Page 79 of Any Port in a Storm

My breath catches in my throat. I try to still my rapid heartbeat, all too aware that he can feel it, echoing against his chest, just like I can feel his. “You’re so sweet,” I manage at last.

Being here, in his arms, smelling his earthy shampoo, and feeling his breath on my neck, is the closest pleasure can get to pain, I’m pretty sure. I want this so badly—want him so badly. It’s almost excruciating, having him this close, knowing I can’t get any closer.

Because we’re friends, and I don’t want to ruin that. He’s too important.

“Hey, you started it,” he teases.

We dance in silence for a moment, then I whisper, “You know, I think you’re right.”

“I usually am.”

“Funny.”

I tentatively move one hand around the back of his neck, pulling myself further into his warmth. “What I meant was, I think you’re right about today.”

He turns to look at me, meeting my gaze in a way that makes the room lurch. “What about it?”

I smile softly at the way the lights from the city twinkle on his cheeks. “This really was the perfect day.”

I slide into bed next to Nick an hour later, all too aware that he’s in his underwear. That I’m not wearing a bra. I force a deep breath.

“I like this trip,” he says, running his hand through his hair.

“Yeah, me too. It’s been a lot of fun.”

He rolls over on his side to face me more fully. “Thank you again for today.”

“Of course. I’m so glad it worked out.”

His fingers dance on the edges of mine beneath the sheets. It’s the faintest hint of a touch, but it’s everything I’ve never allowed myself to want.

“Laurel?”

“Hmm?”

His eyes flick between mine. “I have to tell you something.”

“Anything.” I hope he can’t hear my heart pounding in the dark.

He shimmies closer to me, so close we’re almost fit together like two puzzle pieces—his leg slotted between mine; our mouths practically touching on my pillow.

I try with all my might to ignore the feeling of his boxers against my thigh.

“You asked me something earlier. About what I’m like with women I date.”

“Yeah?” If he’s about to tell me he’s seeing someone, I’m going to break down crying. I don’t even know why. He doesn’t belong to me.

Nick draws a shaky breath. “There hasn’t been anyone. For a really long time.”

“Oh. Well, maybe when we get home, I can help you.” The words are out before I can think better of them. “There are lots of cute girls in the English⁠—”

“Laurel. Shh.” He puts his finger against my lips.

“Sorry, professor.”

His pupils darken. “You can’t…you can’t call me that.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Why not?”