Page 18 of No Axe to Grind (Ashwood Falls #1)

She slides her hands beneath my shirt and pulls it off, tossing it somewhere behind her with a flick that makes her grin.

I mirror the motion , and suddenly we’re just there—locked in a moment so charged, it could light the whole damn cabin.

She’s staring at my chest like she’s trying to commit it to memory, and I can’t stop looking at her—at the flush on her cheeks, the way her breath stutters as my gaze lingers on her breasts, high and perfect and real.

The heat between us doesn’t just rise—it roars.

It wraps around us like a second skin, thick and almost tangible, laced with want and wonder.

Every breath syncs like we’ve rehearsed this in a dream.

Every heartbeat thunders like it’s trying to outpace what’s coming next.

And still we hold the moment, hanging there in the space between restraint and the fall.

The rest of our clothes disappear as if by magic.

When I reach for her again, it’s slower, more deliberate, like I’m touching something sacred.

My fingers trace the curve of her waist, the small of her back, learning her shape like I’ll need to carve it from memory.

I ease her closer, burying my face in the softness of her skin before taking one nipple in my mouth, tongue circling as her breath hitches.

My other hand cups her breast, thumb grazing over her peaked nipple before I roll it gently between my fingers, savoring the gasp that escapes her lips like it’s the only sound that matters.

She groans, breath hot against my skin, and then kisses me again, slower this time, like she’s trying to memorize the way we fit.

Her fingers trail down my chest, featherlight at first, then bolder, like she’s learning what makes me shiver.

I can’t stop the sound that escapes me—half growl, half plea.

She moves against me with a rhythm that’s more than instinct; it’s need, it’s trust, it’s everything we’ve been holding back.

When I cup her hips and pull her down against my aching cock, she gasps—sharp, breathless, and broken open—and that sound.

.. that sound burns itself into my soul, and will haunt me for the rest of my life.

"Are you sure about this, Tessa?" I ask again, one last time, needing to hear her say it, that she's okay with this.

Her eyes are bright, almost teary. "I’ve never been more sure of anything, Gage."

That’s all I need to hear.

Our bodies meet in a slow, aching press of skin against skin, the moment stretching like honey between us as I slide into her with care and reverence.

It's both a reunion and a beginning—like our bodies already knew each other, like they've been waiting for this.

She gasps against my mouth, fingers digging into my shoulders, her hips meet mine as we find a rhythm that feels like worship.

Her heat surrounds me, grips me, and I swear I forget my own name.

Every nerve in my body is lit up, and I have to grit my teeth, gripping her hips to keep from thrusting harder, deeper.

I want this to last. I want to remember every second—the way her eyes flutter closed, the way her lips part on a breathy moan, the way she feels like home wrapped around me.

Everything fades away—the storm outside, the ticking clock of reality, even the looming ache she’s going to leave soon.

None of it matters in this moment. All I can feel is the way her body clings to mine, warm and wild, how perfectly we fit together, like we were carved from the same piece of fate.

Her eyes roll back, mouth parted, and when she moans my name, it hits me like a lightning strike to the heart.

She's not just under my skin—she's in me, in every breath, every heartbeat, every unspoken word I’ve never let myself believe I could say. There’s only this. Her. Me. Now.

I try to go slow. I want to go slow. But the second her hands get tangled in my beard, tugging, her body pressed up against mine, it’s over.

Our mouths crash together again, kisses messy and uncoordinated like we forgot how to breathe without touching.

I grip the headboard to hold back, to keep myself steady when everything else is spinning.

She moans softly, and the sound nearly undoes me.

Her body tightens around me, shuddering as she falls apart in my arms, gasping my name like a prayer and a curse all at once.

The moment she lets go, I can't hold back any longer.

My rhythm grows wild, desperate, chasing that same edge until it crashes over me with a force that strips me bare.

I groan into her neck, stars bursting behind my eyes as my release floods through me, grounding me in her.

We ride the aftershocks together, trembling and tangled, until there's nothing left but our ragged breaths and the wild thrum of our hearts.

She collapses against me, warm and breathless, her cheek pressed to my chest as if she's claiming the space for good.

"Are you okay?" I murmur against her neck, my voice barely a whisper, raw with emotion. I try to pull her closer, needing the reassurance of her body against mine, needing her to feel the way my heart’s still thundering in my chest like it’s fighting to stay tethered to this moment.

But there’s no space left between us—not even a breath of air.

She’s already wrapped around me like she belongs here, like this is where we were always meant to end up. And still, I ache to be closer.

She nods, breathless, her eyes still glassy from everything we just shared.

"I didn’t expect this would happen," she whispers, but there’s something else in her voice—wonder, disbelief, and a softness that wraps around my heart and squeezes.

Her fingers curl a little tighter against my skin like she’s afraid to let go, like maybe she’s falling just as hard and fast as I am.

Understatement of a lifetime. "Me neither."

She grins, a spark dancing in her eyes despite the way her voice still trembles with everything we just shared. "Don’t you dare say it’s the altitude," she teases, poking me lightly in the ribs.

The levity breaks through the intensity like sunlight cracking a storm-cloud, and I can't help but laugh, the sound escaping before I can stop it. Her smile deepens, proud of herself for making me laugh, for easing the weight between us with one perfectly timed jab.

I laugh, actually, out-loud laughter, and it feels like it cracks something open in my chest. I duck my head, kiss the hollow of her throat, and whisper, "It’s not the altitude. It’s you. Always you."

A while later, we’re still wrapped in flannel, tangled together under the weight of the world we’ve both been trying so hard to hold at bay. Her fingers trace lazy patterns on my stomach, and I watch the firelight flicker across her face.

She looks at me as if she’s memorizing every line.

And I know.

I’m already gone for her.

God help me, I don’t want her to ever leave.