Page 183 of We Drank the Dawn

Drying off, I pulled on some gym shorts then made my way to the bedroom. Her presence covered the space like rays of light on a window sill. Funny, I’d never experienced that with someone else. I could sense a person in the room on occasion, but I felt something specific near Sarah.

Trying to put words to it wasn’t really possible, but Sarah’s presence felt the same way my shoulders did when I tossed a heavy backpack to the ground. Like walking in the door and flopping on the couch after being homesick.

Comfortable, familiar, and an instant relief.

Inching forward, I eased onto the left side of the bed—she always slept on the right—trying my best not to wake her. Her soft, quiet breaths shook my tired bones to life. Slipping my feet between the sheets, my pulse shot sky high as I found her radiating heat. Attempting to calm my scattered breaths, I took a long, cleansing inhale, scootching closer until my hand found her waist and I pulled her into the spoon of my body.

Right then and there, I knew it’d be a long time before I went to sleep.

And maybe I never would.

Her spine pressed against my chest, and her perfect curves rested in the cradle of my hips as our thighs aligned. I pushed my nose into the back of her short hair, drawing in lungfuls of her scent—flowers and citrus and an earthiness that was hers and hers alone.

I tried to anchor my hand, but…

It wandered, exploring the way the peak of her hip dove into her tender waist, the way her shirt bunched just above her belly button, and her legs—man, those legs. I stopped breathing completely when my hand trailed up and up her thigh, looking for a hem that maybe didn’t exist. But I finally found it—on the tiniest pair of shorts known to mankind.

I denied the growl building in my throat and removed my hand, scrubbing it down my face instead. How awful would I be to wake her up after she barely slept?

But no sooner had my hand left her body, than she wriggled in protest. “Don’t stop.”

“Wait.” I breathed a soft laugh. “How long have you been awake?”

“The entire time.”

I pressed a kiss beneath her ear, whispering, “So you were just going to lay there and let me suffer forever?”

“Oh, no. Definitely not forever.” With that, she lifted her hands above her head and turned in my arms, facing me. “Because I’m over here suffering too.”

My fingers curled around her leg, directing it over my own, and my arm tucked under her head. She shifted until our bodies couldn’t get any closer, her curves pressing against me. Need stole the breath from my lungs and the rational thoughts straight out of my head.

As I leaned down to kiss her, she started talking again. “Peter?”

“Hm?”

“Remember after Hollie’s wedding? We went to the hospital then came back and⁠—”

“Yes, I remember.” If her lips weren’t going to stop moving, I’d kiss somewhere else. I dropped my head, trailing my mouth from her chin to her jaw to under her ear and down the column of her neck.

“Well—” Her breaths came shallow, unsteady as my kisses neared the scooped neckline of her tank top. “It wasn’t quite dawn but—but it was close. We decided not to stay up for it—because we were so tired.”

“Mhm.” One of my hands snaked under the fabric.

“We should’ve stayed up, Peter. I—I didn’t realize it would be the last chance we’d ever have to watch a sunrise together.”

For some reason, Sarah needed to discuss this, so I pulled my hand away and shifted over her, bracing myself on the pillow behind her head.

She was right—I hadn’t even considered that the first time in my life I was up early enough to watch the sunrise every single day was here at Meadowbrook. And I couldn’t see it. Some sick irony.

“Tell me something, Sarah. Why are you so obsessed with the sun?”

She giggled a little. “I don’t know. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve loved it. My house was always dark because the curtains were drawn and the people inside didn’t like venturing out. Everyone around me despised my excitement for life and made me feel stupid for all my wild ideas. And that huge sun just felt like a promise to me. A promise of something better out there—just beyond my reach.”

“The very first time we talked—on the playground—you told me your mom was afraid of it.”

“Did I really?”

“Yep. And you had your arms turned up like you were trying to get a burn.” I sat back, demonstrating her forearms-toward-the-sky pose, which made Sarah fall into giggles again.