“What’s wrong?” I glance down at his hand as he flexes it open then closed. “Vance, what is it?” His cell phone rings but he doesn’t make a move to answer it. Until it rings again.
“Shit,” he mutters. Then a “Sorry” as he yanks the phone from his back pocket to answer the call. He holds the cell to his ear and his hand quivers. When he catches me staring, he switches hands and shoves that one into his pocket. “Hello. Yes it is.” He eyes his watch. “Yes I did. Sorry about that. Uh huh. Yes, I’ll give a call back to reschedule. Thanks.” Ending the call, he flips the phone in his hand repeatedly, a deep wrinkle creasing his forehead. His chest rises at a rapid pace, breathing heavy and labored.
“Vance?” Before I have a chance to say anything else, he takes his cell phone and lobs it into the air. It drops in the water quite a ways down the river and I glare at him. “Vance, what are you doing?”
He releases a single breath as if getting rid of his phone is the answer to whatever plagues him. “You know what, Ember. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore. I really don’t.” He belts out a maniacal laugh. “But that felt really fucking good.”
I lift my hands in the air and peer out to the spot where he threw his phone. My head shakes as my gaze returns to his face. “You’re crazy.”
“I don’t know. That felt like the sanest thing I’ve done in a long time.” Mischief returns, brightening his eyes. “This feels pretty sane, too.” He walks underneath the waterfall, drops his head back and lets the water pour over his hair, his chest, his legs. If I thought he was magnificent dry, he looks even better wet. He is beautiful. But that’s not what draws me to him. Something deeper—a gentleness that hides beneath anger and hurt—a vulnerability that he masks. Maybe the tiny piece of broken inside of him that latches on to my broken piece. Because with him I feel normal again. His head falls and his eyes connect with mine, and he seems—lighter somehow. He crooks a finger at me. “C’mere, you.”
This is how Zack must have felt before he climbed a steep mountain or sailed off a cliff. My heart pounds inside my chest and I can’t catch my breath. It feels like I’m on the edge of something scary, yet wonderful. And when I finally get my feet to move and Vance sees me coming toward him, rewarding me with fiery eyes and a slight curve of his lips—I’m done for.
He slicks back my drenched hair with his fingers. “I guess you’re crazy, too.”
“Certifiable,” I reply, water trickling past my temple and over the side of my face. His hand slides down and curves around the bend of my neck, thumb stroking along my jaw and I tremble.
“Cold?” he asks, eyes gleaming blue in the sunlight. I shake my head no and let my gaze wander over his face and all its subtle nuances; the single freckle under his eye, the strong angle of his jaw, the lines around his mouth. He pulls me in so my head rests on his chest and drapes himself around me. My arms encircle his waist until every part of him touches every part of me, until no space is left between us. Rivulets of water cascade over our bodies and he holds on tight as if he’s running out of air and I’m his last breath. It may be daylight and we may be standing in the middle of a river, but it is by far the most intimate moment I’ve ever experienced.
We stay like this, connected, until his chest lifts from mine and he draws back to look at me. “What are you doing to me, Ember Bennett?”
My voice shakes as his hand slips into my hair, tilting my head, our mouths merely inches apart. “The same thing you’re doing to me.” I close my eyes to the lingering scent of mint as his breath brushes against my lips. I’m panting with want, waiting to feel his mouth against mine—but it never comes. After what seems like an eternity, my eyes flutter open to his intense stare. “Aren’t you going to kiss me?”
“I don’t want to kiss you, Ember,” he says softly, and I frown. The words are too loud in my ears and I can’t make sense of them. Unsure, I cast my eyes down until I feel his finger under my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Because if I do, I’m afraid I’ll never want to stop.”
My lips part on a faint gasp, though I still manage to speak. “I’m not sure I’m seeing the problem.”