Her chest concaves, her breathing shallows, as though she’s concentrating on each inhalation beneath my heated stare. When I lock with her gaze, I allow her to read the wicked intent in mine.
Fear has a taste, a scent lingering on the air. Intoxicating to those who feed on it. And right now, it swirls thick and tempting around Collins.
For a single heartbeat, I wonder how difficult it would be to scare her off.
The impulsive thought constricts my chest until my lungs burn. Even if I could, I’m not sure how I can simply let her vanish, not when I can’t even tear my eyes away from her. This rock begins to feel unsteady, upending me like a capsized vessel on the deepest, blackest waters.
She shivers, and I feel powerless as I lean in, claiming the space near her lips. “Don’t worry, Collins,” I say, my words falling across her mouth. “I can’t touch you.”
Her gaze darts to my gloved hand before she levels me with a meaningful look, and I’ve never wanted to defy my own words as badly as I do right this fucking second.
After a prolonged beat, where I try to count the gold bands in her iris, memorize the light pattern of freckles across her smooth cheeks, I force myself to draw away.
She tentatively crosses her arms over her chest. “Does that work both ways?”
Her question aims to explore deeper than the surface banter between us, and just the threat of her touch sparks up the column of my spine like a strike of flint.
I flex my jaw. “This isn’t a session, doctor.”
“It should be.”
A groan works free from deep in my throat, and I clench and unclench my hand, the leather strapped tight across my knuckles. The abrasive rub against my inflamed palm feels satisfying.
“The last thing I want to do is sabotage your work,” she says, referring to my earlier accusation. “I can promise you that.”
I risk another glance into her eyes, startled to find the gravity of truth held there.
Collins tilts her head. “Do you like chess?”
“I don’t hate it.”
“One game,” she offers. “If you meet with me, we don’t have to discuss anything in particular. Just play a simple match.”
She’s a clever little starling, I’ll give her that—but none of this feels simple. “That’s assuming we make it off this rock.”
And sometimes, I can be a real asshole.
“Shit,” she mutters. “You’re serious.” Her blinks come furiously as she glances around, as if only now realizing how high the ocean has risen.
I can’t resist being lured in by the pattern, attempting to count the dark fringe of her lashes every time they sweep her high cheeks. There’s a symmetry there that quiets the vicious stirring, a temptation to get lost to it.
As the celestial bodies burn in the black sky above, the ocean takes a calming breath, momentarily weary of its assault on the shore.
That weariness is reflected in the woman next to me, in the way her chest struggles to rise with every inhale, her eyes fight to remain open after each slow blink. Though hypothermia isn’t a real concern, it’s cruel to keep her out here much longer.
Expelling a lengthy sigh, I slip down from the boulder.
She watches me cautiously, panic flaring at the fear of being left alone.
The cold water rises around my waist, and I hold out my hand to her. “Come here.”
Another wave crashes, sending a spray across her face, yet she remains frozen. “I really am terrified of water.”
“I’ll carry you.”
Her gaze shifts to my hand held outstretched. There’s a weighted beat of hesitation, where she battles to leave the obvious unsaid, before she’s inching carefully toward me and slipping her trembling hand into mine.
“Where can I touch?” The unsure, breathy cadence of her question detonates between us the moment my arms wrap around her.
