The lights flicker again, longer this time. We both glance at the windows where rain is lashing down.
“We should find some candles,” I say, standing. “Or flashlights. In case we lose power.”
“There’s a box of emergency supplies in the hall closet.” She stands too, and suddenly we’re close that I can see the gold flecks in her green eyes. I could spend a lifetime staring into her eyes, and it wouldn’t be enough time.
“Top shelf,” she says, but she’s not moving, and neither am I.
We find the supplies together, our hands tangling as we both reach for the flashlight. The touch is electric, and we jerk back like we’ve been burned.
“Sorry,” she breathes.
“Don’t apologize.”
We should move. We should step back. We should do anything except stand here in the narrow hallway, close enough that I can feel her body heat, hear the hitch in her breath.
“Reed?” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“Yeah?”
“This is probably a bad idea.”
“Definitely a bad idea.”
“We should be professional.”
“Absolutely.”
But neither of us moves. The storm howls outside, the lights flicker again, and still we stand there waiting.
Then the power dies completely, plunging us into darkness.
“Shit,” Maya gasps, her hand finding my arm in the dark, fingers curling around my arm.
I flick on the flashlight; the beam cutting through the darkness to illuminate her face. She’s close enough that if I leaned down just a little…
“We should check the windows,” I say, my voice rougher than intended. “Make sure everything’s secure.”
“Right. Windows.” But her hand is still on my arm.
We move through the house together, checking locks, watching the storm rage. At each window, we stand close, her shoulder brushing mine, the darkness making everything feel more intimate, more dangerous.
“Last one,” she says at the main bedroom window.
Lightning illuminates her profile, and I clench my fists to keep from reaching for her.
“This storm is really something,” she says, but her voice trembles.
“You okay?”
“I think so. I’m not usually so jumpy.” She stops abruptly.
“You’ve said that.” Her habit of apologizing doesn’t mesh with the strong woman I’ve met, and it drives home that she has more layers than I’ll probably ever know.
Thunder explodes overhead, so loud she jumps, pressing against me instinctively. My arms come around her before I even realize what I’m doing.
I look at her, and for a heartbeat, I think she’s going to kiss me. Her eyes drop to my mouth, her body sways closer, and every cell in my body screams to throw her on the bed and show her what she does to me. It wouldn’t matter if Knox or Marlon fired me for sleeping with a client, because it would be worth it with Maya. I’m scared of how much looking at her feels like I’ve found the missing piece in my life.
“We should,” she clears her throat loudly. “We should probably try to get some sleep.”
