Page 68 of Secrets in Calusa Cove

“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m on your side? That I believe everything you’re telling me?” He tossed the cell phone on the counter. Cupping her face, he kissed her softly. “Everyone in this town is acting crazy. I’m suspicious of most people right now. But not you. You’re the one person who hasn’t given me any real reason to doubt you.”

She flung herself at him, wrapping her arms and legs around his strong body, crash-landing her lips on his mouth. If honesty, loyalty, and kindness had a taste, then that’s what Dawson tasted like.

His steadying hands wrapped around her waist, their bodies blending into each other. She could feel his heartbeat in sync with hers, rapid yet soothing. Dawson carried her back to the bed. His hands massaged her muscles, kneading into her flesh as if she were clay and he was molding her into a fine piece of sculpture.

There was a quiet understanding as they shared another soft kiss, the worries of the world momentarily stilled by their shared emotions. He brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face. "You’re not alone," he whispered. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

She’d been alone for so long that she’d forgotten what it was like to rely on another human.

Her memories of her mother had only been of when she’d been sick. But her mother had loved her. She’d championed her daughter. Audra cherished those moments. Her father had been fractured, and her mother’s death had only made him worse. Ken had brought Audra some normalcy, but in the end, he’d betrayed her trust.

Dawson was different. He didn’t pretend to be her knight in shining armor. He knew he was just a man, but he was a man who hadn’t judged her. He believed her.

That was something.

She fumbled desperately with the buttons on his shirt as if it were the first time she’d ever undressed a man.

But Dawson gently captured her trembling hands and smiled softly, stealing her breath with a glance. “Slow down," he whispered, his voice rich with affection. "We've got time."

She looked at him as a myriad of emotions stared back at her in his amber eyes. Her fingers relaxed under his touch as he deftly unbuttoned his shirt, his every move unhurried and deliberate. Every second was an eternity as she watched the cotton slide off his broad shoulders to reveal his torso.

He was magnificent; tanned skin stretched taut over rippling muscles, adorned with only a light dusting of dark hair. He was like a painting—a masterpiece carved by a master craftsman, and she was the artist given the honor to etch every inch of him into her memory canvas.

He took her hands, kissing each knuckle tenderly while maintaining eye contact. Leading her hands to his chest, he let her trace the outline of his muscles—and scars—each contact sending electric sparks through her body.

Her breath hitched as she pulled herself closer, the heat radiating off him making her feel intoxicated. She buried her face into his neck, inhaling deeply—the scent of sea spray mixed with an undertone of fresh pine stirred something primal within her.

His strong arms cradled her slender body against his chest. Their bodies intertwined like puzzle pieces, fitting together perfectly.

A sense of serenity washed over her as she surrendered to their shared passion. They drew strength from each other amid a whirlwind of chaos looming outside their safe haven.

"Dawson," she whispered, her voice barely audible against his skin. "This feels—unreal."

He tucked her head under his chin, his hand splaying against her back as he held her in a protective embrace. "It's us… it's real," he stated, his affirmation carrying a weight that grounded her to the reality of their situation.

She clung to him, absorbing the rhythmic thud of his heart, allowing it to serve as a lighthouse in the storm of emotions she was experiencing. The shared solitude and intimacy brought an unspoken promise—an assurance that no matter how much the world outside their bubble raged, here, within these walls with him, she was safe.

His long fingers traced patterns along her spine, soothing her nerves, each stroke like a light balm over open wounds. Although the night was cold outside their sanctuary, the heat radiating from his body provided warmth that a thousand fires couldn't.

She looked at him beneath her lashes, tracing his features with her gaze. His sharp jawline softened as he stared back at her with an intensity that made her feel seen—truly seen—for perhaps the first time in ages.

He cradled her face with one hand, delicately tracing the slope of her nose as if he were a sculptor molding wet clay. Their lips met in a sweet exchange—a slow dance without urgency. It was purely them: raw and unhurried.

There was no need for spoken words between them; their bodies spoke volumes—an intimate language only they understood.

Slowly, they succumbed to the rhythm set by their beating hearts—the crescendo of emotions pouring out from each other’s souls through silent whispers and punctuating sighs. As moonlight cast an ethereal glow around them, their shared solitude felt like home—a place of refuge where they could bare their vulnerabilities without fear.

And there, against Dawson's chest, under the moonlight, she realized something profound. She was no longer alone; her heart had found a companion in Dawson. And with that realization came a peaceful sigh as she surrendered herself to him. No matter what chaos lay ahead, she knew they'd face it together.

CHAPTER13

After Dawson’sparents had died, he’d become afraid of almost everything. A thud in the dark night would send him into a panic. Hell, a stroll down the street in broad daylight could make his heart race like he’d been running all day. It was as if the boogeyman were chasing him. Had it not been for the love and strength of his nana, he never would have had the courage to face his fears.

To forge the path that led him to the Navy.

He’d traveled a difficult road. One riddled with obstacles that took conviction to overcome. His battles were internal, and most never even saw them—but he felt them to his core.

The hum of the airboat vibrated through the ear protection. The warm air blew across his face like the first rush of a tropical storm. A flash of lightning in the distance—way out over the ocean—filled the sky. It was like the tentacles of an octopus reaching down and snagging its supper. That storm would dance over the sea, moving slowly toward shore until it dumped its destruction on Calusa Cove. A small vessel warning had already been issued and would be in place for the remainder of the day. The sea would be no place for the faint of heart for the next twenty-four hours, with waves between ten to fourteen feet and only two seconds apart.

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