Page 23 of From the Wreckage
“Bri.” His mouth moves closer.
The kiss is soft at first. Tentative.
But the second his hand cups my jaw and I clutch at his chest, it deepens, turning hungry and desperate. A collision of everything we’ve been holding back.
His groan vibrates against me, shooting straight through my chest.
I cling to him, gasping against his lips. “Don’t stop.”
“Never,” he growls, kissing me harder, until time and space and sense cease to exist. There’s only him. His taste. His touch. His scent of soap, pine, and sweat.
A boat engine roars across the lake, shattering the spell. He pulls back, his chest heaving, brown eyes burning with desire.
He helps me to my feet, standing with me. His eyes roam over me, checking for injuries.
“You shouldn’t be out here, exerting yourself,” he rasps. “But damn it, angel… How the hell am I supposed to lecture you after that?”
My laugh is shaky, my lips swollen from his kiss. “I call it active rest,” I tease, though my voice trembles. “Besides, I missed you.”
His answering smile is blinding. He cups my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. “I missed you, too.”
Then, before I can blink, he scoops me into his arms.
“Everett!” I yelp, clutching his shoulders. “Put me down before you hurt yourself.”
“Not happening.” His stride eats the trail, effortless despite carrying me. “You’re not walking. You’re not running. I’m taking you to my cabin.”
I give up, melting into him, my head resting on his shoulder. My heart pounds, but for the first time since the accident, I feel completely safe.
Safe… in his arms.
CHAPTER 16
Brielle
Everett doesn’t slowuntil we’re at the edge of the dock behind his cabin. The boards creak under his steps, and then he lowers me into one of the two weathered Adirondack chairs angled toward the lake.
“Everett, seriously,” I protest for the fifth time. “I’m fine. You don’t need to treat me like I’m made of glass.”
He crouches in front of me anyway, his big hands skimming over my knees, calves, and shoulders, checking me like he doesn’t trust his own eyes. His brows pinch as his fingers hover near the bandage on my forehead.
“You fell,” he mutters, his voice rough. “After being in an accident. I need to make sure you’re okay.”
My lips twitch. “You’re good at catching me. And I’m fine.”
That earns me the faintest smile, but he still doesn’t stop scanning me like he’s memorizing every freckle and mark on my body.
Finally, he exhales and settles back on his heels. “You’re not hurt.”
“Told you so,” I whisper, and he shakes his head, muttering something about a stubborn angel.
He pushes to his feet and drops into the chair beside mine, leaning back with a sigh. The lake glitters under the morning sun, a ribbon of light dancing across the ripples. I tuck my legs up and glance at him. His head turns to mine, a faint smile pulling at his lips. “I carried these chairs down here last night.”
I blink. “What? Why?”
His jaw works, and then he shrugs, like it’s nothing. “While we were texting. I was sitting on the back deck, and I moved one of the chairs down here, staring at the lake… and your cabin. But I was still lonesome. So I moved the other chair here… It felt like you were here with me. I hoped… Maybe one day you would be.”
My breath catches. Something in my chest splinters and remakes itself, soft and aching and new.
