“Pretty sure we left self-control back at the cabin,” I whispered, tilting my head so he could kiss the line of my throat. He chuckled softly, and I felt the rumble of it against my back. His hands wandered—slowly, reverently—down my arms, over my hips, across the small of my back. Touches that weren’t rushed or greedy, just… intentional. Like he was memorizing the feel of me. I turned in his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist as our lips met. The kiss was slow, deep, hungry in the way quiet moments always are—the kind that doesn’t need an audience or a bed, just breath and water and want.
He held me like I was something precious, our bodies weightless in the lake, but tethered to each other by the ache that had been building between us for weeks. He shifted us, swimming toward the dock with me stillwrapped around him. The water lapped against us as he carried me, the sun casting fire across the ripples. When we reached the dock, he lifted me like I weighed nothing and set me gently on the warm wood, then pulled himself up beside me. The air kissed our wet skin as we fell together, tangled limbs, beating hearts, slick and shimmering under the golden sky.
He hovered over me, brushing damp strands of hair from my face, his expression open in a way I hadn’t seen before.
“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone the way I want you.”
I reached up, touched his cheek, and let my thumb trace the curve of his lips. “I tried fighting it, you know. You did, too. Let’s make the giving in, the wait, worth it.”
The rest of the world faded. The trees, the lake, the danger waiting back in town. For a while, there was only the heat of his skin, the soft press of lips on mine, the sunset wrapping us in gold. This wasn’t the rough, burning passion that had consumed us inside the cabin. The water had washed away the fear. The hesitation. The lies.
He made love to me like I was his goddess, and he was my priest.
When the stars took the sky and we finally went inside, we curled up in front of the fireplace, bare and warm andreal.
We didn’t talk.
We didn’t need to.
On Sunday, before we left, we were standing on the pier again. I sat between his legs, leaning against his back. He whispered in my ear, “I’m damn glad I met you. This is the happiest I’ve been in a long, long time, Vixen.”
I thought about those words over and over as we rode home, and I discovered what it felt like to feel your heart burst and break at the same time. Would he forgive me when he found out the truth?
Chapter 10
Dalton walked me to the door of my apartment on Sunday night. We lingered there, neither of us eager to end the magic of the weekend.
“Thank you for this weekend, Dalton. I’ll never forget it.”
No matter what happened—even when I returned to Charleston, even when they would come to hate me—I would cherish these moments.
The stabbing sadness in my heart must have been evident on my face because his brow furrowed. “We’ll do it again, Vixen. I promise. Whenever you want, just say the word.”
I smiled at him, and he cupped my cheek. If only that were the reason for the hurt, if only he could make it go away so easily. He kissed me softly, and I couldn’t help but lean into his touch. I had become truly addicted to the taste of him.
I jumped about ten feet in the air when my door swung violently open, and he moved in front of me protectively. But it was just Holly and Maria, whooping like a couple of children.
“It’s about damn time, really. I was starting to wonder if you were ever gonna make a move. Slacker,” Holly said, shoulder-bumped Dalton.
He protested, “She sets bikes on fire. I wasn’t about to make another unwanted pass at the pretty, crazy lady.”
I feigned innocence. “Hey, I’m right here, you know!”
He winked at me, and Maria stepped into the hallway, a glass of wine in one hand, and with the other, shooed him towards the elevator. “Go on, move it. I need some tea to go with this Chardonnay.”
He shook his head and, with one final kiss, headed for the elevator. I sighed when he disappeared from sight, and Holly pulled me into my apartment. “Girl, you are pistol-whipped!”
I took the glass of wine she offered as she sipped on her own. “Y’all, now isn’t really the time for a powwow. I’m tired! Plus, it’s almost seven at night!”
Maria curled up on my couch while Holly claimed the single armchair. Patting the empty seat next to her, Maria smiled at me. “Hermana, I done ordered us a couple of pizzas. Do you know how long it’s been since we’ve had some in-house romance? You will not deprive me of this.”
I groaned. “Pizza?”
My resolve began to crumble, and Holly’s keen eyes zoned in like a bird of prey. “Pizza… supreme, add pineapple, stuffed crust.” She wiggled her fingers at me, and I plopped dramatically on the couch next to Maria, almost spilling my wine. They had ordered my favorite, the extortionists.
“I hope it gets here soon.”
Maria squealed and leaned towards me. “Girl, spill. Where have you even been?”