“What about from the front?” she asks. “If someone grabs both wrists?”
I take both her wrists in my hands, standing close enough that the water ripples between us.
“Same principle. Circle your arms up and out, breaking at the thumbs.” I guide her through it once. “Try it.”
She does, and the motion brings her hands up and over, breaking my grip. But instead of pulling away, she catches my wrists, reversing the hold.
“Like that?”
Her face is inches from mine. Those whiskey-brown eyes are molten in the pool lights, lips parted, chest rising and falling with quick breaths.
“Yeah.” My voice comes out gravel-rough. “Just like that.”
Neither of us moves.
The water laps gently around us. Her pulse hammers visibly in her throat.
“Spence...”
“I know.”
“This was supposed to be a distraction.”
“Worst plan I ever had.”
She releases my wrists, but doesn't step back. Instead, her hands slide up my forearms, over my biceps, across my shoulders.
“Maybe we should go back to just swimming.”
“Maybe.”
Still neither of us moves.
Her fingers trace the edge of my tattoo—the one that covers the scar on my shoulder. “Does it hurt?”
“Not anymore.”
“What happened?”
“Knife fight in Yemen. Long time ago.”
Her touch gentles, tracing the full length of the scar under the ink. “You've been through so much.”
“So have you.”
“We're a pair, aren't we?”
“Yeah.” I catch her hand, pressing it flat against my chest where my heart is trying to break through my ribs. “We are.”
She rises on her toes, and I know what's coming. Know I should stop it. Know I won't.
“Your brotherwillkill me.”
“Probably.”
Her mouth is a breath away from mine.
“Liberty—”
