About a life among the stars where anything could happen, where the universe was so much bigger and stranger and more beautiful than anyone could imagine.
And Harper listened, her lips slightly parted, her chest rising and falling with quick breaths, eyes bright as captured starlight. She leaned forward with each new detail, drawn in, mesmerized.
She was imagining it. Imagining herself out there, among the stars.
Imagining a life where the universe was hers to explore.
And I was imagining her there too, at my side, her brilliant mind drinking in every new discovery.
I was in so so much trouble.
The storm had quieted now, leaving behind a silence that seemed to pulse with unspoken possibilities. I could hear Harper's steady breathing—a rhythm that had become as familiar to me as my own heartbeat—and beneath it, another sound. A clicking. Her teeth chattering.
She lay on her plastic float, buried under at least a dozen beach towels, but it still wasn't enough to warm her.
The temperature was dropping, a creeping cold that seeped through the walls and raised the fine scales along my arms. She wasn't like me, able to register the cold without suffering from it. The way her teeth chattered, the shiversdancing over her skin—they drew me like a magnetic pull I couldn't resist.
It was a bad idea.
A phenomenally bad idea.
I did it anyway.
I crossed the space between us in three strides. My decision was made before my mind could catalog all the reasons this was reckless, before it could remind me of boundaries and brothers and complications that tangled like thorns.
I didn't ask permission. I simply lowered myself onto the narrow float beside her, felt it shift and dip under my weight, and drew her into my arms.
She came willingly, fitting against me like she'd been designed for it, her soft breasts pressed against my chest, her head tucked beneath my chin. I wrapped myself around her, my legs bracketing hers, sharing the heat that radiated from my core.
Her shivering stopped almost immediately.
She released a sigh—soft, contented, the kind of sound that bypassed my brain entirely and went straight to something primal and possessive deep in my chest. My cock swelled, throbbing against the fabric of my pants. Her muscles relaxed, tension draining out of her as she burrowed closer, seeking more contact, more heat, more of me.
Her small fingers curled into my shirt and held on, as if subconsciously worried I might pull away, anchoring herself to me.
I buried my face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her—sweet beneath the salt and storm, still uniquely Harper—and felt something deep inside me settle and ignite simultaneously.
She was dangerous.
She was perfect.
She was mine.
I lost track of time holding her. Minutes, hours—it didn't matter. However long it was, it would never be long enough.
When she stirred against me, the tenor of her breathing shifting as consciousness returned, I discovered I didn't have the strength to let her go.
Her eyes fluttered open, meeting mine with that same unguarded warmth that had undone me so completely the night before. No fear. No hesitation. Just Harper, looking at me like I was something worth waking up to.
"Hi," she whispered, her voice rough with sleep, her fingers still clutching my shirt like a lifeline.
I couldn't speak. Words had abandoned me entirely. I could only stare at her, memorizing the way the light caught in her eyes, the flush on her cheeks, the curve of her lips.
Her hand slid from my chest to my jaw, her palm cradling my face with a tenderness that made my chest ache. She shifted in my arms, turning toward me instead of away, her body pressing closer, aligning with mine in ways that obliterated any hope of coherent thought.
"Harper," I managed, though whether it was a warning or a plea, I couldn't say.
She didn't let me finish. She closed the distance between us, rising slightly to press her lips against mine.
