Page 18 of Fire Island (Fire Island #2)

Seventeen

EVIE

T he door rattles. Heavy breathing—more like consecutive rasps—comes from the other side of it. Now, I’m glad for the chair I stuck under the doorknob. I feel safe here with Cal, I really do. But the knowledge that Timothy is still somewhere in the world will always have my nerve up.

“Evie,” Cal groans.

Evie .

Not Eve.

I sit up.

“God, baby girl. Please ... Please, let me in.” His voice breaks on the last syllable.

“Cal?” I scramble from the bunk and fly to the door. Knocking the chair out of the way, I tug it open. His choppy rasps that barely hold back sobs disintegrate as I find him distraught.

Tears shine on his cheeks. His face is wrecked, and he shakes as he heaves through every lungful. Standing rooted to the spot, his hands hang, his eyes burning into mine.

“Cal,” I whimper.

He sets his face and takes one step closer before strong arms sweep underneath me and I’m in his hold, hugged to his chest before the next heartbeat has a chance to fall. I wrap my arms around his neck and study his face through my own stream of tears.

“How will you ever forgive me, mo ghràdh?”

I huff a strangled laugh that comes out more like a whimper as my head shakes. “Nothing to forgive, sweet man.”

His raw exhale turns into a moan as his face sinks into my hair. Wordlessly, he lifts his head and turns on his heel, walking into the house. He kicks the door closed behind us and takes the steps one by one, his gaze never leaving me.

He stops and lowers me onto my side of the bed, and I can’t help but scrunch up my face to stem the ridiculous flow of tears that refuses to stop. He crawls into the bed and hauls me into his arms.

“Never again, Evie.”

I sob in his embrace, fingers curling around his neck, fingertips sweeping through his hair. I wail in his hold until my face feels too swollen to take a proper breath. “I thought I lost you.” My voice cracks, and I haul in a ragged parcel of air. “Twice.”

He chugs through a sob and tightens his hold.

“You broke your promise,” he rasps.

“I know,” I wail.

“I’m so fucking thankful you did.”

“Don’t you ever send me away again.”

His head is shaking.

No.

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

I steady my racing heart with long, calming inhales as I put a little space between us, taking him in. This stoic, grumpy man that’s tried so hard to do the right thing for so long. Nothing burns quite like the love I have for him. It’s soul-deep. An ethereal existence.

Running a finger over his jaw, I lift it to his lips, then trace over his eyebrow. He cocks it under my touch, and I smile.

“I missed you,” I whisper.

He pushes up onto an elbow and looks down at me. With a quick kiss to my lips, he says, “I was missing you.”

“You can stop now. I’m right here.” I brush a finger over his temple.

He chuckles and wipes the moisture from my cheeks with his knuckles. I lean into his hand like I’ve wanted to for the past few weeks. His palm catches my chin, tilting my face up toward him a little further. “Yes, you are, baby girl.”

His lips find mine.

I melt where I lie.

Opening, I sink my hands into his hair as he claims my mouth, devouring me like a man starved. My body responds to his, needing him everywhere. Needing his soul wrapped around my own. Only then will this nightmare come to a close.

He breaks away. “It’s been too long since I tasted you. Every fucking day you’ve been here with me since I came home, I’ve dreamed about what you feel like. Taste like. And having the memory back isn’t going to cut it.”

“Making new memories could help?”

“Mouth or hands?”

I huff a stunned sound. He remembers that?

“Everything.”

“Greedy, greedy girl.” He dusts kisses over my neck, working his way down to my T-shirt. He loses a low growl when he finds my hard peaks. “Fuck, Evie, how did these ever slip my damn mind...”

“I—” He clamps his teeth around one. “Do—n’t know.”

I arch off the bed. Rough hands grip my rib cage. He moves, knees digging into the mattress on either side as he straddles me, never losing contact with my aching nipple.

Heavens above, I missed this.

I missed him .

To think I could have never had this man ever again...

“Cal,” I whimper.

“Mhmmm?”

“God, please . . .”

“Slow down, Evie. I’m taking my time. Whether you like it or not.”

I can’t respond.

Of course he is.

“These clothes need to come off, or I’m ripping them to pieces,” he growls, lifting the T-shirt as he rocks back, staring down at me.

These are the only pajamas I have here. I lift from the mattress and tug the shirt off.

Locks of my messy hair tumble over my shoulders and down my chest when I lean forward to toss the shirt to the end of the bed.

Cal traces a hand over my cheek before he tucks my hair behind my ear.

He studies my face, as if committing it to memory in some place that can never fail him again.

He brushes his knuckles over my shoulder, sweeping my hair away, one side then the other. It’s all I can do to stay still as his gaze travels my body inch by inch, letting him remember me.

Who I am to him.

Who we are.

For the promise I made, the promise I will regret till the last day of my life, to be dead and buried in his mind. Like it should have been the only thing to not survive his memory loss.

“Irry was right,” he breathes.

Iris?

We’re talking about Iris right now?

“She was?” I chuckle.

“Yeah, she was. I’m one lucky bastard. Getting to fall in love with you twice.” His voice is raw.

That steals the amusement from me, along with my breath. I sit up and drag his mouth down to mine. Hungry doesn’t even begin to cover the response I get from Cal. He devours me, covering my body with his delicious weight. Growling into my mouth before he nips at my throat.

His lips. Teeth. Travel lower. Until they close around my nipple.

I whimper, arching to offer him everything I have.

His tongue swirls, and I open for him automatically. Hips widening, legs pressing against the mattress, chest open, shoulders digging into the blanket.

“Fuck me, Evie baby,” he rasps as he dots kisses over my belly.

A searing open-mouthed kiss brushes over my hip. Then the other.

Methodical.

Taking his time.

Patient.

Mine . Again.

Thank God.

The bland days I spent between losing him and the moment he knocked on the hut door not even an hour ago are forgotten. I never want to live through another one of those ever again.

His beard tickles my thigh, and I glance down to see blues looking up at me.

“Picking up where we left off?” His face twists with desperation.

He’s asking permission.

Like, somehow, the time I spent without him—the promise I made—could have changed my mind.

“We never should have stopped, sweet man. That’s the last time I promise you a thing.”

A cheeky, sweet smile blooms on his face before fading to need.

Rough hands spread my thighs. My last breath burns out as he kisses his way up my right thigh to my aching center.

“Fuck, Evie. A man could die of starvation just?—”

He closes his eyes briefly before he growls, “You’re fucking soaked for me, baby.”