Page 69 of Second Tide's the Charm
“This isn’t my first tropical storm.” My pulse has picked up, and my eyes drop to the hollow of his neck, then swing back up to his freshly trimmed beard, and further, to his lips.
“But you’re out of practice,” he insists.
I lift my eyes to his. “Are you implying you could teach me a thing or two?” My chest is heaving like I’ve just run up a flight of stairs, and Adrian’s eyes drop to the bare skin exposed by the low scoop of my tank top.
His own breath is coming fast and loud in the empty room. Just us here, alone.
“If you wanted to learn,” he says. “Though I recall you have some relevant experience with snowstorms.” A wicked, knowing smile creases his cheeks. My mind flashes to the New Year’s Day blizzard that left us stranded at the airport coming back from winter break, when we had no choice but to weather the storm in a hastily-booked hotel room equipped with a jetted tub and king-size bed.
On a shaky inhale, I force myself to meet his eyes. “Are we talking about the same kind of hands-on instruction as that morning at the beach?”
His eyes darken with desire, but there’s something else there too. Restraint. Caution. “It depends. Are you asking as my friend? Or something more?”
Until now, I’ve attributed our kisses to mutual attraction and proximity, at least on his part. My own feelings are troublingly strong, but he’s never given any indication he’d want to try again. To reforge the broken bonds between us. I figured he’d been swept up in the moment, tugged under by a strong pull of nostalgia.
But the way he’s waiting on my answer, body rigid with tension, has me wondering if he’s fighting the same losing battle I am. After a moment, he steps back, depriving me of his heat. “I’ll just put away the groceries and leave you be.” He turns away, but I grab his wrist.
His eyes fly to mine, and beneath my fingertips, his pulse hammers. “Even though I’ve lived without you for so long, my heart can’t seem to get the hang of it.” The truth leaves my mouth and I don’t bother holding back. “I thought friends could work. That this could be enough.”
“Friends will never be enough for me, Hope.” He moves closer, his wrist still caught in my unsteady grip. “But if that’s all you have to give, I’ll take it, because I don’t want to live without you.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think it’s enough for me either. The wanting hasn’t stopped. And I know it’s probably ruining our chance to keep the friendship up, but I’ve kept this bottled up for so long. I’m just worried I can’t be what you need.”
“You’ve always been more than enough for me.” His confession is an echo of my own inescapable reality. A truth that doesn’t scare me anymore, not in this moment, and I let go of his wrist, throw my arms around his neck, and kiss him.
His lips part in an instant and the kiss deepens, his mouth decadent and lush, scattering my thoughts like windblown leaves. His hands are everywhere, his touch all I’ve needed and been too proud to ask for. Delicious and warm and oh—hot. His tongue is slick against mine, tempting me for more.
He walks me backward until I’m pressed between the door and his body, and he presses another openmouthed kiss to my neck, sucking as he pulls away.
“I’ve been dying to touch you here,” I say, sliding my hands down his muscled back.
“I’ve been dying to touch you anywhere.” He’s back to my mouth, my lips already plump and wet, our tongues sliding against each other. Our first two kisses were hesitant, an exploration. But now I want to claim him. I want these kisses to be indelible. Come what may, I want what’s between us to last, every part of this, every part of us. He tilts his forehead against mine, filling his lungs, and draws his hands up my waist, to my rib cage, and I arch against the door, chest heaving against his.
“You’re so sexy, Hope.”
Sexy isn’t how I seek to look. My body gets me from here to there, it’s an extension of my mind. I know a lot of people, my best friends included, who put time into their appearance, and there’s worth in it for them. But for me, sexy isn’t a benchmark. It’s a feeling, and I feel it now, with Adrian, his hands roving over my body, his eyes heavy with desire, our bodies on the same wavelength.
I lift my chin, deepening the kiss. His hands have found my wrists, thumbs circling the thin skin at the inside of my wrists, pinning me, and our mouths are the only connection I control. I take full advantage, sucking his plump lower lip between mine, reveling in his moan, a sound that drives its way straight to my core.
“Adrian.” This time it’s me who pulls away, breathless, dizzy, giddy. I tip my forehead against his sternum, pulse racing.
“Regrets?” he asks, and I look up to find his brows tugged together.
“Only for all the time we wasted not doing this,” I say, and he grins.
“We have a lot of time to make up for.” He bends toward me, but right before our lips meet, the room is plunged into darkness. The hum of appliances cuts out with a noticeable click. Power outage.
We break apart and I pick my way across the dim living room to the sliding glass door and peer out. Wind lashes tree branches and the sky is dark, but it’s impossible to tell what caused the outage.
“We should probably get out of here,” Adrian says, and I turn to find him frowning at his phone.
“The power might come back on in a few minutes.”
“Or it might not,” he says. “Radar doesn’t look great, and no work crews are going out in this.”
I’m guessing he’s right; the parking lot looks like a swamp. “You said it wasn’t that bad.”
Adrian steps up behind me, warm compared to the coolness of the windowpane. “That was before we lost power. We need to move inland. If the roads end up flooding, we don’t want to be stranded here.”
