8. Dane Gallagher #3
I drag a hand back through my hair, slicking it away from my face, trying to convince myself to relax.
Act normal. It’s just Charlotte. Same as always.
She turns in the water, glancing toward the far side of the pool where the stream spills down the rocks. The waterfall sends a steady curtain of water into the deeper section. Then she starts toward it.
“I forgot how good this place feels after a hot day.”
The water parts around her as she swims. She reaches the shallow ledge beneath the falls and pushes her hair back before looking over her shoulder.
“Come over here.”
I blink. “What?”
She gestures again. “Come over here.”
Water crashes against the rock beside her, sending a fine spray into the pool.
I hesitate. Because getting closer to Charlotte means… getting closer to Charlotte.
But refusing would be strange. And she’s still watching me.
So I push off and start toward her.
Each stroke closes the distance. And with each one, that quiet tension in the back of my mind tightens a little more.
She’s waiting for me under the waterfall, completely unaware of how this feels for me.
By the time I reach her, the water is churning where the stream hits the rock. We stand there for a moment, letting it pound down over our shoulders.
Charlotte tilts her head back, letting the water run through her hair.
It’s an ordinary thing, but it hits harder than it should.
Blond strands cling to her neck and shoulders before slipping down her back, the water tracing along her collarbone and the curve of her throat. She lifts a hand to push it away, fingers combing through as the stream keeps pouring over her.
It’s nothing. Something I’ve seen countless times. But it doesn’t feel like nothing now.
My chest tightens, and I drag my gaze toward the rocks before it lingers too long.
“Feels good, right?”
“Yeah. It does.” But it also feels like torture.
Standing this close to her feels like holding my hand over a flame and pretending it doesn’t burn.
She shifts beside me, and something dark moves in the water near the rocks.
Charlotte spots it.
“Dane—”
Before I can even look, she jerks back with a gasp and lunges straight at me. Her arms lock around my shoulders, her legs wrapping tight around my waist as she clings on.
“What is it?” I grab hold of her, steadying us both on the slick rock.
“Snake!”
I glance past her toward the water.
A long stick drifts lazily by, turning in the current.
I stare at it for a second. Then back at her.
“It’s a stick.”
She goes still. “What?”
“It’s a stick.”
She twists to look. The branch bumps against the rock and floats off downstream.
A groan slips out as she drops her forehead briefly against my shoulder. “Oh my God.”
I let out a short breath of a laugh. “You nearly killed me.”
“I thought it was a snake!”
She’s still wrapped around me, arms around my shoulders, legs locked at my waist. Neither of us moves as the waterfall crashes behind us, her weight pressed fully against me.
Too close.
I can feel the shape of her through the thin fabric, her breathing uneven against my neck as the adrenaline fades.
Every nerve in my body lights up.
Instinct kicks in before anything else. My hands slide lower, gripping firmly to keep us from slipping.
For a second, it’s just balance.
Then my brain catches up with where my hands are.
Charlotte stills too, like she’s just realized how close we are.
But neither of us moves. Because if we do, we’re both going down.
And for one brief, dangerous second, my mind betrays me again.
This. This is what it would feel like to hold her. To have her this close without it being an accident.
But I can’t have this.
Charlotte lifts her head and looks at me. Water clings to her lashes, trailing down her cheek as the waterfall crashes behind us.
Her arms loosen a little, but she doesn’t let go right away. “Sorry. Reflex, I guess.”
“It’s okay.”
For a few seconds, neither of us moves. The water pounds down around us, loud enough to fill the space where words should be.
Then she clears her throat and unwinds her legs, sliding down. The movement is slow and controlled, but there’s no way not to feel her slide over my cock as she lowers herself.
I go still.
When her feet finally find the rock, her hands come up to my chest to steady herself. Her palms press briefly against my skin before she steps back.
For a second, we just stand there. Too aware.
She clears her throat again and pushes wet hair back from her face. “We should probably head back and start dinner. It’s getting late.”
“Yeah.”
We leave the waterfall and swim back without saying much. By the time we climb out, the light has shifted, turning warmer, softer through the trees.
Charlotte wrings out her hair and grabs the shirt she left on a branch. I look away while she pulls it on.
We start walking a moment later, side by side. Neither of us brings up what just happened. But the silence isn’t the same as it used to be. If anything, it feels… unsteady. Like something’s changed and we’re both aware of it, even if we’re not saying it out loud.