Chapter Thirteen
Moriah woke slowly, her body warm, heavy in a way that felt unfamiliar but not unwelcome. For a moment, she didn’t move, letting herself drift in that quiet space between sleep and awareness, where everything felt softer, less complicated, and nothing had a name yet.
Sound reached her first. The steady rhythm of the ocean through the cracked-open window. Waves rolling in, then pulling back again in a constant, measured cadence. It should have felt distant, but in the beach house, the sound wrapped around everything. Closer… KC’s breathing was slow and even.
That’s when awareness settled in.
She was curled against him, one of his arms draped loosely around her, his hand resting at her waist. Heat surrounded her—solid, real, and inescapable.
She hadn’t slept like this in… she couldn’t remember how long.
Not without tension coiled somewhere beneath the surface.
Not without waiting for something to shift, to go wrong.
Her eyes opened.
Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a pale glow across the room, softening edges and shadows alike. She turned her head slightly, studying him. His face was relaxed in sleep, the usual tension gone. No guarded edges. No watchful intensity. Just… him.
A quiet weight settled inside her, small but impossible to ignore.
Careful not to wake him, she shifted just enough to free her hand. Even that small movement felt fragile, as if the moment might break if she moved too quickly. She hesitated, her fingers hovering in the space between them.
Then she touched him.
Her fingertips brushed lightly over his chest, testing, almost as if she expected him to disappear. Warmth met her immediately, solid and real, and something inside her eased without permission.
She let her hand drift, tracing along his arm, following the line of muscle beneath his skin. There was strength there—undeniable yet controlled. The kind that could do damage if it wanted to.
But it hadn’t. Not to her. Not once.
Even earlier, he’d held nothing back and still taken care with her, every touch deliberate, every moment shared, not taken. He’d made her feel… valued. Wanted.
Cherished.
Something she hadn’t realized she’d been missing until now.
Her fingers stilled, that thought sinking in deeper than she expected. It should have comforted her. Instead, it left her off balance in a way she didn’t understand.
Because it would be so easy to trust him.
Too easy.
Her gaze dropped to where his hand rested against her side. Even in sleep, he held her close, like letting go wasn’t something he planned to do. Like she belonged exactly where she was.
The thought came without warning.
Belonged.
Her throat tightened.
She drew in a slow breath, trying to push that word away, but it lingered, settling deeper than she wanted. She couldn’t stay. She didn’t have that luxury. Staying meant being found and risking both their lives—and she couldn’t let that happen.
And yet…
Her thumb brushed absently over his skin, a quiet, repetitive motion she didn’t fully register at first. Warmth met her touch, smooth over hard muscle, the contrast making her more aware of him, not less.
He didn’t stir. Didn’t tighten his hold or pull away.
He stayed there, solid and certain, like he trusted her as much as she was beginning to trust him.
The realization didn’t ease anything.
If anything, it made it worse.
Because this wasn’t just about wanting him anymore—that part had been obvious hours ago, undeniable and impossible to ignore. This was something deeper, something that reached past the physical and into a part of her she couldn’t afford to let anyone touch—not when it would put them in danger.
Her gaze drifted back to his face, taking in the details she hadn’t allowed herself to linger on before. The faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. The way his hair fell slightly across his forehead. The quiet rise and fall of his chest beneath her hand.
She let her fingers move again, slower this time, brushing lightly over his arm, then up toward his bare shoulder. The motion was almost absentminded, but each pass made something inside her shift a little more, soften in ways she didn’t trust.
The unfamiliarity of it caught her off guard. Not the closeness—but how easily she’d let it happen. How quickly she’d wanted it.
KC’s arm tightened slightly in his sleep, a subtle adjustment that drew her closer instead of pushing her away. Her fingers curled lightly against him, holding on while trying not to wake him.
This was dangerous. Not because of him. Because of what he made her feel.
Her gaze shifted toward the window, watching the pale moonlight spill across the floor and the faint movement of the curtains in the breeze. Outside, the ocean continued its steady rhythm, unchanged, constant.
But everything else felt like it was shifting.
She pressed her lips together, forcing herself to think past the moment. Morning would come. Reality would follow. Decisions she didn’t want to make would be waiting for her, whether she was ready or not.
She couldn’t stay here forever.
Couldn’t stay with him.
The truth of that sat heavily in her chest, even as her body refused to move away.
Her attention returned to him, drawn back despite herself. Even like this—relaxed, unaware—he pulled her in. There was no effort to it. No expectation. Just his presence.
And somehow, that was harder to resist than anything else.
She wanted to remember this.
The quiet of the room. The distant ocean. The heat of his body. How they fit together like it came naturally.
A thought she shouldn’t linger on.
Her eyes closed briefly as she rested her forehead against his shoulder, breathing him in without meaning to. The scent of him—clean, warm, and undeniably him—settled into her senses, something she knew she wouldn’t forget.
She should pull back, put space between them, and remind herself where she stood and what this was—temporary.
But she didn’t move. Not yet.
Her hand slid along his hip, slower now, memorizing the feel of him. The quiet strength. The warmth. The steadiness she hadn’t realized she’d been missing.
For tonight.
For this moment.
She let herself stay exactly where she was, wrapped in his arms, holding on to something she wasn’t ready to name—and even less ready to lose.
KC woke on his left side, the woman beside him tucked into his arms, her back pressed to his chest, his arm wrapped around her waist. He drew her a little closer and breathed her in. There was a softness to her scent—faintly floral, unmistakably her—and it settled somewhere deep in him.
For a moment, he didn’t move. He lay there, aware of her warmth, her steady breathing, and the quiet weight of her against him.
The memory of the night lingered, not in sharp detail, but in the way his body still responded, in the way he felt—restless, charged, and more aware of her than he’d ever been of anyone.
He let out a slow breath, tightening his hold slightly before forcing himself to ease back. She needed the rest. He knew that much. As much as part of him wanted to wake her slowly, he wasn’t about to rush her or take more than she was ready to give.
Not with her.
Lifting his head, he checked the clock on the bedside table. Eight o’clock. Later than he’d slept in days. Knowing Maura was the reason for that, a faint smile tugged at his mouth before he let his head fall back onto the pillow.
He shifted again, more cautiously this time, easing his arm from around her so he wouldn’t wake her. She stirred enough to make him pause, his attention snapping back to her, but she settled again, her breathing evening out.
Good.
He slid out of bed and headed to the bathroom, taking care to keep his movements quiet. A few minutes later, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, he glanced back toward the bed.
She hadn’t moved.
For a moment, he stood there, studying her, as something unfamiliar settled in him—quieter than the intensity of the night before, but no less real.
He grabbed a pen and a scrap of paper from the nightstand and jotted a quick note, leaving it where she’d see it when she woke.
Didn’t want to wake you. Went for a run. ? KC
Then he headed out, figuring a run would burn off the excess energy still coursing through him—and maybe clear his head before she opened her eyes and reality set in.
Would she regret last night?
He sure as heck didn’t.
With his socks, sneakers, and a towel in hand, he left the bedroom, easing the door closed behind him. He made a quick stop in the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator, then stepped out onto the back deck.
Surprisingly, his brother Brian sat in a chair, a cup of coffee in hand, staring at the ocean.
“Hey, bro. Good to see you.” KC paused, eyeing him. “Why didn’t you knock or just let yourself in?”
Brian glanced over with a smirk. He was two years younger than KC and the spitting image of their mother. With his good looks, brown eyes, and dirty blond hair, he’d won his senior class yearbook category of “Most Handsome”—a fact he never let his other brothers forget.
“Uncle Dan suggested you might need some extra rest. Guess he was right.” He waggled his eyebrows.
Inwardly, KC groaned, choosing not to take the bait. His brother knew Maura was there. And if he’d put together Dan’s little matchmaking effort, that made it worse. No point feeding into it.
Leaving the towel and water on the railing by the stairs, he dropped into a chair long enough to pull on his socks and shoes. “Want to take a run?”
Brian sipped his coffee and then shook his head. “Already did five miles this morning. I’ll hang here and wait for you to get back.”
“Suit yourself.”
“I always do.”
Yeah. That sounded about right.