He rolled us over, so I was on top of him, his hands guiding my hips as we moved together again. Slower this time. Deeper. Our eyes locked as I rode him, my breath catching with every stroke.
“I’ve missed you so much, baby,” he said.
I cupped his jaw, let my fingers brush over the scar that had changed his face but not the man underneath.
“I hated not knowing,” I whispered.
“I hated not being able to tell you.”
“You could’ve.”
“I didn’t know how,” he said, voice raw. “I was ashamed. Of where I was. Of what I’d done.”
“You took the fall for your brother.”
“I still went to prison, Scarlett. I still got beat so bad I couldn’t see straight for two weeks. I still came out a shell of the man you knew back then, the man you loved.”
I stilled over him, my palm pressed to his chest where his heart pounded like it wanted to break through skin. “You aren’t a shell. You’re just hurt.”
He closed his eyes like he didn’t want me to see the way that truth cut. I leaned down and kissed his chest. Then his throat. Then his mouth again.
“I see you,” I said, right against his lips.
When he opened his eyes, they were shiny with tears he wouldn’t let fall. We didn’t say a word after that. There was no need. Our bodies did the talking. Our rhythm slowed to a sweet and aching pace, like we were both trying to make it last forever. When we finally collapsed again, tangled together in a sweaty, breathless heap, his fingers laced with mine.
Outside, the wind had calmed. The storm was losing its edge. And inside this cabin, we were finally still.
He traced circles on the back of my hand. “I don’t want this to be a mistake.”
I turned to face him, propping my chin on my hand. “It’s not.”
“But in the morning, when reality comes back in…”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said, before I could talk myself out of it.
He closed his eyes and exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath for years. I watched him fall asleep like that, with me curled against his chest and his arm wrapped around my back like a shield. I couldn’t erase the years we’d spent apart, but I could start to forgive him for trying to protect me even though it had only caused more pain. He deserved that much and more after everything he’d been through.
I woke to the sound of knocking. A heavy fist pounded against the front door, then silence. I sat up and pulled the blanket over my chest. The storm outside had gone still, and dim light filtered through the bedroom curtains. It was morning.
The knock came again. I looked to my left, expecting to see Kingston still asleep, but the bed was empty. Still warm, but empty.
The door opened. Kingston exchanged muffled greetings with someone else. Slade Kincaid. I’d recognize that drawl anywhere.
I stood, the blanket still clutched to my chest, my heart suddenly hammering. Slade ran the Iron Spur Ranch with his brother and sister and had partnered with Cullen on the new barbecue restaurant in town. The one Ruby had coordinated with her investor friend. If Ruby hadn’t told the entire town already, word was spreading about Kingston.
I pulled his sweatshirt off the floor and slipped it on, then crept closer to the door, cracking it a sliver so I could listen in.
“I didn’t think you’d be up here,” Slade said. “Figured you’d be halfway to Denver by now, knowing how much you hate attention.”
“I wasn’t planning on staying,” Kingston replied. “Plans changed.”
“You and me both. The storm shut down the road out of town. I’ve been plowing nearby and when I heard you were up here, I figured I’d check in.”
There was a pause. Then a sound that could have been a coffee cup settling hard on a table.
“Are you okay, man? You look… wrecked,” Slade said.
“I didn’t sleep much.”
