24

Brynn

I’m paralyzed.

It’s as if my feet are stuck in the sand. As if I’m watching the horror unfold on my television screen and not in the dark waters in front of me.

Beside me, Josh kicks off both shoes and then reaches for his belt. It isn’t until he’s down to nothing but his T-shirt and boxers that I even realize what is happening.

He’s going in.

He’s going after her.

“You can’t go in there!” I call as Josh runs into the water, but my warning is drowned out by the wind. I’m helpless as I watch Josh make even strokes out into the bay, where Spencer and the boat are still making circles.

Josh reaches the spot where Luce went under. He waves down Spencer, who finally brings the boat to a stop.

I stop breathing completely as Josh dives beneath the waves, and I only resume with a few shallow breaths when I catch a glimpse of white as Josh surfaces before diving under the water again.

My heart is in my throat, hammering hard. It’s almost impossible to breathe.

Please find her. Please be careful.

It’s an excruciating minute before there’s another break on the surface of the water.

This time, the flash of white stays. I squint and make out a second body. Luce.

Spencer reaches down and pulls her from the water. Josh climbs out next, his body disappearing from my view as he lifts himself up and over the gunwale of the boat.

I don’t draw another full breath until he reappears at the wheel a few moments later, and the sound of the roaring engine cuts across the water.

The boat makes its way back to the shore through the choppy water. The entire time, my eyes never leave Josh’s face. His dark hair is almost black with rain, and his brows are drawn low in a determined expression as he pulls the boat up to the dock.

I don’t even realize a crowd has formed behind me on the beach until there’s a collective gasp as Spencer steps onto the dock and holds out his hand to help Luce, who follows him on shaky legs.

She looks tired and scared, but otherwise okay.

I feel so relieved that I almost throw up and have to close my eyes until the nausea subsides as the adrenaline drains from my body.

Voices from the crowd swim around my head.

“Did you see that?”

“Spencer pulled her out.”

“He’s a hero.”

“He saved her.”

“What was she doing out there?”

“It’s Luce, you know how Luce is.”

“Who was driving?”

“I think it was Fletcher.”

“Well, that’s not surprising.”

I want to scream every single profanity that has been on the tip of my tongue this week. I want to scream about how screwed up this place is. About how screwed up we all are for just accepting it.

Are you all blind? I want to take each and every person standing here by the shoulders and shake. Spencer did nothing. Luce is a victim. It was Josh who saved her.

Josh!

Where is Josh?

My eyes scan the dock, the boat, even the beach.

But there’s no Josh.

There’s just Spencer, his arm around Luce, walking her toward another small crowd of people on the dock, who cover them with blankets.

I run from the beach toward the boat, my mind flipping between second-guessing the memories of the last few moments and inventing horrifying what-ifs.

What if he fell back in? What if he never got out in the first place? Did I actually see him get into the boat? Am I sure he was driving?

My eyes scan the water for snippets of white.

The ocean is nothing but black swells of water.

Just as I reach the boat, I hear a low moan coming from inside it, and I stop.

I peer down inside, making out an arm. A head. Two legs. A chest that fills with cold sea air and then contracts. Up and down. Up and down.

My body floods with a feeling of relief. Of something more.

“You’re okay.” I jump inside and sink down next to him. My cheek falls to his chest, just to make sure it’s not a trick of the dark.

He’s breathing.

His heart is beating a strong and steady lub-dub, lub-dub.

Wet arms encircle my body, pressing me closer.

“How is she?” Josh’s voice is raspy and shallow, as if he swallowed the sea.

“She’s going to be okay, I think. There are lots of people with her now to help. But what about you?” My eyes grope his body in the dark, searching for cuts, bruises, blood, answers.

“Just a little wet.” He coughs, and I press my body away to give him room, but his hands tighten, and he pulls me back in.

We lie there in the dark.

Not speaking.

Not moving.

Just holding each other.

I listen as his breathing changes from shallow gasps to slow, even inhales and exhales.

A cold breeze blows off the ocean. It runs up my arms, and I involuntarily shiver.

“Are you cold?” He loosens his grip to rub my arms.

“Don’t worry about me,” I tell him. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

He tightens his arms again. “We take care of each other.”

My head has finally stopped reeling enough to fully process what just happened. “You went in after her. You didn’t even think.”

He rolls his head toward the direction of the Bronze. “They were my responsibility. I served them. I should have been paying more attention—”

“No.” My hands press to his cheeks, holding his head so I can look straight into his eyes. “Everything that goes wrong isn’t your fault. If there’s someone to blame here, it should be me. I wished us here. I went along with Sheldon’s plan. I convinced myself that the only way I was going to feel good again was if Spencer fell in love with me. All you did was help me. Even if you disagreed.”

Saying it out loud makes me see the last few days for exactly what they were: a stupid plan fueled by a selfish person. I derailed Josh’s life, and now my stupid wish nearly ruined his future.

“Hey.” He pushes a lock of hair from my forehead, the sand stuck to his skin lightly scratching me.

“I just didn’t want to be hurt again. And he seemed safe. He didn’t make me feel at all.” Emotion swells in my chest. “But when you were out in the water, I realized losing you would feel way worse than anything else I could imagine. Because being around you is the best feeling I can imagine. And—” Tears begin to fall. Giant raindrops coat my cheeks. They tumble out of me as the full weight of what could have happened hits like a rogue wave.

“Hey.” Josh pulls me into his chest again. “I’m okay. We’re all okay. It’s going to be fine.”

“I was so scared, Josh.” My chest starts to heave.

Josh strokes my back. “I know. But I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

This time, it’s him who shivers.

“We should get you inside.” I get to my feet and hold my hand out to help him. He takes it. And when he’s standing again, he doesn’t let go, and I don’t either.

The wind picks up as we walk back to the bar. It’s cold, but my hand is hot. It feels like fire is curling up my arm and running down my chest to my stomach, where it fills me with a burning heat.

He pauses at the threshold to Fletch’s room. It’s a silent question. Do you want to come in?

I step inside first. “We need to get you out of those wet clothes.”

His eyes find mine as he steps toward me. I press my palm to his chest and wait. He covers my hand with his, and I feel the beat of his heart through the wetness of his T-shirt.

A drip of water trickles from my temple to my cheek to my chin, then falls onto my chest. Josh presses it with his thumb, then drags it along the line of my collarbone until the wetness seeps into my skin.

My knees buckle, and I shiver.

But it’s not the cold that’s undoing me this time.

My entire body is on fire. I close my eyes to savor the feeling.

The next drop trickles down the bridge of my nose and then falls. I can feel Josh’s gaze following it as it slides between my breasts.

His hands grip my waist. The pads of his thumbs brush the ridges of my hip bones. Although his touch is feathery soft, it grounds me.

I know exactly what I’m about to do.

I know exactly what I want as I rise up onto my toes.

Our lips crash together, hard and hungry. My hips press to his as he pulls me close. Tight. Firm. Like he’ll never let go.

When he parts my lips with his tongue, it’s as if he’s repeating back to me exactly what I’m thinking. This is good. This is right. This is the way it’s all supposed to be.

Not Fletch and Sloan.

Not pretending.

Us.

My fingers find their way under Josh’s wet shirt to the abs I’ve been coveting from afar. I slide my hands up his chest until the material of his shirt stops me.

He laughs with a “Need a little help?,” then lifts it off in one smooth motion.

I have this desire to run my hands over every inch of his skin. To suck and taste. But he reaches for the hem of my top, and before I can say “Take it off,” it’s joining his in a wet puddle on the floor.

“You’ve made the next part easy.” I nod at his absence of pants and the wet boxers straining to hold in his erection.

“Then let’s do you first.” He walks me back till the backs of my knees hit the corner of the mattress, then kisses me until I fall onto the bed.

He slides the rest of my dress off in a single fluid motion and smiles at my nearly naked body. “Now we’re even.”

He leans in, reaching behind me to undo my bra. He plants a soft kiss just below my ear as he slips it off and tosses it somewhere out of view. His fingers trace the curve of my collarbone, then dip low between my breasts. His thumb drags across my chest until it circles my nipple.

I close my eyes and moan, then let out a soft ahhhhh as his thumb is replaced with his tongue. He repeats the whole experience on the other side. All the while, a deep ache builds between my legs. I have completely abandoned any further rational thought, too caught up in the contrasting sensations of the rough pad of his thumb and the wetness of his mouth.

His body shifts, and I immediately notice the absence of heat, but I am too distracted by his tongue, which has abandoned my breast to head south. His fingers tickle as they run along the elastic of my underwear, then curl and tug until they’re around my ankles. The tip of his nose traces a long line from my ankle to my knee, up my inner thigh to my hip bone, where his tongue takes over as it drags all the way to my belly button.

My fingers grip the bedsheets. “You’ve barely touched me, and I’m almost there.”

He laughs. The heat of his breath on my skin only furthers my point. “We’re just getting started.”

His fingers find my entrance, and as he drags his index finger through my wetness, my hips drive off the bed.

“Holy Moses.” My abs contract, lifting my shoulders off the bed.

“Am I okay to keep going?” he asks.

“I cannot be held responsible for my reaction if you stop. Please continue.”

Josh does not continue. He presses a knee between my legs and meets my lips with a hard, hungry kiss. He doesn’t relent until my head falls back, landing on the pillow. This time, when his finger finds my folds, it’s to part them, and the next sensation is the long, slow lick of his tongue.

“Oh my god, Josh.” I’m very aware of how loud I’m yelling his name. He does it again, over and over, until I lose count of all the Joshes I have screamed out to the universe. When he inserts a finger, then two, and starts to move in and out, I lose complete control of anything and everything coming out of my mouth. I try to swear. I definitely moan. And when the pressure builds to the point that I can no longer take it, I let out a long, loud ahhhhh as I get a euphoric rush that fizzles through my body.

I barely notice when he crawls up and lies beside me. “How was that?”

My arm flops onto his chest. “Ask me again in a minute when my soul returns to my body.”

I could fall asleep happy. Curl up in a ball, close my eyes, and dream of a naked Josh. But although Josh is lying comfortably beside me, one part of him is still very much awake.

“I need about thirty more seconds to recover, then I will be good to go.” I reach beneath his boxers and stroke him, my thumb brushing over his soft, velvety tip. It twitches in my hand. Now it’s his turn to moan.

I continue to stroke him, loving how hard he is from just the touch of my fingers, hearing the noises he’s making and knowing it’s me that’s causing them. Then a worrying thought surfaces.

“Question for you. Do you have a condom?”

Josh’s hazy, sleepy eyes grow wide.

“No,” I moan. “This is Carson’s Cove. Sex before marriage ranks right up there with underage drinking in the actions-have-consequences storylines.”

Josh reaches into the nightstand and pulls out a strip of condoms. A very long strip of condoms.

“I get the impression my man Fletch is smarter than people give him credit for. He has this place figured out.” He pulls one off the strip and rips the packaging with his teeth. He removes his boxers and rolls the condom on, then takes my head between his hands to kiss me. It’s sweet and slow, and my stomach fills with a thousand happy butterflies.

He grabs my hips and flips me onto my back in a single smooth motion. His lips meet mine as he rubs himself, right where I need him, getting me wetter and wetter.

He presses in with the tip, giving me a moment to adjust, then starts to thrust in slowly—taking his time, inch by inch. My hips have other plans. They drive up from the bed. He laughs, says, “I thought I was holding back there, but I can’t argue with that,” then fills me completely.

He leans forward, maintaining a slow, steady pace. My hands roam over his back, his chest, and his shoulders. All of the places I’ve been able to look at but never touch. The sensation builds again. My arms drop to the mattress as I think of nothing but how good he feels. How close I am to the edge.

He picks up speed, going harder and faster, and just when I think I’m about to fall, he slows and shifts position.

“I’m not quite ready for this to be over,” he whispers. He licks the tender spot behind my ear, and I shiver. He picks up speed again. But this new position has his hips in line with my clit. The new sensation is too much; my moans turn to ahs with every thrust. He presses up onto his hands, opening the space between us and using it to bring his thumb to my clit. He makes slow circles until I can’t hold out any longer. “I think I’m going to come again.”

He picks up the pace, and I get lost in the rhythm, trying my best to make this feeling last as long as possible. Until I can’t. I yell, “I’m coming.” Or maybe he does. Either way, I go off like a rocket. My head gets light, and everything blurs into a white haze.

Eventually, I come down. Back to the bed. Back to him.

He slips out of bed only for a moment to dispose of the condom, and when he returns, he holds out his arms until I nestle against his chest.

As I lie there, listening to him breathe softly, the puffy cloud of euphoria that I’ve been flying on starts to thin. I begin to fall.

The weight of everything that happened tonight drags me downward.

I brought this perfect man into an absolute mess.

I nearly got him killed.

We have no foreseeable way of getting back home unless I give Sheldon the ending he wants. That means choosing Spencer and not Josh.

We’ve found no evidence of another loophole. Even if one exists, the odds aren’t good that we’ll find it before this Friday.

Josh won’t get the chance to buy back his father’s bar. He’ll lose his dream because of me.

I tilt my head up, kissing Josh’s jawbone softly, savoring the way his stubble scratches my lips. I try to memorize how good it feels to lie here in his arms. How he smells. How safe I feel. How happy.

There’s no easy way out of this.

Which means I need to do it the hard way.