Chapter 15
Two days since they'd shared everything.
Delaney sat on the dock with her feet in the water, watching the sunset paint the lake in shades of fire and gold. She should be photographing it—golden hour was her specialty, after all—but the camera sat beside her untouched.
She was thinking about Float.
About the story he'd told her that morning. The partner who'd robbed him. The years of hustling to prove he was worth something. The way he'd looked at her when she'd told him about her mother, about the chaos of her childhood, about learning to smile through disasters she didn't create.
Two broken people, she'd called them. Two people who'd found different ways to survive.
But she didn't feel broken when she was with him. She felt seen. Understood in a way that went deeper than words.
Footsteps on the dock behind her.
"Room for one more?"
Float dropped down beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched. He'd showered recently—his hair was still damp, and he smelled like soap and something warm underneath that was just him.
"Always," Delaney said.
They sat in comfortable silence, watching the sun sink toward the hills. His hand found hers, fingers interlacing like they belonged there.
"You're quiet," he said eventually.
"Thinking."
"About?"
"You." She turned to look at him, studying his profile in the fading light. "About what you told me this morning. About everything we've been through."
Float's jaw tightened slightly. "Having second thoughts?"
"No." Delaney squeezed his hand. "The opposite."
She stood, pulling him up with her. The dock swayed slightly under their combined weight, water lapping against the posts.
"Come with me."
She led him back to the cabin—their cabin now, in every way that mattered—and closed the door behind them. The room was dim, last light filtering through the curtains, shadows soft and inviting.
"Delaney—"
"Shh." She pressed a finger to his lips. "Tonight, I want to try something."
His eyes darkened with interest. "What kind of something?"
"You've been taking care of me since we met. Protecting me. Controlling the situation." She stepped closer, her hands flat on his chest. "Tonight, I want to take care of you."
Float went still. That particular stillness she'd come to recognize—surface calm, currents running deep underneath.
"I'm not good at letting go of control."
"I know." She started unbuttoning his shirt, slow and deliberate. "That's why I want you to try."
His hands came up to catch hers. "Delaney—"
"Trust me." She met his eyes, letting him see everything she felt. "The way I trust you. Let me show you what that looks like."
Something shifted in his expression. The wariness giving way to something more vulnerable.
"Okay," he said quietly. "Show me."
Delaney took her time.
She undressed him slowly, kissing each inch of skin she revealed. His collarbone. His chest. The scar on his ribs she'd noticed the first night but never asked about. He stood still and let her, hands at his sides, every muscle taut with the effort of not reaching for her.
"Relax," she murmured against his stomach.
"Trying."
"Try harder."
She felt his laugh more than heard it—a vibration under her lips, a crack in the control he held so tightly.
"You're enjoying this."
"I'm enjoying watching you struggle." She looked up at him with a smile. "The man who never breaks composure, coming apart under my hands."
"I'm not coming apart."
"Not yet." She went to her knees, and his breath caught audibly. "But you will."
Delaney learned him with her mouth, her hands, her patience. Every time he tried to take control—reaching for her, trying to pull her up, trying to move things along—she stopped and waited until he was still again.
"Delaney—please—"
"Not yet."
She pushed him to the edge and held him there, backing off every time he got close, building something between them that felt like a storm waiting to break.
By the time she finally stood and pushed him toward the bed, Float was shaking.
"You're cruel," he managed.
"I'm thorough." She pushed him down onto the mattress and straddled his hips, looking down at him with satisfaction. "There's a difference."
"I need—"
"I know what you need." She leaned down, her lips brushing his ear. "I need you to let me give it to you."
Float's hands came up to grip her hips—finally touching, finally breaking the discipline she'd demanded. His fingers dug in hard enough to leave marks, and Delaney welcomed it.
"I'm done being patient," he growled.
"Good." She smiled against his mouth. "So am I."
What followed was different from every time before.
Delaney stayed on top, setting the pace, controlling the rhythm. Float let her—or tried to—his body straining beneath her, his hands never still on her hips, her thighs, her breasts.
"Look at me," she demanded.
His eyes opened, dark and desperate.
"I see you," she said, rolling her hips in a way that made him groan. "All of you. The calm and the current. The control and what's underneath."
"Delaney—"
"I'm not afraid of it." She braced her hands on his chest and moved faster. "I'm not afraid of any of it. So stop holding back."
Something broke in his expression.
Float surged up, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her flush against his chest. They moved together, desperate now, all pretense of control abandoned. His mouth found hers in a kiss that was more teeth than tongue, claiming and being claimed.
"Mine," he said against her lips.
"Yours." She gasped as he shifted angles, hitting something that made stars explode behind her eyes. "But you're mine too. Say it."
"Yours." The word came out broken, wrecked. "Always. Everything. Yours."
Delaney shattered first, her whole body clenching around him, his name on her lips. Float followed a moment later, burying his face in her neck, holding her like she might disappear if he let go.
They collapsed together, breathing hard, sweat cooling on tangled limbs.
"So," Delaney said eventually, her voice rough. "How was that?"
Float laughed—that genuine laugh she loved—and rolled them until she was tucked against his side.
"You're going to kill me."
"But what a way to go."
He kissed her forehead, her temple, the corner of her mouth. "Where did you learn to do that?"
"Do what?"
"Read me. Push every button. Take me apart piece by piece."
Delaney traced a pattern on his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow under her palm.
"I've spent my whole life reading people," she said quietly. "My mother's boyfriends—I had to know which ones were dangerous and which ones were just sad. It was survival."
Float's arm tightened around her.
"But with you..." She looked up at him. "I don't read you to protect myself. I read you because I want to know you. Every current. Every depth. All of it."
"Even the parts I keep hidden?"
"Especially those." She kissed his chest. "Those are the parts no one else gets to see. They're mine."
Float was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was rough with emotion.
"Nobody's ever wanted those parts before."
"Then nobody's ever known what they were missing."
They lay in the darkness, the compound quiet around them, the world narrowed down to this cabin and this bed and each other.
"Tomorrow," Float said eventually, "I should check on your studio. See what kind of security we can set up before you go back."
"Not tonight."
"No." He pulled her closer. "Tonight is just us."
Delaney closed her eyes and let herself drift, safe in the arms of a man who'd let her see everything underneath his calm surface.
Tomorrow there would be threats to manage. Plans to make. A life outside this bed that demanded their attention.
But tonight, she'd taken care of him the way he'd been taking care of her. Shown him that control could be shared. That letting go didn't mean losing himself.
That the current underneath could be gentle when it wanted to be.
She fell asleep with his heartbeat steady under her ear and his arms wrapped around her like armor.
Whatever came next, they'd face it together.
But for now, there was just this.
Just them.
Just calm before whatever storm was coming.