Page 53 of The Maine Event

“She was,” he agrees, his voice quieter now. “And stubborn. God, was she stubborn. Once she got an idea in her head, nothing could make her change it. One time she decided she was going to build Chloe a treehouse—even though she’d never built so much as a birdhouse before. I offered to help, but she insisted it was something she needed to do herself. Three months later, it was done—slightly crooked and nowhere near as high off the ground as she planned, but Chloe adored it.”

I can’t help but laugh at the mental image. “Sounds like she was determined.”

Dan’s smile turns soft and a little sad. “Yeah. She always said that just because something’s hard doesn’t mean it’s not worth doing.”

There’s a lump in my throat that I can’t quite swallow. I reach out, placing a hand on his arm.

“She sounds amazing. Chloe’s lucky to have had a mom like that.”

He glances down at my hand, and for a moment I think he might pull away, but he doesn’t.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “And I guess that’s why it scares me, sometimes. How fast she’s growing up. I don’t want to… I don’t know… let her down. Or make her feel like she’s alone.”

“You won’t,” I say gently. “You’re doing great with her. Really. And I think Rebecca would be proud of you. I wish I could have met her.”

“Me too.” His thumb gently traces circles on the back of my hand, sending a shiver up my arm. “But in a way, I feel like she brought you here, to this moment. Is that crazy?”

My heart skips a beat at his words, at the implication behind them. “No, not crazy at all.”

Dan takes a step closer, his other hand coming up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His touch lingers, his fingertips grazing my cheek.

“Rachel, I…” His eyes search mine.

The air feels electric, charged with unspoken desire. I know we’re on the edge of something big, something that could change everything. And even though a part of me is terrified, I don’t want to run from it anymore.

Dan’s hand cups my cheek, his thumb brushing over my lips. I lean into his touch, my eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When I open them again, he’s so close I can feel his breath on my skin.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion.

Instead, I move toward him, pressing my lips to his in a passionate kiss. Dan responds immediately, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me flush against him. I melt into the embrace, losing myself in the sensation of his mouth moving against mine.

The kiss deepens, growing more urgent. My hands slide into his hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands. Dan’s hands roam my back, his touch leaving trails of heat through the fabric of my blouse. I arch into him, craving more contact, more of him.

We stumble backwards until my back hits the wall of the boathouse. Dan’s lips leave mine to blaze a trail down my neck, his teeth grazing my pulse point. I gasp, my head falling back to give him better access.

Fumbling fingers work at the buttons of my blouse, and then it’s falling open, exposing my lace-clad breasts. Dan’s hands skim up my ribcage, cupping me through the delicate fabric. I moan, the sound lost in another searing kiss.

He reaches behind me, unclasping my bra with deft fingers. It joins my blouse on the floor, leaving me bare before him. For a moment, he just stares, his gaze heated and reverent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, before dipping his head to place open-mouthed kisses along my collarbone, my shoulder.

I’m lost in a haze of sensation, my world narrowed down to Dan’s hands and mouth on my skin. Nothing else exists outside of this moment, this connection blazing between us. I want to drown in it, surrender completely to the desire coursing through my veins.

I slip my hands beneath his shirt, exploring the planes of his back, the flexing muscles. I want to touch every inch of him, map his body with my fingertips—to be the cause of more of those shudders. Dan groans against my skin as my nails rake lightly down his spine.

We’re a tangle of desperate touches and heated kisses, years of pent-up longing pouring out of us. The intensity is overwhelming, and exhilarating. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want him right now.

Dan’s hands skim lower, toying with the hem of my skirt. I whimper, arching into him, silently begging for more. His fingers raise the fabric and…

I reach for Dan’s belt, fumbling with the buckle in my haste. He pulls back just enough to help, undoing his pants and lettingthem drop to the floor. I can see the evidence of his arousal straining against his boxers, and my mouth goes dry.

With shaking hands, I hook my fingers in the waistband and tug, freeing him. He hisses as I wrap my fingers around him, giving an experimental stroke. The velvety smooth skin is hot against my palm, and I marvel at the weight of him in my hand.

“Rachel,” he gasps, his hips jerking involuntarily as I stroke him again, firmer this time.

Emboldened by his reaction, I find a rhythm, reveling in the soft groans and muttered praises falling from his lips. He feels incredible, and knowing that I’m the one making him feel this way is intoxicating.

Dan’s hands grip my hips, his fingers digging into my skin as he tries to maintain control. I can tell he’s close to the edge, his breathing ragged and his muscles taut. Part of me wants to push him over, to watch him come undone at my touch.

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