Page 85 of Adrift

More quick flashes of lightning, and I take a deep breath. I’ve never liked storms. But at least we’re not on the water.

On the other side of our steamy little home, where I’ve been sleeping, is a nest of life jackets, a cushion, and a towel. The way it’s laid out, we should all be able to use it. Or at least Zane, Easton, and I. The cleanest of the towels is in the middle of the cushion too. And I have to admit that sleeping on it instead of the plastic bottom of the raft is darn appealing. Especially with the way the wind is blowing the top covering of the raft around. It’s not leaking. Not yet, at least. But it’s shaking for sure.

“Ready?” Easton pats the raft next to him, and it echoes. I can’t really see him. I’m nervous about what we’re going to do. Or not do. It’s been building each night. Our snuggling.

I swallow and begin crawling across the raft. It’s hard to be normal, let alone sexy, when you’re on all fours in what is basically a kids’ birthday party bouncy house. I inch to the other side. I don’t want to wake up Dante. I catch my foot, and it tweaks my ankle. My breath hitches, and I have to stop for a second to get the throbbing pain under control.

It’s raining so hard the moon is almost completely blocked. I’ve lived in a lot of porthole-less cabins, and I used to think of them as dark. I had no idea what dark was. With the flap now shut, I can’t see any of the guys. The last thing I want to do is hit Dante in the head with my leg.

I’m shivering. It’s nerves, though. The raft is cooler than outside, with the rain. But not cold, not at all.

Calvin said the other guys heard us this morning. But no one said a word. Not even Dante. And now I’m getting ready to bed down between Easton and Zane, again.

“Can you see us, love?” Zane asks.

“See us? Unless she’s superhuman, I’m guessing the answer is no,” Easton growls.

“I’ve got my hand out.” Zane’s voice drops. “Feel around for it.”

I wave my hands around like I’m blindfolded and playing pin the tail on the donkey. We have a marine-grade flashlight. But we’ve all agreed not to use it unless it’s an emergency, and while I don’t want to bump into Dante, it’s far from an emergency.

I make contact with Zane’s hand, and he guides me over. “Feel for the edge of the cushion, Haley.”

Tonight, lying between them feels a heck of a lot more deliberate. I snuggle down next to Easton, and Zane puts his head next to mine. “Cushion Gate solved. Dante has one, and you can have the other. Do you want it under your head or your ankle?”

“Oh, really, Dante should have both.” I’m worried about him. He acts all tough on the exterior, but he’s like a marshmallow on the inside. No, not a marshmallow—Dante would never be something so common—a Tiramisu custard. And now I’m thinking about chocolate and rum.

Zane brings me back to reality. “He’s already asleep, love. You don’t want to wake him up by giving him another cushion, do you?”

“I suppose not.” I pat down the edge of the cushion and brush along a life vest, but my hand slips from it and slides down Easton’s chest. Oh, that’s not his chest. I pull my hand back. Holy hardness. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” I just felt him up. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. He clearly doesn’t mind. My eyes are open, but it’s like I’m wearing a sleep mask in the inky blackness.

“You’re fine, Haley.” Easton chuckles. “Come on. Lie down. Do you want the cushion for your head or ankle?”

“Head.” I ease into position between the two of them. Easton at my backside pulls me to him, and I wasn’t imagining what my hand was just on. He covers me with an emergency blanket. It’s welcomed. A few long breaths and my shivering subsides.

Easton whispers in my ear, tickling the hairs on my neck. “Comfy?”

“Yes, very.” My heart’s still racing, but I am comfy. It’s remarkable what a one-inch piece of foam under part of your body and a thin emergency blanket can do. But then, maybe it’s the two attentive, attractive men staring at me that have me cozy and my heart racing.

Zane gets into position, and I lift the blanket covering his side. He’s facing me, his knees skimming along mine. And just that small contact from him has zings of need shooting off through my body.

Easton puts his arm around my waist, pulling me to him, and Zane moves along with the two of us. I’m tired—the sun and saltair do it to me anytime I go to the beach and I’m not working. But with the normal red glow of the raft gone—it’s different in the complete black—I’m invigorated and excited. Almost as excited as Easton.

Zane stirs. I make out his features, but just barely. He puts his hand on my hip. The rain thunders down. If I was back at home, I’d have my blanket pulled up over my head. My dog—or rather, my old dog—would have been under the blanket with me. Neither of us like storms.

“Are you doing okay, Little Bird? It’s a storm. It’ll pass soon.” Zane makes little circles on my hip with his thumb. It’s comforting, and it’s turning me on all at once.

And I realize while I’m telling myself I’m cozy that I’m holding myself up with tension. I take a deep breath and try to relax, but that only makes me more on edge. These two. “I know. I just don’t like storms. That’s all.”

A bolt of lightning lights up the top of the raft, illuminating it in a red glow. In a moment, I can make out Zane’s handsome face and see that Dante is still asleep on the other side of the raft.

“Storms and sharks, got it. Anything else we need to protect you from?” Zane’s tone is light. He’s laughing with me, not at me. And it makes the storm a lot less scary. “Come here. I’ll hold you.”

I move a fraction of an inch toward him, but it makes all the difference. I’m sinking into his arms. He’s a well-built man. Not as large as Calvin—more like a runner. And I bury my head in Zane’s chest. My focus is on his heartbeat. The strong thuds cover the crash of another round of thunder. It’s a few beats and then more lightning.

“One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi.” I revert to my youth.

Boom. Something hits close to us.

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