Page 14 of Willow Embers
I throw my arms over his broad shoulders to pull him down, but instead of following my lead, he dips, hooks his hands under my ass, and hauls me up his strong body until I wrap my legs around his hips.
And I feel him, his hard length sliding against my heat. My breath catches. I’m soaking wet, craving him in ways I would never admit to out loud.
No, not craving. That word is too tame.
Ihungerfor him. Ineedonly him. Idemandthis happen.
He turns us both and takes a few steps. Cool wood presses against my mostly bare back but I barely notice, because the moment I’m braced, he crushes his lips to mine, rocks his hips, and drives into me hard. One powerful, aching thrust and he’s buried to the hilt.
Beauden pulls back just enough to look at me, and for a second, we’re frozen in time. We don’t speak. We just stare into each other’s eyes, breathing the same air, too stunned to move.
Until we do.
I don’t know who goes first, and I don’t really care. All that matters is that we find a rhythm. It’s rough and wanting, teeth against skin, fingers bruising tender flesh. And somehow, by some cruel trick of the universe, the way he fills me is like my own personal slice of paradise. Every roll, every thrust, builds on the last, until I’m digging my nails into his back and trying desperately to swallow my scream as my orgasm envelopes me.
A wave of goosebumps explodes across my body, and he's right there with me, his teeth digging in my shoulder, muffling his guttural groan as he comes hard inside me.
The whole thing lasts a matter of minutes, but at the end, I’m panting and breathless, clinging to him like he’s a lifeline in a storm.
And I feel like I’m torn between heaven and hell.
The past and the present.
Him —us— it feels so right it hurts, but I know I’m fooling myself. Too much has happened between us. Too much time has passed.
What I’m feeling is just a ghost of what could have been, a future that withered and died when he left for the Army.
I let my head fall back against the door with athunk. Beauden’s hot lips press against my exposed neck. He buries hisface in my damp, tangled hair, and whispers the one thing I can’t stand to hear in this moment…
“I’ve missed you… so much, Nixie.”
EIGHT
BEAUDEN
I knowI’ve fucked up the moment the words are out of my mouth. I didn’t mean to say them. They just slipped out, raw and honest. Because Ihavemissed her. Through the years, I’ve cursed her name and tried like hell to smother her memory, but I never stopped missing her.
Which makes the way Nixie goes rigid in my arms land like a hard fist to the ribs, breath-stealing and all too familiar.
Instinct has me wanting to pull her closer, hold her tighter. This woman has to see what she does to me. But she closes her eyes and shakes her head as her legs unwind from around my waist.
And all at once, it’s like I’m standing outside my barracks during my last week of basic training, gripping my phone, drowning in disbelief as I listen to the electronic voice tell me over and over that the number I’ve dialed has been disconnected.
I set her down gently and hike my icy pants up my thighs. “Nixie?—”
“Don’t.” She shakes her head again. The word is so quiet, I barely hear it, but I see it form on her lips as clear as day. Then she opens her eyes, tears glittering in the firelight. “Please, Beauden.”
When I reach for her, she shrinks away from my touch.
This cannot be happening.
“Talk to me,” I plead quietly, and I hate the weakness in my voice.
Nixie has always been my weakness. Not my only one, but the one I still haven’t figured out how to overcome. And those tears? They’re like having my heart carved out with a dull spoon.
She glances toward the fireplace, at the outline of her dog sleeping soundly under the patchwork quilt. “I can’t.”
Then she peels away from me, walks stiffly to the hope chest, and wraps herself in an old blanket like it’s a suit of armor.
