Page 69 of Meet Me in the Valley (Oakwood Valley #2)

Chapter Forty-Two

LOGAN

There are endless versions of Tia where she’s at her most beautiful.

One of them is Tia on the back of my bike, arms circled tight around my waist, head thrown back as she belts the lyrics to a song.

It’s carefree, a little wild, and wrapped in nostalgia.

It takes me back to those early days of our friendship when we’d cram into her dorm room, spinning old records while pretending we were studying for an exam we both knew we’d wing.

Another is Tia with our friends. It’s where I witness her heart double in size—when she drops everything without hesitation, no matter the hour, no matter the chaos.

She’s the bury-the-body kind of loyal. The one who shows up expecting nothing in return, every time.

Something I won’t ever take for granted.

But then there’s this version of Tia. Right here, right now.

Asleep in my arms with bare skin and soft curves, bathed in that hazy blue hour light that comes just before the sun climbs over the valley.

Her onyx hair scatters across the pillow, ends brushing my chest and chin.

Her face is all peace. Just her, stripped down completely.

Free of makeup. Long, thick black lashes resting against her cheeks.

Naked skin, warm from sleep. There’s a faint smile playing at the corner of her lips, like she’s dreaming of something good.

Her breaths even and calm, cresting like soft waves.

And fuck, she’s never looked more perfect.

Just a few hours ago, I got lost in the bliss of her body.

Everything she offered to me was like a precious gift.

She was handing me trust with her heart, her mind.

Parts of her she freely gave to me to protect.

Pieces of her she surrendered, knowing I’d be the only one to piece anything broken back together.

And there I was—heart in hand, ready to offer the last part of myself. The part I never thought I could give away. The part I used to keep locked up because I didn’t think I deserved a love that stayed.

But I’d done the work. I’d faced the darkness without her, wrestled through the wreckage of who I was and who I wanted to be.

And every hard-won realization brought me here. To her. To this moment.

Tia was always the one. My one. The woman who shifted the entire axis of my life by showing me how to face myself and love harder, without fear. Without running.

With her tucked against me, back to my front, I press a smile into her hair, breathing her in like it’s the first time. The scent of her hits deep, cutting through me as it fills every hollow space I used to carry.

A fierce swell of gratitude surges through me. A reel of memories flashes through my mind like the scrapbook she made me for Christmas, each one a snapshot of the life we’ve been building, even when we were apart.

Every laugh. Every fight. Every almost.

All of it brought us here.

Bodies flush, I tighten my grip around her like I could somehow get closer—like I could plunge my soul into the depths of hers and never come up for air.

The early morning light spills across her skin, blue and soft, casting her in a glow that feels unreal. Like she’s not even from this world. Like we’re somewhere else entirely off the grid, on our own planet, where it’s just us.

And that’s what it feels like.

Just us.

I brush her hair off her shoulder and press a kiss there. Then another, trailing up to the bend of her neck. I nip her earlobe gently, and her body shifts instinctively against mine like her mind knows what it craves before it’s fully awake.

I fucking love that.

My fingers grip her hips as she moves with that half-asleep rhythm, pushing back into me, sighing in that way that unravels me every damn time.

I press open-mouth kisses along her neck, hungry but unhurried, worshipping her in the stillness of early morning before the rest of the world can reach us.

Tia hums again, her body pressing tighter into mine, hips undulating in that half-conscious rhythm like she’s still dreaming.

Tia doesn’t speak. She doesn’t have to. I feel it in the way she melts against me, in the way her fingers curl around mine as I slide my hand from her waist to her stomach, holding her there like she might drift away if I let go.

She shifts again, grinding back into me just enough to make my breath hitch. My hand slides lower, over the curve of her stomach, between her thighs—finding her already warm and slick, wet with arousal.

Tia tilts her head back, eyes still shut, mouth parting with a soft gasp as I slide two fingers inside her. She’s soaked and pulsing around me, her body responding like it always does when I touch her.

My fingers pump into her lazily as I draw out her short breaths and quiet whimpers. All the illicit sounds she makes pump blood to the throbbing length between my thighs, hard and heavy between the crease of her backside.

Pulling out my fingers, I nudge my swollen tip slowly into her soaking wet heat.

She reaches back, her hand finding my hip, grounding herself as I ease into her from behind, both of us moaning softly as I slide in inch by inch.

A breath leaves her lungs like a prayer. My name, drawn out like it tastes sweet on her tongue. “Logan …”

I push in further, one hand tangled in hers, the other gripping her thigh to hold her open for me. Our bodies move in sync, slow and deep, unlike the previous hours before this, when I strung her out, feral and animalistic in our love making.

We take our time as I stave off the growing pressure in my groin, loving the way we fit together as I stay deeply connected in the most sacred place of her body.

Each thrust is slow, measured—meant to be felt. Meant to be remembered.

Tia’s breath catches as I quicken the pace just a lick, rocking my hips from behind as my hands explore along the entirety of her body.

I test the weight of her full breasts in my palms, tweaking her peaked nipples as I roll them between my thumb and forefinger to draw out the sweetest of breathy moans.

I bring one hand up to her neck, splaying my fingers tight against the long column of her throat, pressing just enough to make her gasp for breath, but not enough to cut off her air. Tia brings her hand to place it over the one that’s on her throat, encouraging me to squeeze tighter.

A low groan escapes me when her panting strains, and I feel the tight swallows she makes beneath my palm.

My other hand crawls between her thighs as I coat my fingers with her slick heat, feeling the point where we’re connected as I slide myself in and out of her, unhurried yet indulgent.

I bring her wetness to her clit, using the pad of my fingers to stroke her there.

The way she clenches around me tells me her body wants to keep me inside.

I release her throat, grasping her chin to face me. I kiss her like I’m sealing something in place, like I’m stitching every broken thing between us shut.

She breaks the kiss to moan in my mouth, her hand snaking around my nape to hold me there.

Her fingers grip my hair, pulling tight at the root the closer she gets to her release.

I feel it in the way she breathes against my lips and the slow roll of her hips to meet me at every deep thrust I give her.

“Come with me,” Tia breathes. “Don’t hold back.”

I won’t. I can’t.

We fall together in the quiet, early light. Our bodies chase rapture as unabashed pleasure crests between us, drawn out and deep—humming low in our bones and lingers for long after.

Our breaths slow, syncing again in the hush. Her back rises and falls against my chest, skin damp with sweat and still tingling in all the places I kissed her. I’m still inside her, softening, but neither of us move.

She lays her hand over mine where it rests on her stomach, tracing lazy patterns with her fingertips.

“That was …” Tia murmurs, voice low and raspy.

“Yeah. It was.”

She turns her head slightly, a soft smile playing on her lips. Her lashes are still heavy with sleep, but her eyes are wide open. Awake. Present.

“I know it’s early,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her temple, “but I want to show you something. Right after I feed you.”

Tia stretches like a cat, arms overhead, legs tangled with mine. Her body’s all silk and sun-drenched skin—I can’t help myself. My hands find her breasts, giving them a firm squeeze that earns me a sharp yelp and a swat as she drops her arms to pry me off.

Grinning, I bury my face in her neck, running my stubble along the soft skin there. She squirms, laughter spilling out of her like music I’ve missed for too damn long.

That easiness we’ve always had between us settles back in like it never left.

I slip out of her slowly, giving her ass a gentle slap—right over the spot where my name lives now—and head to the bathroom to grab a towel.

“What do you want to show me?” she calls after me.

Towel in hand, I pause in the doorway, needing a second just to breathe her in. She’s sprawled out across the bed, naked and glowing in the morning light, wrapped in white sheets and smiling like I hung the sun myself.

I’ll never get tired of seeing her like this. Ever.

“Just something,” I say, keeping it vague on purpose.

I return to the bed, spread her legs, and clean her gently—though seeing my cum slipping out of her nearly derails every ounce of patience I’m trying to hold on to. My cock is already stirring again, aching for round two. But it can wait.

Barely.

As I finish, she plants a foot squarely on my chest, pushing me back with that signature spark in her eyes.

“You’re already home,” she says, curiosity laced in her voice. “What other surprises do you have up your sleeve, Harper?”

I chuckle at her use of my last name. A humble reminder that this is still my best friend beneath that post-coital glow. I wouldn’t want it any other way.

“You know better than to ask questions, Young, ” I throw back, kissing her ankle. “Let me feed you. Then we’ll take a ride.”