Page 73 of You Owe Me

I brush the hair off her forehead. “I know.”

And I do.

Even when she’s floating.

Even when she’s drowning.

Especially when she’s both.

She reaches out slowly, fingers brushing the curve of my forearm. Her eyes drop to my chest—still bare, still damp with sweat and balcony humidity.

“You didn’t have to actually strip, you know,” she whispers, but there’s no mockery left in her voice.

“Pretty sure you threatened me with emotional terrorism if I didn’t.”

Her lips twitch.

Then she shifts.

Pulls herself upright in the kiddie pool with all the grace of a drunken sea lion and scoots toward the edge until her knees bump the rim. Her eyes lock on mine as she lifts herself slightly onto her knees, wet hands trailing up my ribs.

“I need you to know something.” Her breath fans warmth across my chest.

“Ainsley—”

She leans in and presses a soft kiss to the center of my sternum. Her lips are cold from the water, but the heat that follows roars through me like a fuse lit at both ends.

Another kiss, just below.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

Another, lower, right above my abs.

“I’m so sorry.”

Her voice cracks. She’s not drunk now—not in the way that matters. This part? This is real.

She presses her forehead against my chest, both hands splayed over my ribs, like she’s trying to memorize the rhythm of my heartbeat.

“I don’t want to mess this up.” Her voice is barely a breath. “But I think I already have.”

I wrap my arms around her, careful not to pull too tight, even though that’s all I want to do.

“You haven’t.”

She doesn’t answer right away.

She just stays there, lips parted against my skin, breath shaky. Her fingers tremble slightly as they trace over the edges of a scar she doesn’t know the origin of yet. She’s not asking questions. Not tonight.

She kisses the center of my chest again, softer this time. Slower.

Then the top of one ab.

Then another.

“You’re ridiculous,” I murmur, trying to play it off, to slow the rising tide of emotions and arousal and heartache tangling together like a noose.

She looks up at me.

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