Page 141 of The Long Way Home
Connor points at her. “That is the most Slone answer I’ve ever heard.”
Laughter rolls through the group again, and I lean back in my chair, letting it wash over me. These people, my people, they’remore than friends. They’re stitched into my life now, filling the emptiness I’ve carried since I lost Josh.
I watch Rachel throw her head back in a true, belly laugh. I can’t help myself. Everything about her draws me in.
Rachel catches me watching her. One brow arches slowly. “What?”
I shrug, trying to play it off even though I’ve been caught. “Am I not allowed to look?”
“That’s dangerous territory, Rhett.”
“For you, maybe.”
She nudges my leg with hers under the blanket. “You gonna tell me what you’re busy thinking about, or do I have to guess?”
I’ll admit I’m having a hard time giving her space. I’ll do it because I told her I would, and I mean what I say, but I never promised I wouldn’t make her remember how it feels when it’s easy between us.
I lean in so only she can hear me. “Your body is pressed against mine.” My voice drops. “I’m trying to be the good guy, Sunny. I’m really trying to give you space. But I’m one breath away from losing it all. It’s hard to remember I shouldn’t want to touch you when your bare skin is up against mine.”
She shifts closer, tilts her mouth toward my ear, and whispers smooth as whiskey, “Maybe I like watching you squirm.”
“I did always love that mouth of yours.”
She leans into me, in no rush to escape whatever line she is toeing.
I respond by tipping my head to make her feel the weight of my focus. When her smile twitches, I know she is aware she crossed into dangerous ground. I don’t give her the satisfaction of pulling back, though. I stay right there, because I like watching her squirm too.
“Keep talking like that,” I say. “And I’m gonna forget we’re not alone out here. You really want that, Rach?”
Her hand slides over mine, brushing against my skin as she takes my beer without asking.
“You don’t know what I want.” Her mouth tilts into a curve I can’t ignore. “Maybe that is exactly what I want.”
Heat pricks at the back of my neck. She lifts the bottle to her lips, swallowing slowly, eyes locked on me the entire time. Her tongue sweeps across her bottom lip, a clean, languid pass, and I feel it straight through my chest. She is baiting me, and every second is a test I want to fail.
She rises. Stretches. The hem of her shirt slips just enough to reveal a thin strip of skin above her waistband. My pulse spikes, and I fight the urge to reach out and trace it. Her shorts ride higher on her thighs, and she doesn’t fix them. She wants me watching, tethered to her.
She turns toward the house, pauses, and then her gaze finds me again. She’s daring me to understand exactly what she is doing. I do. Every inch of her is a challenge. Every movement is a pull she knows I can’t resist.
I stand and begin to follow her. Behind me, faint voices from the group float in. A low whistle from Connor. Margo’s laugh, sharp and bright. Slone murmurs under her breath, “Finally.” Bottles clink in applause, but I don’t hear it. I’m already moving, already consumed and chasing the fire she lit and left smoldering in me.
They all know. But I don’t care about them or about the noise. Right now, it is only about her.
The house is dim when I step inside, shadows stretching long across the floor from the moonlight slanting through the kitchen window.
I spot her in the hallway near the guest rooms, leaning against the wall, head tipped back, arms loose at her sides, waiting for me.
“Couldn’t stay out there?” she asks. But we both know she already knows the answer.
I move toward her. The dim light catches her in warm gold, shadows sliding across the curve of her neck, down the slope of her shoulders. I lift my hand, dragging the backs of my fingers along her arm, slow enough to feel every shiver she tries to hide.
“You knew I wouldn’t, Sunny.”
Her lips curl into that lazy, wicked smirk. “A girl can hope.”
God, she is lethal like this. Danger wrapped in soft skin. A fire she pretends she can control. I’ll let her have the illusion, for now.
I close the gap between us.
