Page 39 of Alive and Wells

“The thing with keeping secrets is you can’t blame people for not knowing about them.”

His arms fall loosely to his sides and, overwhelmed with an unexpected urge to be closer, I step into him. My chest presses on his, and I’m relaxing into his large, warm body. Austin’s firm arms come around my back, gently holding me closer. Every piece touching him is on fire as if I’ve been dunked in a tub of Icy Hot. Burning so good. His fingertips draw a line down my upper arm and the delicate brush sends a spark dancing, twirling across my skin.

Tilting my head to look up at him, I run my palm along his jaw, pulling his gaze to meet mine. My eyes shutter, leaning in to feel his breath on my skin. On my lips. Wrapped around my waist, his arm tightens and his hand lightly squeezes my hip. The same motion KJ did in public places when he wanted to make it look like we were in love. Without warning, my body jerks like I’m falling. A traitorous reflex that didn’t even give me the time to fight it. Ever the observer, Austin pulls away and his eyes flutter open, awash with concern. I’m vulnerable and despondent, unable to wipe away the embarrassed tears that dampen my waterline.

“Cecily, I can’t.We can’t.”

“I’m sor—” His furrowing brows trap the word in my throat.No apologies. “I want you to touch me, even if my first instinct might always be to pull away. Because this broken piece might be irreparable. I don’t want it to be, but I’m scared it is. And, if that’s the case, does it mean I don’t deserve to feel a loving touch ever again? Am I too damaged?”

“You deserve nothing but a loving touch. Always. You’re not damaged or broken. You’re perfect, but your body’s scared… for good fucking reason. And I don’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable. Especially when I’m not sure you’d tell me if you were.”

He’s entirely…notwrong, as much as it hurts to admit to myself. I doubt I would ever have the strength, or the desire, to tell him if I wasn’t comfortable with something. I want him too damn bad. Knowing whatever I say won’t carry enough weight to make him believe me, I hold a hand to his cheek and slowly rub along his jawline. Our chests rise and fall in concert with every wordless breath, letting a hungry kiss linger in the space between us.

“I’ll wait as long as I need to for you to trust me,” he says.

With a gentle nod, I rest my head down on his chest and bask in his sauna-like heat, easing the day’s heaviness, until he gently whispers against my hair, “I think the food’s done.”

My hands skim his thick torso as I step back and stare up at him to decipher what he’s feeling. His eyes are always a dead giveaway for every emotion and, right now, it’s clear he didn’t want me to leave his embrace any more than I did. I may be starved for affection even more than I am for dinner.

I think he is, too.

“Come to bed,” I mumble on the way out of the bathroom, adjusting my pajama shorts. It must be true what they say about a lack of sleep impairing your judgement in the same way as alcohol. “Sorry. Not like that. Just sleep.”

Although…

“I’m good here.” He pats the worn-in couch with a wary smile.

“Please. I really want you to.”Again, I’m clearly impaired.“We can be adults and sleep in the same bed, can’t we? Nothing more than platonic cuddles. You need to get some decent sleep tonight and I… don’t want to sleep alone.” It sounds even more pitiful out loud than it did in my head. Friends can share a bed though, right? Even if they’re male and female friends? Even if I’m going to be tempted to kiss him the entire time?

Too tired or unable to find a valid argument for my sound reasoning, he follows me into the bedroom. His hands absent-mindedly find their way to his T-shirt hem before pausing.

“Take it off.” I crawl under the soft, thick duvet. “Okay, again, not like that. I’m sorry, I lose the ability to act normal when I’m tired. Sorry.”

A breathy laugh rumbles up from his chest as he yanks his T-shirt off, then his jeans. “Quit apologizing to me.”

When he looks at me, standing in the bedside lamp glow in nothing but boxers, a warm bubbly sensation like the first sip of champagne tingles in my lower stomach. For a split second, I consider asking him to take off even more.

“Sorry. You’re just…a lot.”I giggle, drunk on emotional exhaustion, unashamedly ogling his body. Tall, broad, and confident. As he moves toward the bed, it’s evident in the flex of every muscle how strong he is, and dark blue veins branch across his forearms as he lifts the duvet on his side. But what I loved the most when I touched the faded brand scarred on his chest was the soft layer over top. He’s warm and cozy, not chiseled from stone. It’s the body of a man who works hard on a farm all day, then goes home to eat good food and cuddle his woman at night.

For tonight, maybe I can be that woman.

“You’re overtired.” He shakes his head.

“True. But also, you have to know that you’re unfairly attractive.”

He reaches to turn off the bedside lamp, then squeezes my hand in the dark. “Nothing compared to you, City Girl. You’re…fuck.”

His body weight shifts the mattress as he gets comfortable. If we were in my cabin, with my double bed, our bodies would have no choice but to touch. That would be perfectly fine by me—preferable even, to a bed so big we could build a pillow wall between us if we wanted. It’s not long before his breathing changes, becoming deeper and slower. Unlike every other recent time I’ve shared a bed with a man, I’m not tempted to sneak away once he’s sound asleep. Instead, I scooch back a few inches and reach for his heavy arm. The warm limb drapes across my torso, pinning me to the mattress. I can’t remember the last time I willingly sought out comfort like this at night, rather than actively avoiding KJ in bed. Using Austin’s arm like a weighted blanket, it’s hard to imagine how I survived years without affectionate human touch.

17

Austin

Iwakeupsmellingcoconut and assume it means God did me a solid by letting me into heaven. But when my eyes open, it’s even better. My face is less than an inch from Cecily’s golden-blonde hair, my chest pressed to her back, my arm around her waist, and my…fuck.I pull away in time to hear a quiet, sleepy laugh.

“Austin… was that what I think it was pressed against me?”

I clear my throat, attempting to play it cool. “You’re in my bed—practically naked—and I’m just a simple man, darlin’. Can’t expect me to be unaffected by that.”

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