Page 55 of Speechless

Apparently, this was the sign he needed. His fingers move through my hair greedily and his mouth is on mine in a possessive, seductive way that makes my toes curl. His hands trail down to squeeze my ass as he pulls me up and wraps my legs around his waist. My back is pressed flat against the closed door, Henry never once breaking the kiss.

This is . . .hot.

Somehow, he’s everything and also nothing like I’d imagined. He’s gentle and firm, tender and wild. He’s utterly intoxicating.

“I dream about this, about you.” He’s nuzzling the slope of my neck as he says it. I can feel his lashes tickle my skin, his lips barely brushing against my throat, his thumb fiddling with the bikini string on my hip. And then his mouth is back on mine and the kiss is filled with so much warmth I feel my entire body start to melt. This doesn’t feel like just a kiss. It feels like the start ofsomething. “Tell me this is real. Please?”

“It’s—” I’m suddenly pressed harder against the door, maybe a little too hard, actually . . .

“What the hell!?”

The voice comes from the other side of the door—Jayce. Henry sets me down instantly and we pull away from each other with lightning speed. The door swings open and I see Jayce staring at us, mouth agape like a fish. We may not be pressed up against each other anymore, but I can see how disheveled Henry’s shirt and hair are looking, I’m sure it’s even worse for me.

“Sorry, too much tequila, couldn’t decide on a snack. I think I’m just gonna go to bed, actually,” I murmur quickly as I make my escape.

I hear Jayce’s bewildered: “It’s only nine thirty,” but I’m already gone, grabbing Rowan, and heading upstairs to a room that isn’t mine.

* * *

I’m hiding.

I’m actually hiding in Graham’s room.

When he came up for the night, he was more than a little shocked to see me and Rowan in his bed. I told him that he couldn't ask any questions but Row and I needed to spend the night with him. In return, he gets to pick the dinner menu for a month. I’m going to overdose on red meat.

I’m still here in the morning, and he’s being surprisingly cool about this, barely inquiring at all as to why I haven’t left his room. I guess Graham just gets me, or maybe he doesn’t really care. Either way, I’m grateful. I have no idea what I’m feeling after last night. I keep going over every moment in my head. It was incredible, intense, more than any one word can describe. I can still feel Henry’s lips against my neck.

I dream about this, about you.

That kiss. I never knew kisses like that even existed.

I want to regret it, but I don’t. I can’t. I just need to figure out how to stop it from happening again, and not lose Henry in the process.

We’re eating donuts in bed, Rowan’s favorite. Graham ducked out for them while everyone else was still asleep, and now we’re starting our fifth straight episode ofBelow Deck Mediterranean. Graham and I clearly have very different tastes in men, and we’ve been fighting all day over whether the second stew should hook up with the rugged South African bosun or stay with the deckhand from New Zealand that has a few too many tattoos for my liking.

“Seriously though, what is it with you and Kiwis? You’re from Australia. Doesn’t that automatically make them less exotic?”

“Dear Lucy, you naïve little lady. Have you ever seen the All Blacks?” I often have to translate Graham’s words but, what did he just say? “Don’t look at me like that. NZ’s rugby team. You take one look at those blokes and tell me you don’t want to take a tumble with them. I’ll wait.”

I’m googling New Zealand All Blacks when we’re interrupted by loud knocking on the front door. It’s followed by a hauntingly familiar voice yelling my name. A voice I haven’t heard in months.

This cannot be happening.

“No, no way. Not possible. This isn’t happening right now.” As if to prove me wrong I hear my name again, louder this time.

“Luce, what’s going on?” Graham points to the window facing the front drive. “Do you know that bloke?”

I mouth“Jack,”too shaken to say his name aloud and Graham’s face turns stormy.

Rowan may be a lap dog, but Graham is a Doberman, ready to go to battle for me. It makes me feel brave. I may have fallen down on that surfboard hundreds of times but I’m standing now. I just had to push through the fear. I can do anything. I can face Jack.

Luckily, everyone who’s home is in the basement working and unlikely to hear what’s going on, but I also know that my luck can’t last forever, so I need to go shut him up as quickly as possible.

I head down the stairs, open the door and step onto the threshold—I do not want him inside this house. This is my sanctuary, my safe haven, my special place where nothing bad happens and no one abandons me. I won’t let him ruin that for me.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Jack has always been objectively attractive. Six feet tall, sandy blonde hair, so perfectly preppy that he could easily live inside aVineyard Vinescatalog. Nothing gives me more joy than how little I feel for him in this moment.

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