Chapter 11 #2
The realization hit him like cold water.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept more than two hours without waking, without the restless energy that usually drove him out of bed before dawn.
But last night—after everything they'd shared, after she'd shown him what stillness felt like—he'd closed his eyes and simply... stopped.
The camera sat on the nightstand where she'd left it. The photo she'd taken of him was still there, proof that someone had seen him without the mask. Without the hustle.
Delaney stirred against him, making a soft sound that went straight to his gut.
"You're staring." Her voice was sleep-rough, amused.
"You're beautiful."
She laughed, the sound vibrating against his chest. "I haven't even opened my eyes yet."
"Don't need to." Float tightened his arm around her, pulling her closer. "I've been looking at you for ten minutes. I know what I'm seeing."
Delaney finally opened her eyes, hazel bright in the morning light. She studied his face with that photographer's attention, reading him the way she read everything.
"You slept," she said. Not a question.
"Yeah."
"All night?"
"All night."
Something soft moved through her expression. She reached up and traced the line of his jaw, his cheekbone, the corner of his mouth.
"You look different when you're rested. Younger."
"I feel different." Float caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. "You did that."
"I didn't do anything."
"You did everything."
He rolled them until she was beneath him, her hair spread across the pillow like dark silk. The sheet had slipped, revealing the curve of her shoulder, the hollow of her throat, skin he'd learned last night but wanted to memorize again.
"Float—"
"I want to see you in the daylight." His voice came out rough. "Last night was dark. I want to see all of you when there's nowhere to hide."
Delaney's breath caught. Her hands came up to his chest, not pushing away—anchoring.
"Then look."
He did.
Float pulled the sheet away slowly, letting the morning light paint her body in shades of gold and cream.
She was lean, strong, the kind of muscle that came from carrying equipment and holding steady through chaos.
A scar on her hip he hadn't noticed last night.
A freckle below her collarbone that made him want to trace it with his tongue.
"Beautiful," he murmured, lowering his mouth to her throat. "Every inch of you."
Delaney's fingers threaded through his hair as he kissed his way down her body.
This wasn't the desperate need of last night, when she'd shown up at his door and they'd fallen into each other like drowning people finding air.
This was slower. Deliberate. A man taking his time with something precious.
"You're different in the morning," she breathed as his mouth found the curve of her breast.
"Different how?"
"Less careful." Her back arched as he circled, teased, took his time. "Like you're not holding anything back."
"I'm not." Float lifted his head to meet her eyes. "Not with you. Not anymore."
He kissed her then—deep and thorough, the kind of kiss that made promises without words. Delaney matched him, her hands mapping his back, pulling him closer, demanding more.
They moved together without the urgency of last night. Float learned her body in the daylight—what made her gasp, what made her moan, what made her dig her nails into his shoulders and whisper his name like a prayer.
"Mine," he said against her skin, the word a claiming and a question at once.
"Yours." She pulled his face up to look at her. "But you're mine too. That's how this works."
"I know."
He showed her.
Afterward, they lay tangled in sheets that smelled like sweat and satisfaction, sunlight streaming through the window, the compound slowly waking up around them.
"I should make coffee," Float said without moving.
"You should."
Neither of them moved.
Delaney's fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest, following the lines of muscle, the ridges of his ribs. Her touch was curious, unhurried, the touch of a woman who had time.
"I want to photograph you like this," she said.
"Like what?"
"Relaxed. Unguarded." She propped herself up on one elbow to look at him. "Every shot I've taken of you, there's been some tension in your body. Even when you're at peace, there's a part of you bracing for something."
"Force of habit."
"I know." She leaned down and kissed his chest, right over his heart. "But right now, there's nothing. You're just... here."
Float reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You make me want to be here. Not running. Not hustling. Just... present."
"That's all I want." Delaney's eyes were soft. "You, present. With me."
"Then you've got it."
He pulled her down for another kiss, and the morning stretched on.
Eventually, they made it to the kitchen.
Float started the coffee while Delaney wrapped herself in one of his shirts—too big on her, hanging to mid-thigh, somehow more appealing than anything else he'd ever seen her wear.
"That's mine," he said, watching her pad barefoot across the cabin floor.
"I know." She smiled at him over her shoulder. "Consider it claimed."
"The shirt or you?"
"Both."
Float laughed—a real laugh, the kind that still surprised him when it came out. He crossed to her and backed her against the counter, one hand on either side of her hips.
"Both," he agreed, and kissed her again.
The coffee finished brewing. Neither of them noticed.
Delaney's legs wrapped around his waist as he lifted her onto the counter, the shirt riding up, his hands sliding underneath to find skin still warm from bed. She gasped against his mouth and pulled him closer.
"Float—the coffee—"
"It'll keep."
"We just—"
"I know." He kissed her jaw, her neck, the sensitive spot behind her ear that made her shiver. "I don't care. I can't stop touching you."
"Then don't."
She pulled off the shirt—his shirt—and let it fall to the floor.
Morning light poured through the kitchen window, painting her in gold, and Float thought he'd never seen anything more beautiful. Not the river at dawn. Not the lake at sunset. Just this woman, on his counter, in his cabin, looking at him like he was something worth keeping.
He took his time again.
They didn't make it back to the bedroom. The counter worked fine, then the wall when they couldn't quite make it to the couch, then finally the couch itself where Delaney laughed breathlessly and said something about his stamina that made his chest tight with pride.
By the time they finally drank the coffee—lukewarm now, neither of them cared—the sun was high and the compound was fully awake.
"I should go back to my cabin," Delaney said, curled against him on the couch. "Someone's going to notice I never left."
"Let them notice."
"Float—"
"I want them to notice." He pulled her closer, his hand possessive on her hip. "I want everyone to know you're mine. That you stayed the night. That you'll stay again."
Delaney looked up at him, something warm and wondering in her expression.
"You really don't do anything halfway, do you?"
"Not when it matters."
She kissed him softly, then pulled away and stood, gathering his shirt from the floor and pulling it back on.
"I'm borrowing this."
"Keep it."
"I'm coming back tonight."
"Good."
She walked to the door, then paused and looked back at him—rumpled, satisfied, still sprawled on the couch like a man who had nowhere else to be.
"You look happy," she said.
Float considered the observation. Tested it against the feeling in his chest, the looseness in his muscles, the complete absence of the restless energy that usually drove him.
"I am," he said. "First time in a long time."
Delaney smiled—that real smile, the one he was learning to read—and slipped out the door.
Float sat in the quiet of his cabin, coffee cold in his hand, and let himself feel it.
Happy.
Not hustling. Not proving anything. Just... happy.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand. Compound business, probably. Something that needed handling.
He ignored it for another ten minutes, holding onto the morning a little longer.
Then he stood, stretched, and went to find out what the club needed.
The world hadn't stopped turning while he'd been learning what stillness felt like.
But for the first time, he wasn't afraid to stand still in it.