Chapter 24
Nox is already at the lake by the time I arrive, his black wetsuit unmissable against the beige sand. Nerves swarm up my throat, making it hard to breathe, but when I take the spot by his side, he’s all business.
“Have you tried swimming yet?” he asks, keeping his gaze on the shimmering water.
It’s a bright sunny day, clear skies above.
A gentle breeze sways the pine trees along the shore.
Water laps against the pier to our left, the place where it all began.
I kick my sandals off and dig my toes into the moist grains.
The sand is cold. A shiver ripples down my neck.
“No.”
“Not even with your class?”
I sigh, wishing I could feel awe at the beauty splayed out before me, not fear.
“The first day they came out, I said I was sick. The second time, I got in the water. I tried, I really did. But when they got far enough out that I couldn’t touch the bottom, I said I got a cramp and left.
We’ve only been out here twice. It’s been too cold. ”
His jaw ticks and he nods. “When’s your test?”
“Three days.”
“I have an idea.” He finally looks at me then, his expression simmering with an emotion I can’t quite place. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” Once, the truth to that statement might have surprised me. But not anymore. “I do.”
“Then come on.”
He rolls to his feet and offers me his hand.
I take it, letting him pull me to standing.
He doesn’t let go as he guides me toward the water.
Our fingers interlace. I grip him tightly as a wave splashes over my toes.
We go all the way up to my shoulders before we stop. He faces me and grabs my other hand.
“Lift up your feet.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I can’t.”
“You can.” He grips me tighter. “Hold on to me. Use me. And lift up your feet.”
“Nox—”
“Just do it,” he demands, no give in his tone. I hear what he’s not saying. If you won’t let me risk my dreams, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you give up on yours either.
“Okay,” I snap, the fear making me lash out. Then again, softer, “Okay.”
I clutch his fingers with such force my arms start to tremble. I lift one foot, then the other, holding on to him for dear life as the water pulls at my legs. Panic claws at my throat.
“Look at me.”
I do.
His green eyes show no fear, no concern. He’s steady, unmoving. My anchor. My rock.
“Kick your feet.”
I keep his gaze, letting the world fade until it’s just him and me.
“Good. Just like that. Keep doing that. Now go under.”
“I don’t—”
“I’ll be right here the entire time. I’ll be holding your hands. Just try. For me. Just try.”
For him, I think I might do anything.
With a deep breath, I duck under the surface. Memories flash behind my closed eyes. Alarm has me searching for the ground. But we’re too deep. I can’t touch the bottom. I’m adrift, unmoored. Nox yanks on my arms and pulls me out.
“Where—” I spin around, realizing for the first time that Nox is treading water. For some reason, I thought he was standing. But he isn’t. We’re out past the pier. We’re in the deep. “Nox—”
“Shh,” he soothes. “Shh. I won’t let anything happen. I swear. Let’s try that again.”
It takes four more tries before I keep the panic at bay. But I do.
“Now let’s try letting go,” he urges. “It’s just like in the pool. You can do this. I know you can.”
I drop one of his hands, then the other, keeping him within reach as my heart seems to climb up my throat. But I do it. I circle my legs and my arms. I tread water.
“I’m doing it,” I marvel, a laugh on my lips.
“You are.” He grins. “Now dive.”
Protest is futile with him, so I don’t even try. I grit my teeth and nod. He’s right. I can do this. I have to do this.
I straighten my legs.
I plunge under the surface.
I sink, farther and farther, surrendering to the water.
I can’t do this.
Panic seizes my lungs. I freeze, muscles going stiff. My pulse races. Reality tilts, off kilter. I kick my feet and flail my arms, losing track of which way is up, which way is right.
Just at the point when true terror sets in, hands cup my cheeks.
Fingers dig into my hair.
Lips touch mine in the darkness, and suddenly the world is aflame.
Fear gives way to yearning. Panic to passion.
I yield to the demanding press of his mouth and shift my face to the side, granting him access, opening wide.
His tongue plunges through my lips. His hand glides to the back of my head, holding me where he wants me.
I forget the need to breathe, forget everything but the delicious heat rushing through me.
He’s the one who remembers, dragging me up out of the water.
I gasp as I break the surface, blinking the droplets away as the sun burns my eyes.
He comes into focus slowly, staring at me, unsure, hesitating.
I’m not ready for the questions in his eyes.
So I leap forward and wrap my arms around his shoulders.
He falls back, taking us under. Beneath the surface, my lips find his and all the reasons we’re not supposed to be doing this wash away with the water.
We’re in another life, with no responsibilities, no thoughts, just feelings.
His hands circle my waist, and then we’re moving, racing.
My back slams into a pylon at the same time we break the surface again.
This time, I don’t open my eyes.
I don’t look.
I want to live in this dream as long as I can, his hands on me, his lips devouring me.
Nox groans into my mouth. The sound rumbles through me, touching me everywhere, lighting me up.
I hook my ankles behind his back, dragging him closer.
His palms round my ass and squeeze, holding me exactly where he wants me as his hips drive forward.
The bite of the wood at my back is my only tether to reality.
I feel as if I’m flying, launching into orbit.
His hands move up my sides, fingers grazing my breasts.
These fucking wetsuits are killing me.
I want to feel him. I want him to feel me.
My fingers gain a life of their own, find the zipper behind his neck, and pull.
He stiffens at the cold brush of water, then tilts my head to the side, kissing me with renewed vigor.
I slide my palms across his bare back, pushing the material down, reveling in the hard contours.
Keeping our mouths connected, he pulls away just long enough to get his arms free, to pull the suit down below his waist. Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed by the sheer amount of muscle, of skin.
I trace the ridges of his abdomen, marveling at how they clench with each new movement, at the way he hisses into my lips, pleasured and pained.
I rove my hands up his chest, down his biceps.
I need more.
“Nox,” I whine into his lips and reach for my zipper.
He grabs my wrist and lifts, securing it above my head against the pylon as his lips trail down my neck.
My legs tighten on his hips, seeking that friction.
My free fingers dig into his shoulder. I clutch at him as he gently sucks on my throat, then drop my head back, surrendering to his touch.
Desperate throaty sounds escape my hold. I beg him. I plead with him.
“If you have to be haunted…” he murmurs against my skin, kissing his way up to my ear as he kneads my breast with the perfect amount of force. Even though we’re separated by neoprene, stars burst behind my closed eyes. I gasp, sensing his grin against my skin. “Be haunted by me, Clara.”
“I am.”
“Think about me every time you get in the water.”
“I do.”
“Think of this.”
“I will.”
He claims my lips again, his kiss so searing it marks me like a brand.
I’m his. I think maybe I have been since the moment he carried me from the water.
And I will be, even when ten thousand miles stand between us.
When I close my eyes, I’ll be right back here, with his hands on me, with his heat surrounding me, with his groan in my ear and his mouth silently demanding submission. I don’t want to fight him anymore.
I want this.
I want him.
Nox wrenches himself away, as if he can sense the point of no return, same as me.
Everything’s changed. Nothing has. I drop my head back against the pylon, still unwilling to open my eyes, to let the real world in.
I sense him move away, the heat of his skin gone, replaced by a bone-deep chill.
I kick my feet, keeping myself afloat without his hands there to hold me.
But I’m not afraid. My swollen lips still burn.
I touch my fingertips to the spot, fighting a smile as this new memory plays in the back of my mind, as it consumes me.
By the time I finally blink the daylight in, Nox is already stepping onto the beach. His wetsuit hangs around his midsection. Red scratches line his back from my nails, and it thrills me in some primal way to know I marked him the same way he marked me.
Nox doesn’t glance back once as he walks away.
I don’t hear from him for three days, and even then it’s just a short text, three little words lighting up my phone about half an hour after I finish my scuba test.
Did you pass?
There’s so much I want to tell him, so much I want to say. But it’s going to have to wait. I offer a simple truth instead.
See you in a year.