Page 70 of Head Under Water

I remember the shifting weight outside my door just now. The pacing footsteps as he checked the other doors before he reached mine. The way he stormed away once he’d found me, then returned—decision made.

Something dangerously close to relief swims through my bloodstream.

I don’t dare speak. Don’t dare say his name. It can’t be real. It just can’t be.

I drop my hand away from him, and he steps closer until one of his legs brushes mine. He pulls it back like I’m a scorching flame. He’s so close I can hear every breath that leaves his lips, feel the warmth on my chest, my cheeks.

I tilt my mouth up toward his slowly.

I should stop this.

I should call him out.

I should leave.

But no. It’s not Will. He’s just haunting me here. Will wouldn’t do this. I’m imagining things.

A palm hovers in the air near my elbow, then slides slowly up my arm, inches separating our skin, almost like he’s afraid to touch me.

My entire body pulses with heat and electricity.

I can hardly breathe. I’m going to combust.

There. Lightning strikes when I finally feel his touch. His finger and thumb grip my chin, tilting my face up. Hot breath hits my neck, and there’s a long inhale like he’s…smelling me?

That shouldn’t turn me on, but my god, it does. Is he checking that I’m who he wants me to be?

Does he have my scent memorized the way I have his?

He pulls back just slightly. His thumb massages the divot in my chin. His mouth hovers above mine. Not touching. Not yet. But so close it burns.

He’s waiting. He’s giving me an out.

“Say yes.” His voice is a low rumble, rough and almost angry.

It’s him.

Fire shoots through my veins, and I tremble. This is unmistakably Will.

He’s masking his tone, forcing it into a gravelly whisper, fully believing the pitch-black and the rules of this game are keeping his secret safe.

He doesn’t think I know.

I don’t say anything. I’m not sure I can. Instead, I give the slightest nod of my head.

That’s all he needs.

He doesn’t wait. His mouth crashes into mine like it’s simultaneously killing him and bringing him back to life.

The most intoxicating, devastating surrender.

Together, we take quick, animal steps backward, mouths connected, hands clawing. We war over our exploration, searching and claiming each new piece of territory.

He’s all hard lines and taut, demanding muscles—even more than I expected. My back slams against the wall. It should hurt, but I can’t feel anything except flames hotter than the bonfire raging inside me.

I am pure wreckage in his angry tide.

His hands cup my face desperately, as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go. His kisses are hot and torturous, taking my mouth over and over again. His full body is involved in the way he kisses, one thumb prying my mouth open, the other hand controlling my head, turning me this way and that, like he can’t get enough of me, like he needs everything I can give him.