They made their way out of the water, but she was barely aware of the steps, or the rain now falling steadily around them. Her brain was too busy trying to navigate a way out of this new awkwardness to pay attention to their journey up the stairs and to the house.
“I’m going to go upstairs and change,” he murmured as they entered the foyer. Then he turned to her. “Are you okay?”
Was she okay? Absolutely not. But she was so lost as to what that meant that she could only nod dumbly.
He didn’t seem to believe her, lingering another moment before he sighed and disappeared up the stairs.
Wait!she wanted to say. She was only just beginning to realize how much she had missed his arms around her body, his lips against hers. But now he seemed intent on forcing them back to that place they had existed in all week, the precarious limbo between friendship and so much more. And she wanted more. She needed it.
She hadn’t moved when he returned a few minutes later. His wetsuit was gone, replaced by a pair of sweatpants and a black hooded sweatshirt.
His brow was furrowed as he stared at where she stood in the center of his foyer, her purple wetsuit dripping onto the floor. Then a flash of recognition as he seemed to realize his mistake. “Shit, your clothes are in your truck.”
She blinked. Were they? She hadn’t even gotten that far. All she knew was that she had to say something, anything, to fix this. “It’s okay. I don’t need—”
“No. I’ll get them.”
His hand was on the doorknob before she could reply, before she could say that she didn’t care about clothes or wetsuits or…
“Stop!” she yelled as she reached out, grabbing his wrist.
He paused, turning enough to look down at her fingers.
“I’m a tool!” It came out before she could stop herself, and she winced. “I mean, I don’t mind being a tool.”
He didn’t move. “Excuse me?”
She shook her head as she tried to organize her thoughts. “When you came to the bakery that day, after you kissed me, I told you I wouldn’t be a tool you use to work out your issues… but I didn’t mean it. Or maybe I did mean it, but that was only because I thought I hated you. I didn’t even really know you, though. And now that I do…” She paused. “We’re so similar, Will. We’ve both been so careful for so long and we hate feeling out of control. But I think that feeling might be exactly why we can’t stay away fromeach other. It’s why you said you hated needing me, but it’s also why I didn’t tell you that I needed you, too. I still do.”
He didn’t reply, only stared at her as a muscle in his jaw ticked.
Oh God. Had she completely misread the situation?
“I know I told you I never wanted anything to happen between us. And you told me in that voicemail that you were over it, but…” Her voice faded into silence.
He let out a long breath, his gaze hard as he stared down at her. “Do you really think I ever stopped needing you?”
She blinked. “But you said—”
“I lied.”
His hand came up to push her wet hair from her face as his mouth descended to hers. The kiss was hungry and deep, their tongues clashing as he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her body so hard against his that she almost couldn’t breathe.
The rational part of her brain knew they had to talk. There was a bigger discussion to have here, one that probably included things like expectations or something. But she couldn’t consider anything like that right now. This already felt fragile, like it would fall apart all over again if either one of them stopped.
She tightened her grip around his shoulders and deepened the kiss. It was so overwhelming she barely registered when her body suddenly became weightless as he lifted her up and her legs slotted around his waist. He took a step forward toward the stairs, his mouth still on hers, desperate and wet, but then her hands found his hair, pulling at the strands, and it was like he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. A deep, guttural sound left his throat, then he lowered them both to the floor, landing on his knees with her body still wrapped around him.
God, only a few hours ago she had been terrified of never knowing the feel of him against her skin again. But right now,covered in salt water and sand, with the rain and the thunder outside punctuating every kiss, every touch, she couldn’t comprehend being anywhere else.
He held her weight on his thighs, her legs still around his hips as her fingers dove down his back, yanking at his sweatshirt, clumsily trying to remove the layers that separated them. He smiled against her lips, then used one hand to pull it up over his head and throw it across the room. Then his arms were around her again, his mouth demanding hers, even as his hands found the wetsuit zipper on her back and pulled it down, peeling it from her shoulders and arms. He lowered her down on the soft rug as he roughly pulled the soaking neoprene from her legs, hardly looking at her bare skin before he was kissing her again, his arms caging her in as she arched up, nipping at his mouth, his jaw, his neck. His hands were everywhere, touching, holding, demanding, almost like he was as lost in this as she was.
Then he stilled, his forehead resting against hers. “Shit.”
“What?” she breathed.
“I don’t… I don’t have anything here.”
“What are you talking about? You have everything here. You even have that portable water thing in the shed.”
