Page 62 of True North

“Dammit, Lou, I’m burnin’ up here.”

Her eyes are strung out, her breathing choppy and fast. Her fingers tremble as they leave my hair and trail down my neck, over my pecs, and back up to my jaw.

“You have me in cinders, Harry Rawlins.” The words are choked out, like those choppy breaths are more hindrance than help.

“What can I do to ease the burn, darlin’?”

“Touch me, everywhere.”

Lightning, consuming every inch of me, implodes. I grab her, tugging her onto my hips, and walk into the water. I don’t care that my boots are wet. My jeans are soaked, then my shirt. Leavin’ any logic I might’ve had on the shore line, I walk until we are ribs deep in the water. Louisa wraps her legs around my waist and leans back in the cool water, arms out like a goddamn snow angel.

The soaked shirt is transparent now, clinging to her perfect curves. The angles of her throat, the soft pulse of her neck, the jut of her elegant jaw. My breaths burn, and now I feel it. More than before. That invisible tug between the two of us which sprang to life the day I laid eyes on this girl.

This woman.

That day at the diner. For a moment, back then, I thought she was a mirage. One of my many dreams of the only woman I ever wanted.

Now, right in front of me, she waves her arms over the water’s surface, her hair fanning out behind her. The rise and fall of her breath wrenches mine so tight I can barely draw air.

“Lou,” I rasp.

Her arms still. She lifts her body off the water, arms sliding around my neck. Water runs down her slicked hair. Droplets hang from her nose and eyelashes. She’s never looked so beautiful.

So edible.

“Yes?”

My heart stutters. I can’t form the words I was sure I needed to say before. I’m hungry for her. A man’s never been so desperate. I send kisses over her neck. She leans into me, a whimper passing through her lips.

“Take it off, please. Harry.”

I growl, nipping the flesh where her neck hollows out before her collarbone. Her hips wriggle around my waist. “Off, please.”

I pluck the buttons of her shirt loose, one after the other. When the shirt is peeled away, I toss it onto the shoreline.

Louisa’s greens meet my blues, her hands disappearing behind her back. Her bra disappears under the water as she tugs it from her shoulders and her hand rises from the water, the lacy offering in her upturned palm. “Yours.”

A cheeky smile blooms over her face.

I rest my forehead on hers, taking the lacy piece from her hand and tossing it aside. I close my eyes and try to steady my breathing. The Louisa in my dreams is nothing compared to the woman in front of me.

Fine hands grip my jaw, and her lips brush mine. “If we start this, I don’t think I can stop.”

“Darlin’, it never ended for me.”

Something like worry claims her face. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t?—”

“It’s done. We’re movin’ forward.”

“But—”

“Kiss me, Louisa May.”

“Har—”

“I ain’t askin, darlin’.”

An incredulous laugh slips past her lips, and she brushes her nose past my own, lips nipping my top lip. I capture her bottom one with my teeth. Her breath hitches.

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