Page 30 of Seaside Strangers
Her attention returned to him, drawn back despite herself. Even like this—relaxed, unaware—he pulled her in. There was no effort to it. No expectation. Just his presence.
And somehow, that was harder to resist than anything else.
She wanted to remember this.
The quiet of the room. The distant ocean. The heat of his body. How they fit together like it came naturally.
A thought she shouldn’t linger on.
Her eyes closed briefly as she rested her forehead against his shoulder, breathing him in without meaning to. The scent of him—clean, warm, and undeniably him—settled into her senses, something she knew she wouldn’t forget.
She should pull back, put space between them, and remind herself where she stood and what this was—temporary.
But she didn’t move. Not yet.
Her hand slid along his hip, slower now, memorizing the feel of him. The quiet strength. The warmth. The steadiness she hadn’t realized she’d been missing.
For tonight.
For this moment.
She let herself stay exactly where she was, wrapped in his arms, holding on to something she wasn’t ready to name—and even less ready to lose.
KC woke on his left side, the woman beside him tucked into his arms, her back pressed to his chest, his arm wrapped around her waist. He drew her a little closer and breathed her in. There was a softness to her scent—faintly floral, unmistakably her—and it settled somewhere deep in him.
For a moment, he didn’t move. He lay there, aware of her warmth, her steady breathing, and the quiet weight of her against him. The memory of the night lingered, not in sharp detail, but in the way his body still responded, in the way he felt—restless, charged, and more aware of her than he’d ever been of anyone.
He let out a slow breath, tightening his hold slightly before forcing himself to ease back. She needed the rest. He knew that much. As much as part of him wanted to wake her slowly, he wasn’tabout to rush her or take more than she was ready to give.
Not with her.
Lifting his head, he checked the clock on the bedside table. Eight o’clock. Later than he’d slept in days. Knowing Maura was the reason for that, a faint smile tugged at his mouth before he let his head fall back onto the pillow.
He shifted again, more cautiously this time, easing his arm from around her so he wouldn’t wake her. She stirred enough to make him pause, his attention snapping back to her, but she settled again, her breathing evening out.
Good.
He slid out of bed and headed to the bathroom, taking care to keep his movements quiet. A few minutes later, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, he glanced back toward the bed.
She hadn’t moved.
For a moment, he stood there, studying her, as something unfamiliar settled in him—quieter than the intensity of the night before, but no less real.
He grabbed a pen and a scrap of paper from the nightstand and jotted a quick note, leaving it where she’d see it when she woke.
Didn’t want to wake you. Went for a run. − KC
Then he headed out, figuring a run would burn off the excess energy still coursing through him—and maybe clear his head before she opened her eyes and reality set in.
Would she regret last night?
He sure as heck didn’t.
With his socks, sneakers, and a towel in hand, he left the bedroom, easing the door closed behind him. He made a quick stop in the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator, then stepped out onto the back deck.
Surprisingly, his brother Brian sat in a chair, a cup of coffee in hand, staring at the ocean.
“Hey, bro. Good to see you.” KC paused, eyeing him. “Why didn’t you knock or just let yourself in?”
