Page 95 of Silent Shadows

The kiss I haven't stopped thinking about.

The way my body seems to recognize him before the rest of me catches up.

The stupidly embarrassing amount of time I've spent wondering what his hands would feel like on my body.

I bite back a smile. “Complicated?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I want you to say it.”

He looks completely scandalized. “You’re enjoying this entirely too much.”

“Maybe.”

Thunder shakes the cabin again.

Miles sighs dramatically like a man being led to execution before finally standing.

“Okay,” he mutters. “But if one of us falls off this thing, that’s between us and God.”

I laugh and shift sideways to make room.

The cot is aggressively narrow. Like it was designed to facilitate awkward tension between two people who want to not want each other.

I think it’s working.

Miles tucks his glasses into his pack, turns the lantern off, and settles gingerly beside me with approximately half an inch of space between our bodies and enough tension to power a small city.

We stare at the ceiling, neither of us speaking right away.

Rain pounds against the roof overhead.

And every single inch of me is aware of every single inch of him.

His hand brushing mine accidentally.

The warmth of his body radiating toward mine.

The cedar-smoke scent of him enveloping me.

This is torture.

Actual torture.

“You’re thinking too loud,” I murmur.

“What does that even mean?” He asks in the dark.

“It means I can physically feel you overprocessing.”

“I’m trying to be respectful.”

“You’re trying not to combust.”

He chokes softly beside me.

I grin into the darkness. “Just…don’t be weird. It’s for survival.”