Page 173 of Without a Trace
He followed with a curse and a snap of his hips that made the boat tilt and nearly toss us both into the ocean.
We held on.
Breathing hard. Laughing.
Soaked and sore and still tangled.
Alden’s hand came up, brushing wet hair from my face, Pressing a kiss against my temple.
“This kayak’s never recovering.”
I grinned against his chest. “Neither are we.”
Scarlett
We didn’t head back right away.
The kayak drifted, soft rain clung to our skin, the sea rocking beneath us. My shirt was long gone—somewhere in the sea or shrinking beneath the weight of everything we’d just done.
Alden looked at me, eyes dark, while he unbuttoned his shirt and eased it from his shoulders.
I slipped it on, the fabric damp from his body, the sleeves swallowing my hands.
“We should head back,” he muttered as the rain softened to mist.
He pushed us to the shore, the kayak gliding onto wet sand with a quiet scrape. Leaves glistened under the moonlight, the trees whispering behind us.
Alden’s hand brushed mine as I stepped out, landing back onto the shore, the firelight casting orange shadows across his jaw. He looked good wrecked. Smug, but still quiet. Still Alden.
Kane raised an eyebrow when he saw us.
Rhett coughed into his drink. “Well, fuck.”
I dropped back onto the blanket in the sand. Alden sat beside me—quiet, calm, heartbeat still written across his skin.
Zeke passed me the bottle.
I took it.
Let the burn hit my throat and settle deep.
The boys went back to talking. The fire cracked, laughter coming easier this time.
But under it all?
The tension pulsed.
Unspoken.
Undeniable.
And whatever this was turning into—
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to outrun it.
Or burn in it.
Scarlett
