Page 128 of The Butcher's Wife

“Come on,reginetta. I was just getting started, just one more lick.”

I shift back down to his hips, ignoring his pleading, and press him to my entrance. He stops talking, and his body goes tense underneath me. Thunder crackles in the distance.

Slowly, I feed his length inside me until I’m gasping and seated. As good as he looks right now with his bicepsstraining next to his face and his broad hands flexing overhead, I’d rather he be touching me.

“Grab my hips, please.”

His palms snap to my hips right as I find a rhythm. We work in sync—me grinding my clit against his pelvis and rubbing him against an especially delicious spot inside me as he forces my hips down to give me even more friction. It doesn’t take long for me to throw my head back, my spine arching as I moan into the open air. A few raindrops kiss my face, and a slow, sweeping heat builds and crashes into me as I gasp for air and cling to Dom’s wrists.

Dom finishes right as I’m coming down, the pulsing of his release prolonging my orgasm by a few extra seconds. The moment we both come down, we scramble to jerk our clothes back on and shield the camera in Dom’s backpack from the building rain.

Right as we stumble back onto the trail, a sleet of rain comes crashing down. The storm drums against the canopy as we race back to camp, laughing at the rain soaking through our clothes and chilling us. By the time we get to the tent, I’m wet and shivering but grinning ear-to-ear. We strip down, crawl onto the mattress, and press our naked bodies together for warmth while the rain creates a symphony above our heads.

The next morning,we wake up to birds chittering beyond the tent. We make love again and dress to go on one last hike before we have to pack our supplies and head back home. This has been the honeymoon of my dreams, but I miss my new work with Marisol, my family, our penthouse, and our puppies.

“I found this spot a few years back.” Dom takes a swig from the water bottle and passes it to me. “It’s right around the bend.”

The rain gave way to a hot, muggy day, and between that and the hike, I’ve never been more looking forward to modern-day plumbing back at the penthouse.

He buries the bottle in his backpack and points ahead on the trail. “Right there.”

We stumble upon a wildflower meadow. Pink, yellow, and lavender flowers brush through the landscape, their rich colors amplified by the rain. A cooling breeze whispers past us to rustle through the long grass, and the blossoms sway in a gentle dance.

Dom steps behind me, circling his arm around my waist as tears sting my eyes.

I half-turn to him. “Dom, it’s so beautiful.”

Since Dom and I came back from Florida, I’ve visited Serafina’s grave with Mom and Carlo, but it was as empty as I expected. She wasn’t there—but here, in this place full of life and color and gentle things? Places like these are where I find my sister.

“I thought you might like it.” He squeezes me tighter and rests his head on top of mine.

“I love it,” I whisper through a choked voice. “I loveyou.”

He kisses the crown of my head. “And I love you.”

We soak in the scenery and the warmth of each other’s closeness before I say a quiet goodbye, we turn back on the trail, and we go home.