Everything I am.

He sees past my secrets, past my lies, stripping me naked. His eyes don’t stray from mine for a second, not even as his body slams into me and my cries rise up into the silence of the dark night. I’m clenched tight, prisoner to pure sensation, aching and grasping, but I can’t make it over, the release waits just out of reach.

“Come for me,” he growls, jaw clenched. “Dammit, Jules…. comes for me. Now!”

He slams into me one final time, his raw, guttural cry echoing out across the bay. His body is suspended above mine for a moment, shaking with tension, then I see his gaze flash, and the first wave of release roll across his face. He cries out, wordless, shuddering into me, and his desperate surrender is enough to break me wide open. I shatter, screaming his name, my cries mingling with his as the storm of ecstasy sweeps through me and I fall headlong into the deep blue darkness of his soul.

We collapse together, limbs tangled, sweaty and clinging on for dear life. And as I drift in the breathless afterglow of the best f**king orgasm of my life, one thought forms from the mindless pleasure, and wraps me in its undeniable truth.

I’m home.

* * *

When I wake the next morning, he’s gone.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I wake to an unfamiliar rocking sensation, the steady roll of the waves outside the cabin. I lay confused for a moment, my eyes still shut. Then the ache of my body comes in to focus, and everything that happened last night comes flooding back to me in a rush of exhilaration and sweaty, gasping sex.

Emerson.

Emerson and me. Together. Fucking like our very lives depended on it.

I sit bolt upright with a gasp and look around. I’m alone on the narrow bunk in the tiny cabin, the sheets twisted around my na**d body. I told Emerson there was no way we’d both fit to sleep here, but he just smiled a heart-stopping, exhausted smile and scooped me tight on top of his body. I drifted off with his arms locked around me, my head resting on his chest, lulled to sleep by the steady drum of his heartbeat and the slow roll of the boat on the waves.

The cabin is empty.

“Emerson?” I call out. He must be up on deck, doing boat things. I scooch back down on the bunk and let out a satisfied yawn. I can feel every muscle and tendon in my body, an ache low between my thighs reminding me all over again of the things we did up there on deck—and then again, here on the bunk, just as ravenous, until sleep finally took over us.

I drift there a while, sleepy, still wrapped in the lazy, delicious after-glow. When I surface again, there’s still no sign of Emerson in the cabin. I check my phone. It’s almost ten.

“Hello?” I call again. I find my sundress in a heap on the floor and pull it over my head, venturing up the ladder and emerging into the bright sunshine up on deck. “Emerson?”

I look around. He must have sailed us back to Cedar Cove sometime in the early morning, because we’re tethered up back by a dock at the harbor. But the boat is empty.

I feel a cold stab of fear.

No, I tell myself quickly. He wouldn’t have left you. He’s probably just off getting breakfast somewhere, or picking us up some coffee.

That must be it. I send him a quick text. Where r u? Hope u bring back donuts. Then I go back below deck and tidy up the cabin, making the bed and retrieving my underwear from the corner of the room. When I can’t distract myself any more, I climb back up and take a seat behind the wheel, watching the distant stream of cars in town, and the slow bustle of life along the shore—and trying like hell to ignore the flutter of anxiety rising in my chest.

The minutes tick past. With every glance at my phone, my fear grows. I try calling him, but it just switches straight to voicemail. I open my mouth to leave a message, but my words freeze in my throat. What can I say?

‘Where the hell are you? Why did you leave me na**d and alone?

What did I do wrong?’

I hang up without speaking. My happy afterglow is gone. Now, there’s nothing but frozen panic seeping through my body, and a dark whirlwind of insecurity boiling in my chest. I fight to keep it at bay and not jump to conclusions, but still, I can’t stop the cruel whispers taunting in my ear.

He’s left you. He’s left you all over again. Just like the last time.

My phone buzzes with a new message, and I snatch it up, eagerly clicking through to find a text from him.

bar emergency. c u later.

I stop, waiting for another message, some note of apology, but nothing else comes. This is it.

OK, I try to tell myself. This isn’t so bad. If something happened with the bar, he’d have to go—he’s the boss. He probably didn’t want to wake me, after our marathon sex session last night, so left me to sleep on. That’s sweet, right? Considerate.

I try to ignore my creeping fears, and fetch my sandals and purse, carefully head back across the gangplank to the docks. It’s a short walk to Jimmy’s, just a few blocks, but still, I’m glad I wore flats. I stop by the coffee place, and pick up a couple of lattes, then head into the daytime gloom of the empty bar.

“Hello?” I call out, edging further inside. It doesn’t look like there’s any crisis. It’s empty at this time of the morning, with delivery crates stacked up against the bar. “Emerson?”

The back door swings open and I turn with a jolt, but it’s Garrett who backs through, hoisting a box of beers. “Hey kid,” he puts the box down with a grunt. “You looking for the boss man? He’s not in yet.”

I stop, my heart falling. “But what about the emergency?” I ask faintly, just to check. Maybe he’s wrong, maybe he just got in and doesn’t know…