Page 73 of Avalanche
“I’m going to come,” he tells me, his voice as raspy as the branches creaking above us. “Fuck. Lily…”
I stare up at him in silent answer, my fingertips pressing into the bare skin of his back as I pull him against me, draw him in deep. He stares back at me, his eyes glazed and wide, lips parted, his hand a vice on my shoulders.
And then he’s coming, pulsing hot and sweet against the back of my tongue. I swallow him down frantically, hunger hot in my belly, throbbing painfully between my thighs. If I had enough time, I would be tempted to slip my hand down and get myself off. I could. I’m so wound up, I’m sure it would only take a few minutes…
“Lily,” Liam gasps, a ragged panting sound. “Lily.”
Those grey eyes are fixed on my face, a look of unmistakable awe painted over his flushed cheeks. He goes still within me, barely breathing as the last surges of pleasure arc through him. And then he’s pulling me up, holding me to him, his head tucked over my shoulder, his body trembling.
I’m stunned by the sudden burst of affection, by the strength of his hold.
“Lily,” he whispers, and the way he says my name, it’s like he doesn’t quite believe I’m here. Like a man in a dream. “Fuck, you’re amazing. You know that, right?”
I make some unintelligible sound, something between a laugh and a protest, unsure of what to say.
“You are. You have to know that. I… I’m so fucking in love with you.”
My heart stutters, a painful lurch behind my ribs that has me catching my breath. Hearing those words, it’s like the answer to a refrain sung and left hanging, like the last stanza of a poem. Like a puzzle piece slotting into place.
I pull back, blinking up at him, desperate to see his face.
“You are?”
It’s a stupid question, probably. Tessa would say it was, at least. Because of course he loves me. They all do, I’m sure of it.
He gives me a sheepish grin, dropping his gaze and his hold on me as he peels off his gloves, then reaches down to tuck himself back in his pants, readjust his uniform.
“I love you, Lily Dean.” His hands find mine, covering them protectively from the cold as his grey eyes meet my own. “I should have told you before, when…” he clears his throat. “I was scared. It was… I hadn’t said it to Antoine yet. I still haven’t, actually.” He worries his lower lip with his teeth. “I want to. I’m going to.” He gives a decisive nod, then gives me a beseeching look. “I’ve never told anyone that before,” he admits. “I’ve never been in love—never really cared about anyone the way I care about you. And then to fall in love with two people at the same time…”
He shakes his head, his gaze dropping to our clasped hands. To the snow between us, trodden by our feet, the imprints of my knees still visible.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m going insane. Like I’m going to burst from all this feeling,” he admits ruefully.
I bite back a smile. “I know what you mean.”
His gaze flicks up to mine and he gives a small huff of amusement. “Fuck. You do, don’t you?” His eyes flit between mine, searching. “Are you really in love with all of them? With me too? How do you cope with that much…” he pauses, wrinkling his nose, “feeling?”
A laugh bursts out of me and I surge towards him, planting a kiss on his lips. They’re cold from standing too long in these shady pines.
“I guess I’ve got a lot of love to give,” I tell him, and it feels so right to reclaim those words. To make them my own.
Chapter 22
Lily
“They found him. They fucking found him.”
Eddie bursts into the living room, his phone held out in one hand, a wild grin spread across his face.
I stare at him blankly, my mind feeling sluggish from a full afternoon of lessons. After my training session with Liam the weather closed in, blue sky turning nearly black before opening up, drowning the mountain in a flurry of white. My student had still wanted to ride though, which meant three hours of teaching in low-visibility and freezing winds.
Even after a searingly hot shower, I’m not sure I can feel my toes.
“Huh?” I say stupidly from where I’m sprawled on the couch beside Liam. “Found who?”
“When is Seth getting here, again?” Antoine calls from the kitchen. There’s the sound of a pot clattering, followed by a plaintive ‘oh, sugar’ that could only ever come from Matty. “Do you think his parents will want dinner?” Then, quieter, gentler: “Ma puce, you should really use an oven mitt, not a dish towel. You’re going to burn your hand.”
I crane my neck just in time to see Antoine taking Matty’s hands in his own—presumably to inspect them for burns—before bringing Matty’s fingertips to his lips. I glance nervously at Liam but he’s watching the pair as well, a fond smile curving his lips.
