Page 75 of What We Become

Apparently cutting down trees wasn’t enough to wear Milo out. It only gave him a new project.

Micah leans to my ear and murmurs, “Like Milo said, very European.”

“Nothing about this is European,” I whisper back. “This is woodland emotional support porn.”

Milo somehow hears me, or possibly knows how to read lips. “Thank you. I work very hard at my craft.”

He rises just enough to make room, water sluicing down his chest, and I have to actively not stare. Apparently near-death has not lessened my appreciation for absurdly beautiful men. If anything, it’s sharpened it.

And Knox⁠—

Jesus.

Knox in hot water looks like a fantasy women have while ovulating. All broad chest and tan skin and heavy, patient stillness. He watches me approach with that locked-door face of his, but his eyes give him away. They warm. They sharpen. They claim.

I stop at the edge of the platform and hook my fingers in the knot of my robe. “Everyone’s being weirdly quiet.”

“That,” Milo says, fingers drifting through the water, “is because we’re all trying very hard not to tackle you into the bubbles like starving wolves.”

“Speak for yourself,” Holden says.

“Oh?” Milo turns to look at him in delight. “The detective has appetites?”

“I have restraint,” Holden says. “Which is more than I can say for you.”

“You have restraint the way I have chill,” Milo fires back. “Theoretically. Unverified. Possibly a myth.”

Knox says nothing. He just watches me, and the heat in his eyes makes the steam feel redundant.

Heat blooms across my face. “Maybe I should’ve stayed inside.”

“No,” Knox says.

One word. Low. Final. It slides right through me.

Micah’s hand strokes once over the center of my back. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, baby girl. Sit on the edge. Dangle your feet. Judge them all from a safe distance. Entirely your call.”

That steadies something in me.

Not because I’m afraid of them. I’m not. But there is something in me that still startles at being seen this completely and not having to flinch.

It would be easy to make the moment about naked bodies and steam and sex and all the dangerous, glittering things we use to distract ourselves from fear. But underneath that, quieter and meaner, is the truth: taking off my clothes still feels like surrender in ways I don’t always control. Even here. Even now.

Especially now, with all the new scars and bruises still fading.

I loosen my grip on the robe tie and let out a breath. “Okay,” I say. “Nobody pounces. Nobody makes a big deal. I get in, I sit down, and if one of you splashes me in the face, I’m leaving and taking the towels with me.”

“That’s fair,” Eli says, laughter in his tone.

“Cruel, but fair,” Milo agrees.

“You want me to help you in?” Micah asks, his fingers leaving my back.

I shake my head. “I’ve got it. You get in first. Test the water for me.”

He grins and kisses my temple. “You got it.” He hooks his thumbs into the towel at his hips, lets it fall to the deck, and steps down into the water naked.

Every single thought in my head short-circuits as I watch the way the muscles in his ass move with each step. The hot water folds around his thighs, then his hips, and he hisses at the heat before turning back to me with wet dark lashes and that sweet, dangerous mouth curving at one corner.