Page 34 of Adrift

His grip tightens like a steel cuff around my wrist, betraying his gritted words. “I’m fine.”

I nod, not knowing if he can actually see me. My face is no more than a few centimeters from his, my breath caressing his skin. “Okay,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to check on you.”

He relaxes a little, though he doesn’t let go of my wrist. Neither one of us makes an effort to move as we search each other’s eyes. “Are you . . .. Do you want to talk about it?”

His jaw hardens below my hand. “No.”

“Okay.” My nerves tingle throughout my body and I can’t stop myself from saying more. I hate this quality about myself, but it’s as if the only way to control my anxious heart rate is to keep babbling, my words serving as a pressure valve for my damn brain. “Because when I have a nightmare, it helps if I talk about it. It makes it less real and usually, I never have the same dream again.”

“It won’t make it less real.”

I nod again, twisting my wrist in his grip. “Okay. Well, I’m here if you change your mind. I was just going to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.”

He loosens his hold, and I notice a surprised scowl between his brows as he watches his hand release mine, as if he just realized he was holding it.

I take a few steps back, watching him lay back on his pillow, before turning and rushing out of the room. With my heart in my throat, I quietly make my way down the stairs, holding the railing to keep myself upright. I swear, my legs feel like stilts.

In the kitchen, I swing open the fridge door, taking a moment of reprieve to let the cool air wash over my tingly skin. “Holy crapola.” I close my eyes for a moment, trying to center myself again. “Breathe. Just breathe.”

The first gulp of water down my parched throat feels like an elixir. With my hip against the center island, I take another gulp. Why are my hands trembling? Just nerves. It’s fine. Everything is fine.

I saw Darian’s chest.

Not a big deal. I couldn’t even see that well.

It looked muscular and defined.

That’s expected, given his profession. It’s a normal chest. Completely average, like his biceps and his ass.

Did I see a smattering of hair?

Geezus. I need to get a grip. These damn teenage hormones should have been out of my system by now. Maybe it’s a vitamin D deficiency. Or is it zinc? It’s probably a multivitamin deficiency, given I haven’t taken any since I was a kid.

Multiple thoughts swirl in my head–multivitamins and bare chests–fighting for more headspace. I can’t get a hold on any. And honestly, how can I when all I see is the intensity of dark eyes boring into mine? How can I when all I feel are warm fingertips around my wrist and soft breaths skirting over my lips and chin. Strong shoulders–

“Hey.”

I jump at the unexpected voice. No, I don’t jump. I almost come out of my damn skin as cold water sloshes over my chest and down my tank top. “Shit!”

Darian’s hands fly up, open palmed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

I quickly glance up and just as soon regret it when I spot his massive bare chest–all man, all firm edges and hard corners, with a delicious happy trail running down from his navel to an unnamed, unimagined region.

A region I never ever care to see.

Ever.

I angle my head as far down as I can, practically breaking my damn neck with how my chin shoves into my collarbone. I dab at my chest repeatedly, as if that’s going to do anything. “No, it’s fine. I was just . . ..” To my horror, my mortification, I notice my nipples standing straight out. So sharp and so painful, I’m positive they’re going to cut through my shirt. “Uh, I should go change,” I say to my chest since I’m still too scared to look up again.

“Rani.”

No. Please, just don’t say anything. Please don’t utter another word and make me feel like a bigger idiot than I already do. I swear, I’m trying to compose myself here. I swear!

“Boy, this water was colder than I expected. Not that I expected it or anything. I didn’t come down here to just, you know, throw water on my bre–er, chest. Really wakes you up, though!” I laugh nervously, still dabbing at myself.

What. The. Fuck. Am I doing?

Someone, please punch me in the face and render me unconscious!

---