Page 86 of Whispers of Helena
And just like that, the burden I have carried for so long finally lifts.
My legs tremble as I slowly lower them, feeling the absence of him as he slips from me. A shiver runs through me, the night air cool against the heat he left behind. My fingers brush over his stomach as I kneel, tugging his jeans back up over his hips, my touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary.
When I rise, he’s already waiting, his lips meeting mine in a kiss so gentle it steals my breath. It’s a stark contrast to the fire that burned between us moments ago, a quiet promise in the aftermath of something wild and untamed.
Before I can fully process the tenderness of it, he moves.
Strong arms dip low, and before I can react, I’m lifted effortlessly off the ground. A startled gasp leaves my lips as he throws me over his shoulder, my world tilting.
“Bronco!” I squeal, laughter bubbling up as I brace my hands against his back.
I can hear the grin in his voice as he says, “It’s time for bed, Mrs. Hayes.”
His grip tightens around my thighs, and despite my playful protests, I sink into him, letting him carry me into our home.
Morning comes too soon,stealing away the night too quickly. A dull ache settles behind my eyes from the beer, and a deeper soreness lingers in my thighs. A reminder of my husband.
Beside me, he stirs, the early sunlight casting a golden hue overhis bare skin. My fingers trace idle patterns across his chest, feeling the heat of him, the smooth skin, and the light dusting of hair beneath my touch. It’s familiar and comforting. His breathing shifts, his eyes cracking open just enough to find me. A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his lips as he hums in contentment, pulling me closer.
This is heaven.
“We should get up,” I murmur, though I make no move to leave the bed. “I’m starving, and Kiran’s bound to be awake soon.”
Silas lets out a low groan, rolling onto his side to press his face into my neck. His lips brush soft, lazy kisses along my pulse, his hand resting possessively on my hip. “The men can make their own damn coffee. Kiran can have cereal.”
I squirm, fighting the pull of his warmth. “Please? I haven’t seen him in over a week.”
He exhales a long, reluctant sigh before placing one last kiss on my shoulder and sitting up. I follow suit, pulling the sheet to my chest as I watch him move from the bed.
His body is carved by years of hard ranch work. Broad shoulders, well-defined arms, and thick thighs that lead up to a backside that has no business looking that good in his forties. Time has barely touched him, the land preserving him like a relic of masculinity.
When he turns, he catches me staring. A knowing grin tugs at his lips before he grips the edge of the sheet and yanks. The fabric slips from my grasp, pooling at my waist and leaving me exposed beneath his hungry gaze.
“Not fair for you to get an eyeful and not me,” he teases, eyes dark with mischief.
I smirk, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Amusement dances across his face as he shakes his head. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Caroline.” He steps closer, hands trailing over my bare skin. “Now, get out of bed before I decide we’re staying in this room all damn day.”
Papers
Silas
Caroline isbusy at the stove, cooking eggs, bacon, and French toast. The sizzling sound fills the quiet kitchen. I sit at the island with my coffee, watching her move between the simmering pans and the counter. There’s a comfort in her presence now, an ease between us that feels natural again. It’s as if the tension of the past few months has melted away, and the years we spent apart are nothing more than a distant memory. All that matters right now is us. Just like it used to be.
I hear the soft sound of small feet on the stairs, and soon Kiran appears, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. When he sees Caroline, his face lights up, and without a word, he rushes to her side, throwing his arms around her waist.
“Ms. Helena!” he exclaims, squeezing her tight.
A soft sigh escapes Caroline’s lips. “Kiran. Sweet boy, I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you too. And you’re cooking breakfast!” Kiran’s excitement fills the room.
Caroline smiles, her fingers gently smoothing his messy hair, still unruly from last night’s sleep. “I hope French toast is okay.”
Kiran grins, nodding. “Anything you make is better than what Eli would cook.”
“Hey! I heard that.” Eli’s voice cuts through the air as he walks through the back door.
