Page 34 of Caught from Behind

But his hand begins moving over the blanket, slowly drifting over the side of my body, starting at my feet, tracing up to my calves, my knees and my hip, resting briefly in the indent of my waist that’s engulfed in the tee he’d taken off the night before. The fabric still smells like him, spicy and male, and I remember how warm it had made me when I’d pulled it on in the bathroom, how my heart had skipped a beat at the sight of my reflection in the mirror.

It felt…right.

But not as right as him holding me, as him touching me now does.

His hand starts moving again, drifting up my rib cage, brushing lightly over the bottom curve of my breast.

I suck in a breath, but the touch is here again, gone tomorrow, his fingers continuing to move, sliding along the outside of my arm, moving in to stroke the curve of my neck.

A slight squeeze before his hand is moving higher, drifting over my blanket-covered head?—

And gripping the edge of the material, yanking it down in one quick movement that leaves the sun blasting me in the face, the cool bite of the morning air on my exposed skin.

Gasping, I blink against the sudden rush of cold, the brightness scalding my eyes, and when my vision clears, I almost gasp again. Because Riggs’s face is right there.

And he’s so damned beautiful in the morning sunlight.

Even though it’s sunlight…from the morning.

His hand rests on my cheek, grounding me in the moment, pulling me into the here and now…even as what he shared the night before threatens like storm clouds on the horizon.

My throat tightens and I know my emotions must show on my face because the teasing fades from his expression.

“I’ve never—” He shakes his head, but I don’t rush him, don’t break in and finish his sentence. Because his hand is still on my cheek and his body is still over mine, and he’s…

Well, he’s here.

And he eventually gets his thoughts together, his fingers flexing slightly as he whispers, “I’ve never told anyone that.” His eyes close for a long moment. “So, I’d prefer that you didn’t share?—”

I can’t keep silent any longer.

I drop my hand over his, holding it in place on my cheek. “It’s your truth to tell.” I will him to see that I’m on his side. “So, I will never breathe a word to anyone.”

His eyes close again, but only for a second, and I want to tell him again that it’s not his fault, want to fix how it’s eating at him. But…I don’t know how to do that. Don’t know how to make it right, how to take his pain.

I just know…I can’t.

I hate it—the guilt he’s carrying, the fact that it happened at all, that I can’t make everything better.

But before I can really sit in that, feel how truly vulnerable it makes me with him, his lids peel open, and the world shrinks down until it’s just Riggs in front of me—not the man teasing me about my grumpy morning brain nor the one who took my hand and led me from Lake and Nova’s house. Not even the man with the hurt buried deep in his soul.

It’s Riggs. My Riggs.

Quiet. Watchful. Waiting. Patient.

With a heavy secret—the proverbial pea under the mattress, disturbing the pillowy top so he can’t be at peace. Or maybe it’s his pebble dropping beneath the surface of the water.

Settling on the bottom of the pool, unseen and yet…

Changing everything.

Even if the rest of the world hasn’t noticed it yet.

I open my mouth to say something, to say anything?—

Buzz-buzz! Buzz-buzz! Buzz-buzz!

He freezes.

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