“Yeah. Just wanted to check on the boat.”
He comes up next to me, looking out the window. “Still there.”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat and wonder if I’ve passed Harper’s concussion protocols thoroughly enough that I can grab one of those drinks Mr. Morgan is paying for downstairs.
“You sure you’re not hiding up here so you don’t have to explain your atrocious charades skills to everyone else?”
I laugh in spite of myself. “Youknew what I was going for.”
“You could have made finger puppets. Shadow? Seriously?”
“Who came up with those anyway? They were terrible. Isn’t charades supposed to be like movie titles or something?”
“But you don’t know movie titles,” he says, making me laugh again.
“Yeah, that’s fair.”
We watch the rain come down, leaving silver trails on the glass. I start when a finger brushes the side of my head.
“Sorry,” he says. “You’re really okay?”
“Nothing a few more days and some sleep won’t fix.” I go to touch the cut and brush against David’s fingers instead. We both freeze, and the drum of raindrops on the window matches the drumming of my heart in my chest.
My throat’s still dry, and we’re standing less than a window’s width apart. David’s shirt has a piece of lint on it, and I reach unsteadily for it, only to stop halfway when his breath catches and his whole frame goes still.
He’s so close. So tall. I rest my fingertips against his chest, and he’s warm beneath the soft cotton.
It feels like it takes forever to get my gaze to go from his torso up to his chin, then farther up until I find his lips. His stubble has gotten thicker over the last few days, shadowing his jaw and framing his mouth.
“Jack.”
It would only take the gentlest puff of air to stop me as I lean in—to remind me why this is a bad idea—but I don’t feel anything. Just the hungry pull toward him that’s been there since the first time he stepped onto my boat.
His breathing quickens in the second before our lips meet, then he goes completely still again. I said no before, and he’s waiting, letting me call the shots. The hesitation and the anticipation are brutal.
David’s mouth quivers under mine, then his whole body seems to melt as he kisses me back. I put my hands on his sides and, as he steps toward me, grab fistfuls of his shirt to pull him in closer.
I said I didn’t want this, but I was lying. Up here, alone and out of view, I want this very much.
He moans softly as I nose against his stubble. He smells like mint and leather—probably some fancy soap they’ve stocked in his room. It feels like forever before he finally touches me, but then he wraps his long arms around my back and closes the last few inches between us.
“Jack,” he says again, and I can’t tell if there’s more to the thought or if he wants to make sure he has my attention, which he absolutely does. I catch his bottom lip with my teeth, and David growls as he presses his hips against mine.
The lights come back on with a pop and a hum that has us both stumbling back. Downstairs, a cheer comes up from the bar. We’re still alone, and it would be easy enough to pick up where we left off, but something doesn’t feel the same in the bright light.
“You okay?” he asks, and I should ask him the same. He’s breathing hard, and part of his shirt is stuffed into the waistband of his jeans.
I try to ground myself back in reality, but it’s hard when David throws a quick glance around us before he steps into my space again and drops his head so his lips are right by my ear.
“You changed your mind?”
I nod jerkily. This close, I can’t think of why I said no in the first place.
“Tomorrow? We’ll take the boat out?” His voice is soft and hopeful, and I can’t help it when I press my thigh between his legs and let him grind up against me.
“Tomorrow,” I say. I both do and don’t know what I’ve agreed to, but the smell of him, the heat of his body so close to mine... I guess we’ll find out.
Tomorrow.
