“Give me a second,” I plead, praying I don’t shoot my load.
I start to move slowly, watching her face, learning what makes her eyes flutter closed, what pulls the sounds I fucking adore from her throat. She wraps her legs around my waist and meets every thrust, and the rhythm we find isn’t frantic—it’s fucking perfection.
Her hand finds mine. I lace our fingers together, pinning them beside her head, and the vulnerability in her eyes matches what’s clawing at my chest.
“Stay with me,” I say, the words raw.
“I’m here.” She tightens around me. “I’m right here.”
When she comes, it’s with my name on her lips and her eyes locked on mine. I follow her over, soaking in this moment—her body, her breath, and the way she holds me like I’m her lifeline.
Afterwards, I don’t pull away. I stay, my weight braced on my forearms, her pulse fluttering against my lips where I’ve pressed them to her throat.
“Are you okay?”
She nods, fingers stroking through my hair. “I’m better than okay.”
I shift to the side, pulling her with me so she’s draped across my chest. The blanket tangles around our legs, but neither of us care.
She props herself up on one elbow. "The noise in your head is quieter when I'm here, isn't it?"
I look at her, surprised she's noticed.
"I pay attention," she says softly. "You sleep better. You don't startle at sounds. Your shoulders aren't always hunched."
My throat swells. "You're the reason why."
I pull her down into a kiss that is intense—even for me.
When we break apart, she settles back against my chest, her ear over my heart.
"The road will be clear soon,” she whispers, like she doesn’t want me to hear her.
But I do.
I've been tracking the weather since before dawn, watching the sky lighten, and the snow taper off. Another day, maybe two, and the pass will be manageable.
"I know."
She's quiet for a long moment, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my ribs. "I should probably head back and check in with Beth. Let her know I'm alive."
She doesn't move, and neither do I.
"Red?"
"Yeah."
"Can we not talk about leaving yet?" Her voice goes small. "Can we just—have today?"
Something in my chest eases at once. "Yeah. We can have today."
She tilts her head up, and I kiss her like we have all the time in the world even though we both know we don't.
"Make me breakfast," she murmurs against my mouth. "And coffee. Lots of coffee."
"You’re demanding."
"You like it."
