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Silence sloshes around us for too long. It lifts his head off the back of the sofa, and I catch it. How I’m not wearing a shirt, and he’s taking mental pictures. How I’m still leaning his way, and suddenly, it’s hot as fuck in here. How when he leans forward to mirror me again, he’s moving into me, into my space, into my heart and body, and he knows it.
I always have to be careful. I can never assume a man is into me. This world tolerates, hell, it encourages men to take women without permission. And the only ones who suffer the consequences are the women who didn’t consent. But even when you just ask some men, when they act interested, violence, deadly violence, can be the outcome. That fear keeps so many hidden.
I can’t read this wrong, and mainly, it’s only my wish, which is so wrong, but something pulls Redix and me together. It’s more than attraction. It’s more than the perfect woman. It’s more than two bodies in a confined space.
I care about him. I see him. Fuck, people say we look alike, and yes, we do to an eerie degree, but it’s on the inside. We recognize each other in a way that gives me faith.
“So what do we do next?”
He’s asking about it too. It heats my blood with certainty.
And my answer is dangerous. And it would betray Cade, so I draw a breath and say, “You buy a boat today.”
He grins. “I’ve got an appointment to check out a pontoon tomorrow.”
“A pontoon? What are you? Seventy?”
He still grins. “I could make it look good.”
Desire answers from my veins, “Yes, you would.”
It’s in his eyes, too. “Sold.”
“And you’re gonna stop blaming yourself because that doesn’t look good on you. It’s bullshit.”
“Sold.” It’s relaxing his face, his broad shoulders, too.
“And everything else?” I stand up because I can’t breathe. This cabin is getting smaller, and this is getting much bigger than I can handle.
“Yeah?” He stands up, too.
The rise and fall of his chest is a foot from mine, and I swear he’s looking at me like I just pulled him from the ocean and put that breath there. Like I saved him, and he wants to thank me.
“I don’t have the answers, man, but—”
I barely finish before his lips are on mine, and his kiss is a supernova. It’s a million fucking lights ripping breath from my lungs while his lips are so perfect, aggressive and soft and grabbing at mine. The stubble on his chin scratches against mine, and I dare to search for his tongue, and he groans into my mouth when I find it.
What are we doing? What are we doing?
I couldn’t fight this current pulling me under if I wanted to because I can feel the hard planes of his body push into mine. His lips moving with mine.
And I don’t want to fight it.
“Fuck,” he mutters into my mouth, and that’s what I feel and want to do. And I’m terrified and so damn ready. His hand grabs the back of my head, and I match him, too. “Fuck,” he keeps sighing, coming up for air, and we both grab for breath before our lips dive in again, our tongues swimming together and wanting much more and what the hell are we going to do?
It’s tentative. My hand reaches for his waist, where his jeans meet his cotton shirt, and the flex of his body into mine, his cock urging hard against mine. And everything I want to do with him. Taste from him. Feel from him. My naked chest feels home brushing against his, and I moan from forgotten depths, and I can’t find any reason but one.
“Fuck.” He rips his lips from mine and huffs, “We have to stop.”
Our foreheads press together because we know why.
We love her… and this is the hottest fucking mess.
We don’t say anything. We don’t pull away, and we don’t move forward. The heat of his lips still sears across mine. My hands still touch him, and his grip is still in my hair.
“I have to tell her,” he says.
“We have to tell her.” I can never lie to her.
