Page 86 of From the Wreckage
“Morning,” I rasp back. My throat’s too tight for anything more.
She shifts, propping her chin on my chest, studying me. The sunlight catches in her hair, giving her a fiery halo, and it feels like I’m staring at something I’ll never deserve.
“I should go back to the cabin later,” she says softly. “Make it look like I’ve been there. Dad will be back soon.”
The reminder twists the knife deeper. I clear my throat, try to sit up, to put space between us. “You should get some rest first. It was a late night.”
She frowns, confusion flickering across her face. “Everett?—”
Before she can finish, I press another kiss to her forehead, trying to make it casual. “Sleep, angel. I’ll grab coffee. We’ll figure it out later.”
For a second, I almost believe I’ve created the space I need. But then she pushes herself up and straddles my waist, her hair falling around us like a curtain. Her eyes blaze with something that pulls the air from my lungs.
“You keep trying to push me away,” she whispers. “But I’m not letting you.”
Her mouth brushes mine, soft at first, and I freeze, torn between breaking the kiss and giving her everything. Then she deepens it, her fingers threading through my hair, and every ounce of resistance I’ve been clinging to shatters.
I grab her hips, hauling her down against me, kissing her like I’ll never get the chance again.
One more kiss,I tell myself as I crush my mouth to hers.One more, and then I’ll stop.
But even as I think it, I know I’m lying. Because with her, one more will never be enough.
CHAPTER 61
Brielle
Everett drivesme home after lunch, his truck rumbling down the familiar road. His hand brushes mine on the console once, twice, before finally lacing our fingers together. Neither of us says anything, but the silence is warm, dangerous, and fragile all at once.
When he pulls into the driveway, my chest tightens. Reality is intruding on the perfect moment I shared with Everett and the sound of a clock ticking in my ears fills me with dread.
“I should clean up,” I murmur, already reaching for the door handle. “Do the dishes, sweep the floor. Make it look like I’ve been here. He’ll notice otherwise.”
Everett kills the engine, his jaw flexing. “I’ll help.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“I want to.” His tone leaves no room for argument.
Inside, the cabin feels colder than Everett’s, like the air remembers it’s been empty. I set my purse on the counter and head straight for the sink, rolling up my sleeves. The clink of mugs and running water fill the silence.
Unable to stand it, I move to the radio, turning it on. Dad’s classic rock station plays. I’m about to turn it to a different station, but Everett stops me.
“Leave it on. That’s a good song.”
I raise my brows. “You’re an AC/DC fan?”
He smirks. “Course. Also, Def Leppard, Poison, Journey, 38 Special, Metallica...” His voice trails off when he notices my face. “What?”
“Nothing. Just—you have great taste in music.” I head back to the sink, grab a dish rag, and begin washing a mug. “I used to get teased in school for liking ‘old people’ music.”
He takes the mug after I’ve rinsed it and begins drying it. “Kids can be cruel.”
I nod. “Yeah. Dad said I was an ‘old soul’ and not to worry about them.”
We stare at each other for a moment before I clear my throat and resume washing. Everett hovers at my shoulder, drying dishes as I hand them over. His arm brushes mine, the heat of his body sinking into me. Every touch, every look is another reminder that we’re playing with fire.
When he begins moving to the beat of the music, my lips tip up. I start moving my hips, bumping them against his. He grins, moving behind me and grinding against my ass, turning the moment from silly fun into something more. Something raw.
