“What can I do to make this easier for you?” he asked. “I'm not afraid of criticism or feedback. I can change things about myself if needed—or I can at least try.”
He paused as I thought his question out. The vulnerability I heard masked within it created a little fissure in my heart. Yes, Mark could be hard to work with. Yes, he had so many ideas and things running through his mind like wild squirrels that he missed things, and those missed things were important. But he was willing to take the truth. He would change what was needed in order to make my life easier. He'd even apologized when I was the one that should have done it first.
And I held a deep-rooted loyalty to him I'd never be able to explain.
Perhaps it was my new outlook on life, or maybe just a letting go, but I reached over to put my hand on top of his, then threaded my fingers through his and squeezed.
“Nothing,” I whispered. “I don't think you should change anything about yourself, Mark. We'll figure out how to communicate better and this won't be a problem. You save me, I save you.”
He sucked in a sharp breath. My stomach curled with heat when he flipped his hand over so our palms touched in an oddly intimate gesture. The feeling of his fingers wrapping around mine sent fire through my arm.
He turned to look at me and frowned. The beat of his heart pulsed through his throat as he gently whispered, “You've been crying.”
I nodded.
His gaze narrowed. “Why?”
“Because,” I murmured, “I think I'm . . . happy.”
He didn't pause to contemplate the absurd dichotomy of my response. Didn't realize how at-odds it sounded, even in my ears. Instead, he put a hand around my neck, pulled me into his space, and pressed his hot lips to mine.
I folded like a house of cards.
His other arm snaked around my waist, softening my collapse against his chest. I twined my arms around his neck, ran my fingers through the soft hairs at the back of his head. When he deepened the kiss, I felt it all the way to the edge of my body like a shot of fire.
Mark yanked me closer until my legs straddled his lap and there was no space between us. Both of his hands found my hair, tugged on it. His arms wound around my waist in a locked embrace that took my breath away. Nothing existed in the gap between us except a fiery passion that I'd never felt.
Not once.
When my breath ran out and reasoning blurred, Mark pulled away. Both of his hands framed my face. His fingertips scrubbed my scalp and his thumb brushed across my cheek. My stomach flipped over and over as I stared into his hazy gaze, thick with passion.
Instead of speaking, he pressed one last, lazy kiss to my lips. Then he wrapped me in his arms, pulled me into him until my face was buried in his neck, and I breathed deeply for what felt like the first time in my life.
18 Mark
My brain stopped functioning.
When Stella and I finally untangled ourselves from the end of the pier, I felt fuzzy around the edges. She didn't protest when I wrapped her hand in mine and we wordlessly walked away, the quiet lake at our backs. Neither of us spoke—not sure I'd be capable of it—as we stepped back into my cabin and the silence there. She resumed her place at my desk but blinked at her laptop.
I sat on the couch and ran a hand through my hair, ignoring my phone as it rang.
My mind was too busy as it replayed that kiss to hear the obnoxious ringtone. The sparkle of tears that had lingered in her eyes when I first arrived. A mixture of vulnerability and chaos in her gaze. The way she'd slid onto my lap and kissed me back like we were about to die.
Maybe I had.
Because that is how I'd want to go.
The stupid phone rang again, but I ignored it. Lost in thoughts of the hint of spearmint that lived on her breath and what else I wanted to do with her now.
“Mark,” Stella drawled, drawing me from my thoughts. “Are you going to answer that?”
With a jerk, I pulled myself from my thoughts and scrambled for my phone. Heat rose to my cheeks as she quietly chuckled. An unknown number flashed across the screen, so I rejected it.
There was just one thing I wanted to do.
With a low growl, I tossed the phone on the couch, stalked to the desk, and pulled her back into my arms. Stella melted against my chest like butter, her lips instantly on mine as I yanked her to me. For what felt like an eternity, Stella let me kiss her. Let me realize that what happened out there wasn't a fluke, and it wasn't an imagined hope.
No, the heat between us was real.
Before I let it go too far, I pulled away. Stella blinked as I held her at arm's length, a note of confusion in her expression.
“I want to keep kissing you for the rest of my life,” I said before she could misjudge my intent, “but until we save Adventura, that's not feasible. And I think I need to take a moment and make sure you're okay with this.”
For half a breath, I feared she'd run away screaming. Realize that she'd made a mistake and now she had to fix it. Instead, a warm smile filled her eyes. Whatever changed in her, I had no idea. But the Stella that walked away from the pier was different than the one that went out there.
“Very okay,” she whispered.
Unable to help myself, I smiled. “Me too.”
She moved toward me as if to resume our new favorite activity together,
