In this six (which was supposed to go before the one I posted last week … oops), Nick is helping Rhys onto a boat.
Once she made it on board without incident, he dropped from his perch, bumping against her when a gust of wind threw him off balance.
Rhys grabbed his arm, dragging him into full body contact. In the split second it took to steady, her touch had him on fire. He froze, drinking in the startling shade of blue behind her appraising stare, the heat therein quenching a thirst for her he’d long suppressed. Emotions he’d spent a lot of months trying to bury rallied, setting him back a few years in the whole getting-over-Rhys department.
Falling headfirst into the frigid water would have been less excruciating.
*warning: this WIP has not yet met the brutal hand of my editor.*
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