Rise: Populations Crumble, Book 2 by Gandy, A. (read book .txt) 📕

His words send a thrill of warmth tingling through me. I smack a quick kiss on his chest before answering, “You’re not so bad to snuggle, yourself. Although you are kind of lumpy.” I poke his hard pectoral muscle with my finger.

This time his laugh is deep, and before I even realize what’s happening, I’m on my back, staring up at a grinning Patrick. “In a poking mood this morning, are we? Well, I guess I’ve got to poke these ribs then!” His fingers walk up the side of my ribcage, and it sends a jolt of lighting straight through my thin sleep shirt. For a moment I’m frozen in surprise, but then the wave of ticklishness pulls me under.

“Patrick! You have to stop! Oh, my gosh, I’m going to pee!” I smack his hands away from my ribs, but his grin turns devilish and he continues the attack.

I flip to my stomach to protect my ribs from his questing fingertips, and he trails both hands down my back in a slow maneuver instead. I freeze, every muscle clenched in anticipation of the next wave of tickling, but it doesn’t come. His warm hands span nearly my entire back, and this time when I shudder, it’s from heat, not ticklishness. He slowly works his hands up and down a few times, and it feels like my bones are melting from the sensation. A single sigh escapes me, and he presses a warm kiss at the base of my neck.

In that instant, two things happened—first, it felt like his kiss sent a wave of molten heat through me. Second, it felt like my entire body locked up on instinct. Patrick felt me stiffen underneath his attentive hands, and sat back on his heels. “Are you okay, Sadie?”

“Yes, I’m fine, totally fine. Just, uhm, ready to get going and grab some breakfast. I’m starving!” I practically leap from the bed and the bathroom door slips from my clumsy fingers and slams shut behind me much harder than I meant it to. Rather than race to get ready as I’d told Patrick, I give myself a long look in the bathroom mirror. When am I going to stop being a chicken? I’m falling for him. More than falling for him.

I hear the sound of Patrick’s footsteps retreating to the hall, and the soft click of the other bathroom door closing behind him. Only then do I blow out a heavy sigh and give myself one last shake of my head in the mirror. If I can’t even admit how I feel to myself, how will I admit it to him? And what happens once we take the next step?

My body methodically moves through my morning routine, but my mind won’t stop replaying this morning’s interactions over again with Patrick. It’s the elephant in the room, the building question of when we’ll take things to the next step. But, he’s made it clear many times over that the decision is fully in my hands. What if I can’t make the leap? Will we be stuck hanging in this in-between zone forever? No, because the resort won’t let us wait around forever.

After I’m dressed, I make my way out to the living room where Patrick’s sipping a cup of coffee on the couch. My breath catches at his attractiveness. He’s wearing simple jeans and a long-sleeved blue Henley which makes the blue of his eyes shine brightly. So casual, yet so irresistible to me. I stand there, uncertain, and the silence grows between us like a balloon about to burst. He seems unbothered, but it’s like an itch to my skin that I have to scratch.

“I’m sorry I froze up before, I—I have no idea how to go from where we are now to where . . .” I trail off, unable to vocalize what was eating me up inside, despite my best efforts. Frustration rolls over me in a wave. Why is this so hard for me?

He balances the coffee cup on his knee. “Sadie, you don’t have to apologize to me. It’s okay, we’re taking things slow. Things will progress in their own way. I’m happy with whatever is making you happy.” He frowns slightly. “Unless, it’s not making you happy? Do you feel like things are moving too fast, still?”

I groan. “No, that’s the thing. They’re not too fast. Maybe—” I swallow past the sudden, intrusive lump in my throat. “Maybe it’s the opposite?” My voice sounds high to my own ears.

His eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn’t respond immediately.

I rush to fill the empty space. “I’m scared I'll never pull the trigger. What if I keep holding back forever, and things get worse with the medical director and the pressure will keep on building and—won’t that make it more awkward, and I don’t—I don’t want it to be this forced thing and—"

He stands and sets his coffee on the end table. In two strides, he’s standing in front of me, and he cups my face in his hands. “Sadie, you are overthinking this, love.” He kisses me lightly on the nose, and looks deep into my eyes. “I know it’s hard, because of the circumstances that brought us together, but you have to put all of that aside when it’s just us. There’s no outside pressure, there’s no genetic testing, there’s no deadline, there’s no population responsibility. There’s you,”—he kisses my nose again—“there’s me,”—his kiss lands on my cheek—“and that’s it,” he whispers and places his last kiss right on my barely parted lips.

My brain blanks out at his kiss, and the anxiety flows out of me in a rush. Is it really that simple? Can I really let go of everything and be in the moment with him?

He pulls back, and his thumb lazily strokes my cheek, lulling me into quiescence. I search his handsome face for any signs of discontent but find none.

“Now, my beautiful wife, would you like to go get some breakfast with me?” He holds