Page 39 of Drift
Chance had a talent for holding his emotions behind that cool mask of discipline. But the longer we stayed here, the less effective it was.
Sometimes I caught the flash of heat in his eyes before he looked away. How his jaw flexed when I laughed. When he muttered something under his breath that I wasn’t meant to catch.
The chemistry between us wasn’t a question anymore. It was a living, breathing thing stalking the small spaces we shared.
And if he thought he could outlast me, he was wrong.
Because every time his gaze slid over me, or his hand brushed mine when he passed me a mug of coffee, the air between us tightened until it hurt, and I wanted him more.
I needed him to stop pretending.
To stop fighting it.
To stop treating me like I was just Jaxton’s little sister. The same kid he’d met so many years ago.
I wondered if the time for subtlety had passed, and I needed to push harder to make him break.
Or maybe that was just the storm talking—the one outside matching the chaos inside me.
The wind had started sometime after midnight, rattling the shutters and carrying the crash of waves up from the beach. Each gust made the old boards groan. The power flickered once, and the air felt thick.
Sleep didn’t come easy. And when it finally did, it brought the wrong kind of dreams—Ethan’s voice whispering through the dark, the slam of a door, the phantom weight of a hand on my wrist. I jolted awake, my chest heaving and the storm still raging outside.
Thunder rolled close enough to shake the glass. I pushed the blanket aside and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The floorboards were cool under my bare feet as I padded toward the kitchen, still wearing Chance’s shirt with nothing but a pair of panties underneath.
Lightning flared through the window, spilling pale light across the room. In the next second, darkness swallowed it again. I reached for a glass in the cupboard and filled it from the tap, the hiss of water too loud in the hush.
“You okay?”
His voice came from behind me, rough with sleep and low enough to send a shiver down my spine.
I turned, the glass halfway to my lips. Chance stood near the doorway, shirtless with sweatpants hanging low on his hips.
“Just needed some water,” I murmured.
He nodded once but didn’t move away. Lightning flashed again, carving his features in sharp relief—the hard planes of muscle and the unyielding set of his jaw. His gaze caught mine and didn’t let go.
I took a slow sip, my pulse thrumming in my ears. “You can’t look at me like that and expect me to pretend you don’t feel something for me. As more than just Jaxton’s sister.”
For a heartbeat, neither of us breathed.
He took a few steps closer. “Never said I didn’t feel something for you.”
“You never say anything at all,” I muttered, setting the glass down before it slipped from my hand.
He drew in a deep breath, his shoulders rising as if he were bracing for impact. “Because I know that if I open my mouth, I’m gonna tell you that since the wedding, I haven’t seen you as anything but a gorgeous, sexy, amazing woman who makes me want things I shouldn’t.”
The storm cracked outside, lightning flooding the room again.
I moved close enough to feel the heat coming off his skin. “What if I want those things too?”
His eyes darkened, and for once, he didn’t look away.
The air between us tightened until I could barely breathe. The storm outside raged louder, wind clawing at the shutters and thunder rolling in like a warning. But all I could focus on was him.
“There’d be no going back, Alanna. You get that?” His hands settled at my hips, his fingers digging in just enough to make my pulse jump. “If you give yourself to me, I’ll fucking never let you go. You ready to say goodbye to your relationship with Jax?”
I lifted my chin, refusing to look away. “I love my brother, Chance. But I want you more.”
