Page 31 of Adrift

Gage makes a soft sound of amusement, and then there’s silence as I rustle against the sheets, nervously tugging everything into place.

The tension is brimming between us. It keeps spilling over, one trickle at a time, like the first touch of spring on a frozen waterfall. But it hasn’t yet burst free—and something is stopping me from blithely forging ahead like I usually would.

This one matters.

All I can hear for long minutes is the ticking of a clock, the uneven rasp to Gage’s breathing that tells me that we’re both feigning sleep—or waiting in vain hope.

Finally, Gage sighs and shifts on the bed. I peek through my lashes and find him lying flat on his back. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “For everything today. It hasn’t gone unappreciated.”

It sounds like an apology for not sweeping me off my feet for a wild, sweaty night.

So, as always, I do what comes most naturally.

I roll toward him, feeling around the pillow until I find the firm, muscled warmth of his shoulder and his breath catches.

Then I just squeeze gently and leave my hand right where it is. No running my fingertips toward his jaw or ear, or down the back of his neck, or even walking them down his arm… no matter how much I want to.

“Hey, my pleasure,” I murmur. “Listen. My home is yours, for as long as you want. Don’t rush anything.”

I’m talking about more than fixing up the cabin, and I don’t think it’s lost on Gage. He goes still all of a sudden. The seconds are ticking by. Did he actually fall asleep? Or just stop breathing?

Then he lets out a quick whoosh of air, and the air in the room suddenly feels so much more relaxed.

“Thanks,” Gage murmurs. “Today was just… a lot.”

“Mmm. Moving day is always a weird one,” I tell him. And I should know. “It’ll start to sink in when you wake up. Get some sleep. I’ll make breakfast if you’re unlucky.”

Gage actually chuckles, a warm and rich little noise. “We’ll see who wakes up first. Good night.”

“Good night,” I tell him.

It’s the hardest thing in the world to pull my hand away from his shoulder. I want to keep indulging myself, secretly enjoying the pleasurable thrum that comes from touching him.

But I have to give him his personal space.

I roll onto my front, leaving my hand next to Gage’s pillow as he shifts around to find the right position, too. Just as I’m going still and my breathing turns even, I feel Gage shift again. His palm slides across the back of my hand until it rests gently on top.

Smiling into the darkness, I sink properly into my bed… and I’m out like a light.

Chapter

Twelve

GAGE

It’s all sinking in.

I’m waking up in a nice, soft bed, and that sure beats a sleeping bag in an old, dusty, leaky cabin.

Maybe some of my ideasarea little bit crazy.

Thank god Kieran is as stubborn as me, or even more so. I didn’t think that was possible. But there’s a lot about Kieran that seemed impossible until we met.

Just thinking about him, remembering the crazy afternoon we shared, I can’t help but smile. My pulse is suddenly fluttering in my throat, and I feel more awake—alive.

I can hear his quiet breathing nearby, but we’re not touching. And it actually makes my heart sink, just a little bit. Kieran’s so touchy-feely that a secret part of me was hoping that we’d wake up tangled in one another’s arms.

Slowly, so I don’t wake Kieran, I roll over to look at him.

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