Page 45

Gently he snakes his arm under my neck, cradling my face on his shoulder, close to his.

God, it’s where I’d always dreamed of being—pillowed by his biceps.

With his free arm, he reaches for whatever corner of the tent he discarded his shorts in while sliding out of his underwear at the same time.

After a moment, there’s the familiar crinkle of a little square of foil.

“You really thought of everything,” I tease.

“I never venture into nature unprepared.”

Suddenly, Noah digs his fingers into my hip and pulls me against him, until my back is flush with his chest and we’re spooning. I feel the heaviness of him against the small of my back and my mouth goes dry all over again.

I shift toward him, angling myself a few inches upward and then back again, back until he slides in between my thighs with a groan.

I rock forward slightly, and the tip of his cock strokes against my clit.

Noah hisses through clenched teeth as I inhale sharply.

This close, it’s almost enough to unravel me.

But then, Noah draws back slightly, and I know that with just one roll of his hips he’ll be inside of me.

His free hand slides between my breasts, and his fingers curl gently around the base of my throat.

The muscles of his arm flex against my chest. His grip is strong but not choking, just holding me close—holding me so that no matter how I arch against him desperately, he’s the one in control.

I understand. We’re moving at his pace now, not mine. Impatience and need flare hot in my chest, but the way he makes me wait only makes me want him more.

I swallow, and I know he can feel it. My pulse throbs at my neck, and I know he can feel it.

I turn my head until our foreheads are touching, the bridge of my nose crossing with his. “Please.” It’s my turn to beg, to ask nicely.

He brushes his lips against mine, back and forth. “Take a deep breath in for me, Sadie,” he murmurs.

I inhale.

“Very good.”

He sinks into me.

He’s slow about it, but he doesn’t stop.

I don’t have a chance to gasp for air or bite down onto something or brace myself.

Inch by fucking inch, he doesn’t stop until he’s buried inside of me, hips flush against my ass.

And then he’s pulling back again, in and out, steady and measured, and each stroke has me seeing stars.

Despite his even pace, Noah’s panting, and we’re both sucking air out of the same small space.

The air tastes thin; I’m lightheaded. He bends his head to bite my shoulder, muffling a groan that climbs out of his throat.

“ God, ” he sighs against my skin. “I can’t even begin to tell you how good you feel. ”

I reach back to tangle my fingers in his hair as the hand on my throat snakes down my sweat-slicked torso.

His fingers round my hip, gripping briefly, and then come to hover at my waist. Flexing his other arm, he twists my face back to his.

“Stay with me,” he says against the corner of my lips, his gaze locking on mine.

“Right here.” He captures my mouth, swallowing my moan just as his middle finger begins to circle my clit again.

It’s like my brain breaks. I’m feeling too much at once. The insistent, rolling thrust of him spreading me apart, the slow dialing of his finger as he winds me tighter and tighter, the slide of his tongue against mine until I don’t know where I end and he begins.

It’s too much. It’s just enough. As he sinks into me again, I fall apart.

I imagine this is what it feels like to be at the bottom of a waterfall as the weight of an entire river cascades over you and breaks you apart until you’re nothing but sparkling bones.

I gasp his name against his mouth as each violent, shuddering wave of pleasure spears through my limbs.

Somehow he presses even deeper into me as I clench around him.

Somehow he’s still circling his damned finger, coaxing from me every last whimper and pulse and shiver, and fuck me if I never knew it could feel this good.

And still he doesn’t stop.

His hand skates back up my body and curls at the curve between my neck and shoulder, his arm a heavy brace across my chest. His pace becomes stuttering, ragged.

A little off-tempo, a little rushed—and more than a little desperate.

Every thrust has my eyes going out of focus, each one an aching echo of the pleasure he wrung out of me.

And then suddenly he’s biting down hard into my shoulder, every muscle in his body constricting around me like he might just absorb me entirely as he falls from the same cliff I did.

We both collapse boneless onto our backs, panting into the darkness. We stare up through the tent like if we could just squint hard enough, we might see the stars again.

We have no choice but to wake up with the sun. There are no curtains to hide behind, no windows to shut it out. Early in the morning, sunlight shears through the thin fabric of the tent and floods it with light.

Just like Jaylie out in the wilderness, I barely slept, but it wasn’t because of any sort of discomfort.

Throughout the night, every time I felt my eyes drift closed, I worried he’d disappear.

I worried that he was just a dream, some wild fey forest prince who would return to his realm under the cover of darkness.

So I’d reach for his hand, or nuzzle into his shoulder, or knock my ankle against his shin just to assure myself that he was still real.

It wasn’t until he’d gathered me into his arms and folded his body securely around mine that I’d allowed myself to finally drift off.

Noah’s eyes are already open when I finally blink awake.

Warmth rushes over me at the sight of him.

It’s you.

You’re here.

“I am,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my forehead. I blink rapidly. I didn’t realize I said it out loud.

“You’re still naked.”

He looks down. “I am.”

Good, I think, raising my head to press my lips to his. We might not be sleeping in, but I’m not getting out of bed anytime soon.

Hours later, we’re finally having a breakfast of granola bars and excellent cold brew coffee from Noah’s giant water bottle.

I’m wrung out in the best way, and I lounge in one of the camp chairs with my feet propped up on the cooler.

We’ve already cleaned everything up and tucked it all away, and all that’s left is to enjoy the morning as it stretches out before us.

“It’s true, y’know. What they say,” I observe.

From where he’s seated on his own chair, Noah tilts his head down to look at me over the rims of his sunglasses. His hair’s a mess. We’re facing the ledge over the lake, and the sun is already dancing across the water. “What do they say, Sadie?”

“About having sex while camping.”

“Please, no,” he begs.

I drill my gaze into his. “It’s intense.” I gesture to where the tent sits, already disassembled and packed up in its bag behind us. In tents, I mouth, meaningfully.

His fingertips cluster around his temple as he groans. “Psychic damage. Critical hit.” He looks as if he’s aged ten years.

I twine my fingers with his, partly because I’m desperate to touch him again, partly because I’m worried he’ll run. Maybe that joke was the last straw. “I’ll heal you.”

He smiles, and his mustache tickles my knuckles where he presses a kiss to the back of my hand.

For a while, we’re quiet, and there’s peace. We’re far enough away from the roads that I hear engines only whenever other campers drive by our site on their way out. Otherwise it’s just the birds, the whistle of the wind through the leaves, and the distant lapping of the water below.

There’s an ache in my chest fingering its way between my ribs that feels a lot like dread.

I’m not ready for this weekend to be over.

At the thought of the flight I have to take in a few days, the memory of New York’s annual summer reek fills my nose, smothering the fresh scent of the dewy grass surrounding us.

I start to mourn that I have only a few sections of the mural left to paint, a few sessions of the campaign left to play, and my mind starts replaying the last conversation I had with Addison.

Have you given any thought to when you’d be available to start?

The memory of her voice is reedier, more demanding.

With the same steady patience as always, Noah pulls me back to earth. He tugs gently on my hand. “Look.” He points.

A butterfly flutters around the patches of grass surrounding our site, looking for flowers. It’s a common enough sight, but for now it’s enough to distract me. To ground me.

Noah squeezes my hand again. “Listen, Sadie.” His tone is quiet; it almost blends in with the sounds of nature surrounding us. “Whatever happens over these next few weeks, wherever we end up…”

His gaze drifts down to the water again, where a kayak skims the surface of the lake behind a group of ducks.

“Right now, ” he says, “I can’t imagine anywhere else I’d rather be.”

My muscles unwind, and the knot of tension between my brows unravels. I sigh.

“Me, too.”