Page 120 of Carrick
“I’d rather be part ofyou,” I said, letting a darker edge slip into my tone.
She blinked. Then smiled—slow, dangerous. The kind of smile that slid under your skin and stayed.
“Is that so?”
I stepped closer, close enough for the air between us to hum. “Guess you’ll have to come in and find out.”
Her head tilted, considering. Then—without breaking eye contact—she lifted her shirt.
My breath hitched.
She wasn’t teasing. Wasn’t performing.
But fuck, it didn’t matter.
Black sports bra. Low-slung shorts. Skin kissed gold by the last light. Bellamy was all soft curves and sharpened edges, fire in her eyes and no need for permission to burn. And even though I’d seen her bare before, this felt different.
Not just heat—trust.
My breath caught. My cock stirred.
She kicked off her shoes and walked to the water like it owed her something.
I followed like gravity.
The pond was colder than expected—shock slicing through the static in my head. Sully cannon-balled in with a whoop. Maddy swam laps around Jax, who floated like an academic sea otter, probably lecturing the fish.
Niko stayed dry, scanning the perimeter like a sentinel in swim trunks.
Bellamy stepped into the shallows.
No flinch. No pause. Just that same deliberate grace—water curling up her legs, waist, ribs. A siren carved in moonlight.
Then she slipped under, surfacing in a slow glide. Each stroke was fluid, unhurried, her body a lithe silhouette against the dark.
I couldn’t look away. I waded in—less grace, more urgency—cold wrapping around me like a dare.
When I reached her, she was floating. Limbs outstretched. Eyes closed. Throat bare to the stars. Her hair fanned around her like spilled ink.
And fuck, she looked like something holy.
“You’re staring,” she murmured, not opening her eyes.
“Not denying it,” I said, my voice low.
A faint smile curved her lips. “You’re not subtle.”
“Never claimed to be.”
Her eyes opened then, slow and deliberate, and locked on mine. The sharp edges I’d seen earlier had melted away, replaced by something softer, more open. Her gaze shimmered in the moonlight, like all that grief and rage had settled for a moment into something quieter. Not gone—but calm. Luminous.
“You were right. I needed this,” she said, her voice almost reverent, like it surprised her.
“I know,” I replied, and I meant it. I’d seen it in her shoulders, in the way her body had moved since the moment Rayden’s name first came up. She’d been holding on by threads.And here, in the silence and the dark and the water, she could finally breathe.
“I didn’t think I’d want it,” she added, softer this time. “These past few days, since… the apartment, it just feels like I’m a shelf without proper supports, and more and more weight is getting put on me. I feel close to breaking.”
“I know that, too.”
