Page 79 of The Space Between
Gruene doesn’t text me.He’s not the kind of man who sends emojis or memes or even double texts if you don’t answer. He doesn’t call.
I don’t even see him all day, so I eat dinner alone and curl up in bed with a book.
At sunrise,I find fresh peaches on my porch.
At noon, there’s a bottle of sunscreen with a note.
"Don’t get burned, Sunshine."
Around seven, I hear his truck stop in front of my cabin with the engine idling. Footsteps sound on my porch, but when I open the door, he’s not there. A fresh mason jar of still warm sun tea is sitting on the mat along with cherry cobbler.
He doesn’t leave words… but he does leave his presence, and that’s more than any man has ever given me before.
I walk to the dock once the moon is high above the treetops and find him standing at the end of it.
He’s barefoot, shirtless, his jeans are low on his chiseled, scarred hips, and he’s holding a beer in one hand. The other is shoved deep into his pocket. The moon is behind him, painting silver across his shoulders. He doesn’t turn when I step beside him. “Didn’t think you’d come,” he murmurs.
“Didn’t think I’d stay.” I whisper back.
His jaw tightens. “But you did.”
I nod and see him swallow. When he finally looks at me—reallylooksat me—something clicks between us again. That unspoken language we keep breaking into with every breath.
“Swim with me?” he gruffly asks and drops his jeans to the dock.
What?
He jumps in first,cutting through the surface like he’s made of it but stays close to the dock. He makes sure to keep one hand on it. I strip to my bra and panties and wade in slower, feeling the current wrap around my thighs, my ribs, and my throat. It should scare me, but it doesn’t. He’s there and I know I’m safe.
He won’t let me go.
He dips his head back as I reach him and wraps an arm around me, pulling me close, but not flush against him. He’s right in front of me dripping and glistening, his eyes locked on mine in the moonlight. He mutters, “You’re brave, Blakelyn.”
What?
I laugh under my breath. “You think I’m brave for swimming?”
He mutters, “No, I think you’re brave for staying.”
He touches my face. His palms cup my cheeks. Soft. Reverent. His fingertips dance over my cheekbones, before drifting over my lips, and along the bridge of my nose. I shiver and he brushes water from my lashes. Goosebumps rise all over my skin. Not from cold… from his touch.
He stares at me, and I stare back. Then, holding my gaze, he leans in and kisses me. Our eyes are locked. It’s not about heat. It’s not about want. It’s aboutbelonging.
Before I know what’s happening, we’re both naked. I strip him down and throw them onto the dock while he unhooked my bra and peeled my panties down my legs, both joining his clothes. He holds onto the dock with one hand and positions me in the water, cradling me between his arms as he uses the other hand to guide himself into me with an exhale that shakes the stars.
Our mouths stay fused the entire time—whispers and moans and soft, gasping “yeses” melding between us.
My legs wrap around him, helping me anchor us, and we rock, slow and deep, the current curling around our bodies like it’s dancing with us. He groans when I slide over him and grind. I feel him everywhere—Inside me… around me… tethered to my pulse.
“I don’t know how to stop wanting you,” I breathe against his neck as the tremors start.
He presses his forehead to mine. “Don’t… please don’t…”
We come together with the river around us and the stars above us.
Somehow, he manages to haul us both out of the water while we’re still trembling. We collapse onto the dock, breathless, wet, and raw. Closing my eyes, I let the night carry us… the stars are witnesses… and the river keeps our secrets.
What’s between us doesn’t need explanation.
