Page 151 of Broken Trails
I bite back a gasp as his fingers slide through the mess he’s already made of me, before dipping inside. “You know how fucking good this is? Having you spread open on my lap, the sun on your skin, my hands bruising your ass. Tell me I’m wrong.”
I can’t. My head falls back, the moan breaking loose before I can choke it down. He takes that sound as permission, gripping my hips and hauling me higher. The next second, I’m slamming down onto him, his cock splitting me open, “Oh, fuck.”
“That’s it, Freckles,” he grits, forehead pressed to my collarbone, voice rough like gravel. “Take every fucking inch.”
I choke out a laugh between ragged breaths. “Michael, do you have to narrate every move? People in the next postcode can probably hear you.”
He groans, and he’s anything but shameful. He thrusts up harder. “Good. Let them. I want the whole damn town to know who’s fucking you.”
God help me, he reallyisvocal during sex—dirty talk, growls, groans, the whole damn soundtrack. And the best part? I loveevery second of it. The bike rocks beneath us with every thrust, the leather seat squeaking, and my thighs burn as I move against him. His grip is iron at my hips as I roll them, grinding down on him hard, and his eyes nearly roll back.
“Christ…” His jaw clenches, the words breaking roughly. “I’m coming. Come with me, Freckles.”
And like always, the act of him coming only spurs me on, too. It’s what my body needs—his groan, his shudder, the certainty of it. I bury my face in his neck as I break apart with a cry that carries into the trees, trembling around him, clinging to his shoulders. His groan tears loose as he drives upwards, holding me down, spilling inside me.
The bike wobbles beneath us, but he doesn’t let me move, doesn’t let me escape the feeling of him pulsing inside me. For a long while, neither of us moves. Just heavy breathing, sweat cooling on flushed skin, us tangled together on his bike in the late-afternoon sun.
We end up sprawled on the grass at a lookout not long after, our jackets spread beneath us, helmets tossed aside. The afternoon has started its slow slide toward evening, clouds drifting lazily across a pale-blue sky. The air is crisp, sharp enough to sting my cheeks, but Michael’s arm is heavy over my stomach, keeping me warm.
“You know,” he mutters, eyes still on the clouds, “this isn’t half bad. Post-sex. Afternoon sunshine. My girl beside me.”
My girl.
The words shouldn’t make me warm the way they do. Not at thirty-six. Not after everything I swore I’d never fall into again. But damn if I don’t soak it up, every single syllable. I clear my throat. “Speaking ofyourgirl… I got you something.”
His head tips toward me, brows lifting, eyes narrowing like I’ve just threatened him with homework. “Me? No way.”
I sit up, before tugging a small box from my jacket pocket. His curiosity sharpens immediately, and when I hand it over, his whole face changes. He flips the lid open, and his mouth parts just enough for me to catch a glimpse of that silver barbell I’ve come to love. Inside, resting against black velvet, is a simple gold band—solid, no frills, engraved on the inner edge.
He pulls it out like it’s fragile. “Freckles, baby girl… this better not be you proposing, because if anyone’s gonna do it, it’s me.”
A laugh escapes before I can help it. “Relax. It’s not that. Marriage is overrated, remember?”
“Maybe. But still…” His thumb brushes over the band, eyes narrowing at the inscription inside. He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “What date is this?”
“The day we met. The day you pissed me off so badly in that shop, I almost drove back to Sydney just to get away from you.” My lips soften into something less sharp. “And the moment I realised my life was about to change.”
He slides it on, flexing his hand like it belongs there. “Zoe…”
“It fits?” I ask quickly, almost panicked. “I had to guess your size. God, I’m so glad it fits.”
His eyes flick from the ring to me, and back again. I grab his hand, squeezing, grounding myself. “When did you even get this?”
“After your accident,” I admit. “I knew it was a sure thing. The idea wouldn’t leave me alone.”
He swallows again, voice lower. “Why?”
I tuck my hair behind my ear, meeting his gaze. “Because I wanted you to have something new. To replace the one you wear. Not something that drags you back to your old life, to everything you carried on your shoulders. I wanted you to wear something that reminds you of now. Of us. Of something good.” I flick my hair behind my shoulder for an added effect. “Something worth keeping.”
Michael’s chuckle rumbles deep, head tipping back like he’s trying to laugh it off, but when he looks at me again, his eyes are glassy. A lone tear slips free before he can stop it. My chest tightens, and I brush it away with my thumb. Because beneath all the swagger, the cocky smirks and sharp edges, is a man who has carried too much. A man who hides the softness of his heart behind grease-stained hands and smartass remarks. A man who’s been broken, patched himself back together, and somehow still found it in him to love me like this.
His hands cup my face a second later, pulling me into a kiss that steals the breath from my lungs. When we part, I cradle his jaw, keeping him close.
“I love you, Michael Price,” I whisper. “You deserve everything in life and more.”
His grip tightens, pulling me flush against him. “No, Zoe.Youdeserve everything. A ring. A new place to call home. Whatever the hell you want—it’s yours.”
I shake my head, smiling even through the sting in my chest. “I don’t need marriage. Or a flashy diamond. I just need you. This. Us. Whatever we’re building here. That’s enough.Morethan enough.” And for the first time in years, I mean it. Deep down in my bones, I mean it.
