Page 52 of Second Chance Savior

What would kissing him be like? Would he be slow and intense? Fast and passionate? How far would he want to go?

It felt like lighter fluid had filled my veins. One spark, one touch, and I’d be set aflame.

“Which of us won, do you think?” I asked.

He cleared his throat. “It was a tie. No one escapes toilet scrubbing.”

Another giggle snuck out of me. Toilet scrubbing. Exactly what I needed to think about. Like a bucket of mop water drowning the flames.

I couldn’t think about River likethat. I barely even liked him. It was the worst possible idea.

Thunder crashed, and the rain picked up. River stood and bent over me, holding out a hand to help me stand. “We better get up the hill and finish cleaning before your mom gets home. Or before we’re soaked.”

“Yeah.”

His palm was flat against mine, gripping tightly for an instant. Then it was gone. I wiped stray raindrops from my face.

River led the way up the slope. My feet sank into the sodden ground. I stared at his back, at his damp T-shirt molded to his lean muscles, and tried fruitlessly to calm my racing thoughts.

I took a step and lurched forward. My ankle twisted painfully. “Ow!”

River ran back to where I was crouching. “What happened?”

“Stepped in a hole. Twisted my ankle.” Because I’d been staring athiminstead of watching where I was going.

“We raced down the hill like idiots, and you manage to twist your ankle just walking back?”

“I’m talented like that.”

And of course, the rain started pelting us now.Crap.

He bowed his head to look down at my hurt foot. Rain dripped along his face to his mouth, his chin. I imagined sucking each drop from his lips.

Stop, I told myself.

I tried to stand, grimacing at the pain.

“Don’t,” he shouted over the noise of the storm. “I’ll carry you.” River knelt in front of me. “Climb on my back.”

“You’re never going to let me forget this, are you?”

“Come on, Charlie. It’s freaking cold, and we’re soaked.”

I put my arms around his neck. He grabbed my legs, lifting me, and we both held on. I felt the shape of his back against my breasts and stomach, as if our wet clothes were no barrier at all. Both of our heartbeats thrummed.

If I’d leaned forward, I could’ve licked a bead of water from the shell of his ear. The urge was so powerful I had to close my eyes.

Back in the house, River carried me to my room. He set me on my bed and carefully avoided eye contact. “I can finish the rest of the cleaning,” he said.

“No, the race was a tie. We’ll both scrub toilets. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Just give me a few minutes to change,” I said.

He left, and I tried not to imagine him stripping his wet clothes in the room next door. But maybe I could’ve tried harder.

Later that afternoon, when my mom got home, the house was clean. My leg was propped on the couch with an ice pack on my ankle. “How did you manage to hurt yourself without leaving the house?”

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