks at me for one heartbeat—just one—then his hand comes up to cup my jaw, thumb pressing into my chin to tilt my face up. And he kisses me.

His mouth moves over mine with a focused possession that makes my thoughts go sideways, and I feel myself give in almost immediately. Faster than I mean to—faster than I’d like to admit.

My fingers tighten at the back of his neck as the tension Gage spent the last hour building finds somewhere to go. Rafe makes a low sound when he feels it. His hands drag down over my hips, my thighs, back up again, slow and deliberate, like he’s mapping every place Gage touched and deciding what’s his.

His fingers find the edge of my bikini bottoms, toying with the edge.

I hold my breath, anticipation tingling in my fingertips.

Then he moves the fabric aside and slides two fingers inside me.

An involuntary sound spills from me—lust and shock knotted together. It breaks the kiss open, and Gage’s palm is at my jaw, angling my face toward his, and swallowing every inch of it.