Page 56 of Tactical Lies

“Aww, tickle monster is your favorite, too,” he said, amusement glimmering in his eyes that matched the bright summer sky above them.

“Maybe when I was five,” she shot back. She was ticklish. There were patches of scarred skin that weren't ticklish, they felt more numb than anything else, but the rest of her? Ticklish to the extreme.

“Nah, well past five, I remember we used to have lots of fun when I'd tickle you,” he said, almost wistfully.

“You were having fun, I was laughing too hard to be having fun.”

“Laughing is having fun,” he contradicted. His hands were still held up, fingers wriggling, and she couldn’t stop staring at them. As much as her skin was ticklish to most touches, Connor seemed to have the power to turn those touches from ticklish to sensual and she had no idea how he did it. When they were in bed making out and he touched her, giggling had always been the furthest thing from her mind because her body was too busy burning from the inside out with a desire that only one man could quench.

“Connor,” she warned as he advanced on her, but even to her own ears, her voice sounded breathy and needy. Like she wanted his touch, and … she did.

Last night she’d been going to ask him for more. Going to ask him to touch her, to let her touch him, to make love to her like he used to because she’d needed something to bridge the gap.

Didn't matter that her brain said it couldn’t be sex.

That sex wasn't the foundation you built a life on.

Becca knew better than most that sex could be pleasurable or it could be used as a weapon. It could be fickle and switch from one side to the other in a heartbeat.

If she wanted to be able to say yes to giving Connor a second chance, they had to do this right. They were different people now and they’d lived half a lifetime since they’d last been together. Rebuilding trust was the only way to answer his question with a yes, and yet seeing the fire in his eyes that she knew echoed what was in her own, staring at his fingers that she knew were capable of making her feel indescribable pleasure, it was hard to think with her head.

“Becca,” Connor shot back as he reached for her, hesitating before his fingers made contact, giving her an out if she truly wanted one.

But she didn't.

She craved his touch with an intensity she would never have believed if she wasn't living it right this second.

The moment his fingers touched her sides she couldn’t think at all. He was going easy on her, she knew that, in deference to her bruised ribs, but still he knew just which parts of her were the most ticklish, and he attacked them with an amused laugh that joined her own, adding to the joyful cacophony of the peaceful woods.

The more he tickled the more she squiggled.

The more she squiggled the more the canoe rocked.

The more the canoe rocked the more she realized they were going to capsize.

“Connor, we’re going to sink,” she spluttered out through bouts of giggling.

“Then we sink,” he said, his face close enough to hers that if she wanted to, she could lean up and kiss him.

She did want to.

Badly.

Whether it was a good idea or not, she wanted all of Connor. Every single part of him. Everything that used to be hers, that used to be so easy, that she had taken for granted because she’d just assumed he would always be there.

“You know how to swim so I don’t see what the big deal is,” he added, swiping his fingertips across her stomach and drawing another round of giggles from her.

What would the big deal be?

The day was warm, the water looked inviting, and Connor was right, they both knew how to swim.

She had to let go and stop trying to control every aspect of her life because the truth was she couldn’t. The last few days had drilled that into her. The answer to dealing with her trauma wasn't trying to micromanage every part of her life so it remained under her control, it was accepting that life was never under control. That made it terrifying, but it also made it beautiful because unpredictability could bring fun and playfulness. Without both, what was the point of living?

Giving in to the moment, she stopped holding back and let her laugh ring free as Connor’s fingers continued to tickle her. Their laughs seemed to dance together, joining as one, and when the inevitable happened and they both landed with a splash in the cool water, it only drew another laugh from her lips as the river enveloped her.

Before she even had a chance to think about swimming up to the surface, just a foot or two above her head, Connor’s arms were around her, bringing her up alongside him.

He’d been there for her.

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