Page 72 of Guarded Love
"Willow." Madison nudges me. "You're supposed to sign the waiver."
"Right, sorry." I scribble my signature on the clipboard being passed around, barely reading the form. Death by rainforest would be a poetic way to go anyway.
Once everyone has signed the form, our guide leads us onto a trail and the rush of adrenaline that is already flowing through my body increases tenfold.
"This is incredible," I whisper, mostly to myself. My phone is already in my hand because I can’t not take pictures. I continue walking in awe, not really talking to anyone because what is there to say when you’re in this beautiful place?
"Watch your step here," our guide calls back as we reach a section where tree roots have broken through the path. "The ground can be slippery."
I carefully step over the roots and Madison walks beside me for a while. Eventually she walks faster so she can catch up to our guide and ask questions about the wildlife here. I don't mind. This is the kind of experience I prefer to absorb in my own bubble anyway. I keep moving, doing my best to take everything in as I go. Drops of rain start falling as we continue to move deeper into the forest. As a result, I end up throwing my hair up into a messy bun versus the low ponytail because I need to keep this hair off my neck.
The rain intensifies, quickly shifting from scattered drops to a gentle shower. I tilt my face upward and close my eyes, letting the water cool my skin.
"Glad I wore this," I murmur, glancing down at my black tank top and bikini top. At least I won't be dealing with a see-through shirt situation like poor Tyler, whose white tee is already plastered to his chest. The rain begins to pick up, and we pause to give everyone an opportunity to get their rain gear out. Water begins to stream down my face, but I can’t be bothered to take out my rain poncho yet.
"This is amazing!" I call out to no one in particular, spreading my arms wide to embrace what looks to be turning into a downpour.
"You're getting soaked," a familiar voice says behind me.
I turn and find Blaise standing there, rain dripping from his blond hair. He's close enough that I can see water droplets clinging to his eyelashes. I hate that something about the way he's looking at me makes my stomach flip.
"So are you," I point out, wiping rain from my cheek. I watch as his gaze slips from my face to my chest, and I swear everything shifts. The playful moment comes to halt as his eyeslock onto where my soaked tank top clings to my skin and I assume it is revealing the outline of my bikini underneath. The thin black fabric might as well not exist with how clingy it's become in the rain and the way he’s staring at me.
I should move. Should cross my arms. Should say something sarcastic to break whatever this is. But I don't. I just stand there, rain streaming down my body, watching him watch me.
His pupils dilate slightly and I watch as his eyes trace the curve where my bikini top dips under my shirt. When I move my hands to cover myself, it’s then I realize my nipples are as hard as pebbles. It quickly dawns on me that that is also what caught his attention. My movement causes him to finally drag his gaze back to my face.
"You should..." he starts, stops, and then starts again. "You might want to put on your rain jacket."
My heart hammers in my chest, threatening to make a grand exit. "I like the rain."
"Willow," he says my name like he’s issuing a warning.
I want to keep poking whatever ‘this’ is. Is it a wise thing to do? Nope, but am I going to do it anyway? Yep. “What? What do you want to say, Dalton?”
"That shirt is..." His eyes drop to my chest again, then snap back up. "Distracting."
I step closer because I feel more empowered due to his discomfort. I make sure that if we are being watched this looks completely innocent, but between the two of us, it’s anything but. "Is it? I hadn't noticed." I tilt my head slightly. "You seem to be noticing enough for both of us."
His jaw tightens and I can see the muscle working beneath his skin. "We should catch up with the group."
"We should," I agree, but don't move. Instead, I run my fingers through my wet hair, tucking some of the strands thatfell out of the messy bun behind my ears. "But I'm curious now. What exactly is so distracting about my shirt, Blaise?"
I have no idea what has gotten into me, but apparently I’m out of fucks to give. I don’t feel even a little bit guilty about what I’m doing. The embarrassment I felt when he turned me down years ago? Nowhere to be found.
The look he gives me could melt steel. "You know exactly what you're doing," he says.
"Do I?" I blink innocently. "Maybe I just like making you uncomfortable."
I'm playing with fire and know it. And it’s also not going to stop me.
"Don't," he says quietly.
"Don't what? Ask questions you don't want to answer?"
"Don't ask questions you don't want to hear the answers to."
"But maybe I want to hear what you’re going to say. Maybe I like it when you look at me that way. Hell, maybe I've been wondering what it would take to make you lose the control that you so carefully keep in place.”
