Page 30 of Meadowsweet and Marigold (EverAfter CozyXverse #1)

The intimacy of it — tasting herself on his tongue, knowing where his mouth has just been — sends a last, weak pulse of pleasure through her spent body.

They kiss until they're both breathless until the shared taste has faded, replaced by only the familiar coffee-and-mint flavor of Meadow himself.

When they finally part, his forehead rests against hers, their ragged breathing the only sound in the quiet car.

"Well," he says finally, a smile in his voice. "That wasn't exactly what I had planned for our first date."

Marigold laughs, the sound bubbling up unexpectedly from her chest.

"Is that what this was? A date?"

"It is now," he replies, pressing another gentle kiss to her lips. "Though I had pictured dinner first, maybe a movie. Not...this." He gestures vaguely at their disheveled state.

"I'm not complaining," she tells him, suddenly shy despite the intimacy they've just shared.

"Neither am I," Meadow assures her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "But next time, I'd like to do this properly. On a bed, with space to really show you what I can do."

Her whole face is red which makes him chuckle in return.

The promise in his words sends a shiver through her, despite her body's temporary satiation.

"Next time," she agrees, the words both a promise and a question.

Meadow's taunting smile is enough of an answer.

Clarity washed over her like cool water while Meadow’s fingers brushed against her skin, no longer igniting wildfires of sensation but leaving whispers of warmth in their wake.

The white flowers on her dress seem altered somehow as if the fabric itself has been transformed by what transpired beneath it.

"How are you feeling now, by the way?" Meadow asks, voice still rough at the edges but threaded with concern. His eyes search hers, looking for regret or discomfort. “Not as heated?”

"I'm..." Marigold pauses, surprised by the truth she finds. "I'm good. Better than good, actually. I can think straight and not feel…frazzled."

Not just physically satisfied — though she certainly is, her body humming with the aftereffects of pleasure — but mentally clearer than she's felt in weeks.

The constant anxiety that's been her companion since arriving in Willowbend has receded to a distant murmur rather than the usual persistent shout. Her thoughts flow in orderly procession rather than the chaotic tangle she's grown accustomed to.

"You look it," he says, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"There's color in your cheeks but not overwhelmingly taking your entire face with flushed urgency. Though it’s better than usual. You’ve lacked color prior, aside from when you do strenuous duties around the ranch, of course. "

She touches her face, feeling the warmth beneath her fingertips.

"Is there?"

Meadow nods, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture oddly more intimate than what they've just done.

"You've been pale lately. Stressed. I've noticed."

Of course, he has.

Meadow notices everything, especially about her. The realization settles comfortably in her chest, another piece of clarity emerging from the receding fog of confusion. He watches her, studies her, and knows her in ways she's only beginning to understand.

"I haven’t been stressed…I think?" she admits, the words coming easier than expected, though she doesn’t feel shy about admitting her uncertainty.

“I mean, coming to Willowbend was a good decision for me. An escape that hasn’t given me a sense of regret.

Yes, it’s a bit of an adjustment, but that’s normal when you’re starting from scratch anywhere.

Everyone’s been kind and welcoming. I’m excited to learn more about Flint and August, and Daisy is a nice mix, even with her being a Beta. ”

"And me," Meadow adds quietly, his perceptiveness cutting to the heart of what she left unsaid. "I've been another complication for you."

Marigold studies his face, the strong line of his jaw partially hidden beneath his beard, the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes that deepen when he smiles.

In the aftermath of intimacy, his features seem more familiar, as if she's known him far longer than the few months since she arrived at Willowbend.

"You're not a complication," she says, surprised by the certainty in her voice. "You're...clarity. I think."

His eyebrows lift slightly, surprise flickering across his features before settling into something warmer.

"Clarity," he repeats, testing the word.

"Yes." She shifts in her seat, adjusting her dress more comfortably. "When I'm with you, things make sense. Everything feels...steadier. Smooth. Effortless. I don’t really need to ‘think’ in a sense. I just know I’m safe and have the guidance before me without stressing over uncertainties…hmmm. Not sure if that makes sense, but that’s the best way to describe it. "

A smile spreads across his face, slow and genuine.

"That might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

Marigold returns his smile, feeling the truth of her words solidify inside her.

Meadow Calloway is many things — solid, dependable, frustratingly cryptic at times — but above all, he is steady. A fixed point in the chaos her life has become since fleeing the city with her tail between her legs, nursing wounds inflicted by those who should have protected her.

The thought of Rowan and Magnolia still stings, but the pain seems duller now, less immediate. As if the pleasure Meadow just gave her body has somehow soothed her soul as well, blunting the sharp edges of betrayal that have been cutting into her for months.

"What did you mean earlier?" she asks, emboldened by this new clarity. "When you said this was just to ease the burning until I was ready for 'the one I truly desire.' What was that about?"

Meadow's expression shifts, a shadow passing over his features. His hands, which had been resting lightly on her knee, withdraw to his own lap.

"You have options here, Marigold. More than you realize."

"Options," she repeats, the word tasting strange on her tongue. "You mean..."

"I mean Gus and Flint," he says simply, naming the other Alphas who have shown interest in her since her arrival. "They're good men. Better than me in many ways."

Marigold stares at him, disbelief washing over her. "You think I want them?"

Meadow shrugs, the gesture too casual to be genuine.

"Gus makes you laugh. Flint challenges you. I've seen how you respond to them."

"And what about how I respond to you?" she asks, gesturing at her disheveled state, evidence of her very clear response to his touch still damp on her thighs.

A flush creeps up his neck, disappearing into his beard.

"Physical attraction is different from?—"

"From what? Emotional connection?" She finds herself growing irritated, the peaceful clarity threatened by his stubborn insistence on misreading the situation. "Do you think I would have let you do that if it was just physical?"

His eyes meet hers, searching. "Wouldn't you? You've been under stress, and your body is craving release. I'm convenient. Available."

"Convenient," she repeats, the word flat and bitter on her tongue. "Is that all you think this was?"

Meadow sighs, running a hand through his hair, mussing it further.

"I don't know what this was, Marigold. I just know that you came here running from something, and I don't want to be the rebound you settle for because I'm safe."

The words hit her like a physical blow, stealing her breath.

Is that what he thinks?

That she sees him as a safe harbor, a consolation prize after Rowan's rejection?

"You're not safe," she says finally, the words emerging soft but certain. "There's nothing safe about how you make me feel."

His eyes widen slightly, surprise evident in the subtle tension of his jaw.

"What do you mean?"

Marigold takes a deep breath, drawing courage from the newfound clarity in her mind.

"Safe would be keeping my distance. Safe would be focusing on the ranch and nothing else. Safe would be ignoring how my heart races when you walk into a room, or how your voice makes my stomach flip, or how I find myself making excuses to be wherever you are."

She watches the impact of her words register on his face, the careful mask of indifference cracking to reveal vulnerability beneath.

"Marigold—"

"No, let me finish," she interrupts, needing to get this out while her thoughts remain clear. "You're right that I came here running from something. From Rowan…my fiancé that I thought would marry and accept me into his pack with open arms, but instead, he embarrassed me at the end of my most successful ballet performance I worked years towards.” Finally admitting the past out loud feels empowering, which makes the next words flow out with confidence, “From having my twin sister, who I’ve always supported and yearned nothing but success for, added to the betrayal by sweeping into be my replacement with everything. My Alphas…my position…my position in my family hierarchy. She literally took everything, ruining the life I thought was set and waiting for me to blossom to my best potential. I ran here…hoping to start over, but I’m not going to run away when something is good. When this connection could be grand and beautiful and maybe the reason why my life fumbled so I could come to where…I may actually belong. I don’t know…”

She takes a breath and looks into his eyes.

“Like I said. I’m not running anymore, Meadow.

I choose to stay…to build, and that means I need a foundation.

I need a rock to help me keep my footing so that when other pillars form around me, I have stability.

I have control. I’ll be gifted that empowerment I never really had in the past with any other Alpha or pack. ”

The warmth of their shared passion still envelops her, but it's different now — less the heat of physical desire and more the steady glow of something deeper, something with roots that reach beyond the events of this afternoon.