Page 171 of Without a Trace
Then all at once.
Warm in my veins. Heavy in my head.
Laughter crackled around the fire, soft and strange after everything that had happened. Rain droplets tapping the surface of the water. The drizzle made the flames hiss and steam rise off the sand.
Kane passed the bottle around again, Rhett retelling a story I’d already heard twice but was somehow funnier this time. Trace kept stealing glances at me when he thought I wasn’t looking.
Alden hadn’t taken his eyes off me.
I leaned back in the sand, one arm braced behind me, the other toying with a strand of hair. “You staring for a reason?”
His mouth curved. “You keep letting me.”
“Cocky.”
“Curious.”
That earned a tilt from my head. “About what?”
Alden leaned in, voice low. “You’ve always been dangerous.”
I smirked. “Now you’re just trying to get laid.”
A flicker of something dark passed through his eyes. “I’m not trying.”
His answer made me forget I was holding the bottle. It flipped from my hand, landing with a soft thud in the sand.
He stood. Extended a hand, fingers brushing my knee—soft, slow.
The others were still laughing behind us as we slipped down the dark trail, through the trees, towards the far dock. The rain had thickened. My hair stuck to my neck, skin already damp.
“Romantic,” I muttered as we reached the end of the dock. A battered kayak sat half-submerged on the side, covered in sand and moss. “So what’s the plan, captain? Gonna seduce me in a floating death trap?”
Alden laughed. “Only if you’re lucky.”
He dragged it free and climbed in like he’d done it a hundred times. I followed, slipping between his legs, my back against his chest.
“This is the dumbest idea I’ve ever said yes to.”
“You said yes,” he murmured, paddling us out into the dark.
When the paddle dropped, his hands slid tight around my waist. “You cold?” he asked against my neck.
“No,” I whispered. “I’m fucking soaked.”
His hands slid around my waist. “So am I.”
I turned in the narrow space, water sloshing against the edges of the boat. My thighs straddled his hips, barely room to move.
“God,” I breathed, “this is so stupid.”
He kissed me.
His breath hitched as he pulled back. “You sure?” he asked.
“I climbed into a kayak with you in the rain. What do you think?”
He kissed me again—slow at first. Open-mouthed, searching. Rain dripped from our lashes. My hands curled into the damp fabric at his shoulders, pulling him closer.
