Attached At Heart (Wildflower #3)

14. Delaney

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

delaney

T HE TRAIN RIDE FROM Amsterdam to the coast of the North Sea, where we were staying, didn’t take long. I spent most of it craning my neck to see the views outside the window, even though my muscles were already sore from sleeping funny on the plane.

My parents traveled abroad a lot while I was growing up but never took me. Not even when they visited Ophelia at her French boarding school with my Aunt Violet and Uncle Tripp when I was fifteen.

I remembered crying that time.

I remembered Bryan asking me what was wrong and not knowing how to tell him our parents weren’t the people he saw them as.

I told him I missed Ophelia instead, and he put on my favorite movie to make me feel better.

“This is us, Lane,” Blake muttered when the train approached its next stop. “Here, give me your suitcase.”

Too tired to protest, I rolled it toward him, and Blake grabbed our bags by the handles to carry them off the train. I watched in awe, trailing after him as he handled them with ease.

I suspected I was going to like traveling with Blake.

An Uber pulled up outside the train station just as we emerged with our luggage, reaffirming that thought. How Blake had timed that so perfectly, I wasn’t sure, but I also wasn’t going to complain.

“We’re almost there,” Blake said, a soft reassurance as he loaded my bag into the back of the Uber.

“I can’t wait.”

Smiling, I slid into the back of the car and tapped my toes eagerly as the driver took off.

“So I got a message from our rental host,” Blake said once we were on our way, and I tensed, immediately sensing something was wrong. His tone was hesitant, which was unusual for him. “There was some flooding at the place I booked, so they moved us to a different property. The home is upgraded and seaside, and they also gave us a discount for the inconvenience.”

“Okay.” I glanced over at him, confused by his tone. “That’s…good, right?”

I didn’t know much about the place that Blake had booked for us to stay originally. He’d insisted on taking care of it, which had been fine with me as long as he allowed me to contribute to the cost.

“Yeah.” He didn’t sound convincing. “There’s just one thing.”

I chewed on my bottom lip, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“There’s only one bedroom.”

Of course.

“And only one bed?”

Blake pursed his lips and nodded.

“Is there a couch?”

“It looks like it,” he said. “Based on the pictures, there’s a good-sized one in the living room. I can sleep there.”

I gave him a sharp look, which he actively avoided.

“You can’t sleep on the couch for the whole trip.”

Another shrug. “Not a big deal. There isn’t really another option, and we aren’t here that long.”

He was right; we’d only been able to get a handful of days off for the trip considering how last minute it was. But we both knew there was another option.

We could share the one bedroom.

And the one bed.

“How big is the bed?”

I mean, if it was king-sized, we could probably share it without any problems. Right? I could take one side, and he could take the other. There’d be an ocean of space between us. It didn’t need to be weird. Blake and I had napped together before. We’d fallen asleep on the couch after I forced him to watch the best movie in cinematic history, the same one I’d watched that night with Bryan, aka The Lizzie McGuire Movie .

This was basically the same thing.

Blake’s eyes finally skated to meet mine, and I realized that no, it was not basically the same thing. Falling asleep on each other’s shoulders accidentally wasn’t the same as planning to sleep together. Of course. That was why it was different.

That…or maybe it was the kiss.

The kiss that had been really so good, something I realized more and more every time I thought about it.

Not that I thought about it often.

Regardless, that kiss had made me more aware of Blake and every moment of our proximity than ever before. Had it made him more aware, too? He didn’t act like it before, but now, I couldn’t be sure. His jaw ticked, and his eyelids grew heavy as he considered my question. The air between us in the Uber thickened, and I cleared my throat in an attempt to make the closeness more bearable.

It didn’t. But it got Blake to respond.

“I’m not sure,” he said, but his tone made me think sharing a bed was not within his comfort zone.

And yet, I couldn’t shake his words from our conversation about boundaries.

You can do anything to me.

He said I could do anything to him, but sharing a bed was too much? Was it because we weren’t trying to convince anyone of anything?

“I can sleep on the couch,” I said, pushing words out of my suddenly dry mouth. “I’m shorter. Makes sense.”

He shook his head. “I can’t let you do that, Lane. I convinced you to take this trip and booked this place; it’s my mess-up. I’ll take the couch.”

I sighed, recognizing his stubbornness when I saw it.

“We can take turns.”

Blake hesitated, his lips drawing in a tight line. But finally, he nodded. “We can take turns.”

I mimicked him, giving a nod of finality as the car pulled up to an adorable thatched-roof house surrounded by a smattering of pink flowers and encased by a wooden picket fence.

“Is this it?” I asked, feeling my stomach tighten with anticipation.

Blake checked his phone and then surveyed the house like he was comparing the two. “Looks like it. I’m hoping the view around the back makes up for the lack of a bedroom.”

“I think you’re going to love it.” The Uber driver tossed us a grin over his shoulder, his Dutch accent thick. “This is a beautiful stretch of the coast.”

I smiled back at him. “Thank you. From what I’ve seen, it’s gorgeous, and I can’t wait to see more.”

“Go check it out.” Blake jerked his head. “I’ll be right behind you.”

I didn’t need to be told twice, although I did stop to grab my suitcase from the trunk despite Blake’s grumbling. I dragged it with me, charging toward the house. I felt reinvigorated. Maybe because we’d finally arrived at our final destination, or perhaps it had something to do with the way Blake had been looking at me. I didn’t know, but I’d gotten a second wind. A touch of giddiness might even be flowing in my veins, but I couldn’t be sure. Because that would be weird, right?

Either way, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this way.

Blake had the house’s entry code, but I’d left him in the dust, rounding to the back of the house and promptly gasping. The rental home sat elevated from the coastline, which stretched endlessly. The dark waters crashed vigorously against an extended sandy shore, yet an undeniable serenity calmed my senses as I watched it.

Footsteps alerted me to Blake’s presence, along with a prickling sensation on the back of my neck, an awareness of him I couldn’t shake.

“I think the view definitely makes up for it,” I said before sweeping my gaze around the rest of the backyard. My jaw dropped at what I found inside the glass wall that lined the patio’s perimeter, walking through an opening in it. “Oh my God, is that a hot tub ? And a pool ?”

Blake’s steps grew closer. “Did you pack your swimsuit?”

I turned to find him lingering a few paces away, his body tense.

“I threw it in at the last minute. I didn’t expect to be on the sea, but I knew we’d be near it.”

Blake’s eyes darted to the shoreline and then back to me. His expression grew wary.

Oh, of course. Shit , I was an ass. Blake hated large bodies of water—ever since the drowning incident when he was younger. No wonder he was standing there looking like he might bolt back to the Uber.

“Blake…” I started, unsure of what to say. I didn’t want to bring his trauma to the forefront if he wanted to keep it in the background. “Is this going to be okay?”

He nodded, but it was curt, and his eyes hadn’t moved from the crash of the waves on the shore.

“We should message the rental hosts,” I said. “I’m sure there are other property options that aren’t by the water.”

“No, Lane. It’s okay,” he insisted, more forceful this time.

“If you’re sure.” I stepped toward him. “We don’t need to get any closer to the shore than this. It’s too chilly to go in the sea anyway,” I reasoned. “The hot tub will be perfect for this weather.”

His body remained strung tight enough that I worried if I plucked at the wrong cord, he’d break. But still, I inched closer, hoping I could reach him.

“Maybe we should head inside, Blake.”

The wind was strong, billowing around us. It ruffled Blake’s hair. He swallowed hard but shook his head. His eyes finally found mine, and I saw apprehension flash through them.

“I won’t go in the sea,” I promised. “ We won’t go in the sea. Okay?”

He exhaled, and when his body relaxed, so did mine. “Yeah, okay.”

“If you don’t want to go inside, I wouldn’t mind dipping into this hot tub.” I walked over to the edge of it, dropping to test the steamy water with my fingers before glancing back at him. “Join me?”

I hoped he’d say yes because I didn’t want to leave him alone when he looked like he did right now, a bit like he might be sick. Although maybe rest was what he needed. Close his eyes. Take a load off his shoulders.

“Unless you wanted to lie down?” I added, desperately trying to deduce what he needed right now. “If that bed’s calling your name, you can take it.”

“No, I—” His voice was hoarse, and he clamped his mouth shut before trying again. “I don’t think I could sleep right now. I shouldn’t.” His gaze shifted back to the sea, seemingly worried I’d disappear into it if he didn’t pay close enough attention. “Because of the…jet lag, you know?” he added when he looked back at me. “The hot tub sounds really good.”

“Make sense,” I said softly. “Hot tub it is, then.”

Blake’s hooded eyes followed me as I straightened to walk back toward him, and it was at that moment that I realized how my proposition for him to join me might have come across. That realization should have made me second-guess it. All of it, all of this. But I didn’t feel that way at all.

“Should we go put on our swimsuits?” I prompted when Blake remained unmoving, unspeaking.

He cleared his throat. “I didn’t pack a suit, but I’ll wear my shorts.”

And then he turned to go change.

Blake and I had always done a good job of maintaining boundaries as friends.

But Blake and I had also always done a good job of remaining completely clothed in each other’s presence.

Until now.

I’d already downed a whole glass of wine from the complimentary bottle the hosts had left us and let the hot tub jets lull me into semi-consciousness by the time Blake emerged onto the deck in his shorts and nothing else.

As soon as I saw him, I woke the fuck up.

I was aware that Blake London was attractive. I was also aware that I’d felt attraction to him before, even if I was good at burying it. Little flutters that I brushed off as a natural bodily reaction to someone who looked like he did. A spark that burned a little brighter than the others when we teased each other and he smiled that uncommon smile at me. My smile.

But it didn’t mean anything. It was just a bit of chemistry that had always translated into friendship and nothing more.

But this—what I was experiencing right now—wasn’t a flutter. And it wasn’t a spark.

A fully formed flame lit inside me at the sight of him sauntering toward me with shorts riding low on his hips, the sinking sun shining a spotlight on every one of his defined muscles. He pushed a hand through his hair, trying to get the strands out of his face.

My cheeks flushed. Maybe it was the hot tub. Or the wine. Or the lack of sleep. Or, most likely, it was a combination of all of it that was making me so attuned to how fucking good Blake looked right now.

He was my husband. In most dimensions, it was considered appropriate to thirst after one’s husband, right?

Except Blake and I lived in an entirely different dimension—one where marriage was simply a means to an end. And, in reality, we were just friends who shared a last name. And I shouldn’t be looking at him like this or feeling less-than-friendly things.

“Delaney?”

“Sorry.” I snapped myself out of it with a shake of a head, and my cheeks burned hotter. “Did you say something?”

Blake’s lips tilted as he slid into the hot tub. “I asked if you wanted another glass of wine.”

And because I needed something to do other than just stare at my husband, I waved away his question. “I’ll get it.”

But getting it meant I had to pass Blake to climb out of the hot tub, and my skin brushed against his beneath the water. I wasn’t even sure which part of my body had touched which part of his because I felt that little bit of contact everywhere . There wasn’t a single cell in my body that wasn’t reverberating with heat at the moment, and while I wanted to blame the hot, steaming water, I knew I couldn’t.

Blake, however, remained unfazed. He averted his eyes as I slipped past him, staring out at the sea, a haziness in his gaze. He was apparently the sane one between the two of us, and I took a few deep breaths as I walked back into the house, trying to get myself to his level of unbothered. After all, we had a whole honeymoon left to get through; I couldn’t unravel the very first night.

When I returned to the hot tub with my full glass of wine, I retreated to my spot across from Blake, rubbing my sore neck as I lowered into the water, wondering if I could sink deep enough for the jets to hit my aching muscles. But when I realized it wouldn’t happen, I flopped back against the seat with a sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

Blake was watching me, a frown on his face.

I shrugged. “Just got a kink.”

“A kink?”

“In my neck, from sleeping on the plane.”

His attention dropped to my neck, studying it like he could heal me with his gaze. “Ah, so not the fun kind.”

I lifted a brow, smirking without meaning to. “And what do you know about that?”

His gaze flicked to me before he looked away. “Know about what?”

“Kinks.”

He rolled his bottom lip into his mouth before breathing, “We’ve never been the kind of friends who talk about our sex lives, Lane.”

“No,” I agreed. “Just the kind of friends who get married.”

Blake cracked a smile before chancing a glance back at me. “Touché.”

We fell silent; the only sounds of our conversation were the whirring jets of the hot tub and the more distant lull of waves. But my brain was anything but quiet. Blake’s words kept repeating in my brain.

We’ve never been the kind of friends who talk about our sex lives, Lane.

Friends who knew each other on the level that Blake and I did talked about that kind of thing, though. Maybe not in explicit details or on the level of sharing kinks, but to some extent, right? But I knew next to nothing about Blake’s sex life.

“Why is that?” I blurted out after a moment.

“What?”

“Why is it that we’ve never been the kind of friends who talk about our sex lives?”

Blake poked at the bubbles on the water’s surface. “Do either of us have a very active sex life to talk about?”

“Touché,” I muttered. “Even though you didn’t have to call me out like that.”

He shrugged. “I called us both out.”

His logic quieted my thoughts, but only partly. Maybe we didn’t have much of a sex life now , but surely that hadn’t been the case for the last decade.

“Here, turn around,” Blake said, motioning for me to spin in my spot. “Let me take care of that neck.”

I did as he said. Mostly because my neck was throbbing but also because I was worried if I didn’t, I’d start asking more intrusive questions that would threaten our honeymoon. But then I felt the pad of Blake’s thumbs graze the base of my neck, and I realized that him touching me was probably not going to make our situation better. I nearly opened my mouth to lie, to say it felt better, to claim I needed more wine, anything, anything that kept just a bit of distance between my already on-fire senses and my hot husband.

Before I could come up with an excuse, though, Blake dug his fingers into the knot in my neck, and a groan flew out of me. My body surrendered to his touch, needing the relief he was readily supplying.

“That the spot?” he asked, his voice sounding more carefully controlled than it had been minutes ago. I recognized it as a part of his concentration state, the way he sounded when he was dialed into something. I certainly hadn’t expected Blake to be this passionate about massaging my neck, but I was not caring at the moment.

“Yeah,” I gasped as he dug in even deeper. “Right there.”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Good.”

My head felt too heavy to keep upright, so I rested it on the edge of the tub, letting Blake have full range of my neck. He took advantage of this, caressing a path up my spine and then kneading his fingers back down it. I closed my eyes, feeling lost to the sensation of his touch, the water, and the thick air around us. The combination had me dozing in and out of heaven.

“Oh my God, Blake ,” I moaned as he found that spot again. The one that had originally sent me into a spiral.

“Jesus Christ,” Blake rasped as I tried to hold in another groan and failed. “Hey, Lane?”

His direct question drew me out of the stupor he’d temporarily put me in. “Yeah?”

“I might be your friend who happens to also be your husband…” he started, his words suddenly husky and strained, alerting something inside me. “But I’m also just a man. And if you keep moaning my name like that…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Why didn’t he finish the sentence?

Why did I want him to finish the sentence?

“I’m sorry,” I breathed, my lungs struggling to find the air I needed to think clearly. “You can…stop.”

“It’s fine,” he murmured after a beat, his hands still working into me. I bit my lip to keep quiet when his fingers passed over that spot again.

“Blake, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

God, this was embarrassing.

“I’m not uncomfortable.” Blake huffed a humorless laugh. “Not like that,” he added in a hushed voice. He was close enough that I felt his release of breath as he exhaled. It hit the sensitive hollow below my ear, and now I was holding in my sounds for another reason. “I’m sorry.”

His apology was almost inaudible, but I heard it.

My body pulsed. The steam swirled around us. I didn’t know how to breathe, let alone think about what to say next. All the words we’d said rolled around in my brain, and I tipped my head to the side to whisper the only realization that surfaced.

“This is why we don’t talk about our sex lives, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, Lane.”

His hands vanished, making me want to protest. But I could tell by the sound of him pushing through the water that he was already backing away.

“This is why we don’t talk about our sex lives.”