He holds me through it, murmuring encouragement against my skin, his movements slowing but not stopping, prolonging the sensation until I'm trembling in his arms. When the last aftershock subsides, he lays me back on the bed, following me down, still hard inside me.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, brushing sweat-dampened hair from my face. "Perfect."
He begins moving again, his pace more urgent now, chasing his own release. I'm sensitive from my orgasm, every thrust sending aftershocks of pleasure through my overstimulated body. I wrap my legs around him again, urging him deeper, wanting to feel him lose control.
His rhythm falters, becoming less measured, more primal. I can feel the tension building in him, see it in the flush spreading across his chest, the strain in his features.
His hands grip my hips tightly, holding me in place as he drives into me with increasing intensity.
"Sage," he groans, the sound of my name on his lips sending a fresh wave of heat through me. "I'm going to—"
"Yes," I urge, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor. "Let go."
His control finally breaks. He thrusts once, twice more, then stiffens above me, face buried in my neck as he finds his release. I feel him pulse inside me, his body shuddering against mine, his breath hot and ragged against my skin
His heart pounds against mine, our bodies still joined, connected in the most fundamental way. I run my hands along his back, feeling the slight tremor in his muscles, the heat of his skin.
Finally, he shifts, lifting himself slowly off me. I expect him to maintain some distance, but instead he pulls me against him, arranging my body so my back is to his chest, his arm draped over my waist.
"Cold?" he asks, pulling the blankets up over us.
"No," I answer truthfully. Despite the chill in the room, I'm warm everywhere his skin touches mine.
His hand strokes lazily up and down my side, from hip to ribs and back again. Not with intent, just appreciation. I melt into the touch, into the solid warmth of him behind me.
"Regrets?" he asks quietly, mouth close to my ear.
I shake my head, turning slightly to see his face. "None. You?"
He considers for a moment, then shakes his head. "No. Though I probably should."
I smile, tracing the line of his jaw with my finger. "Too late now."
He captures my hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss my palm. "Much too late."
Epilogue – Silas
The winter light through the sugar shack windows turns everything golden. Steam rises from the evaporator, curling toward the ceiling in lazy spirals.
I check the temperature gauge, making a small adjustment to the damper beneath. The sap bubbles at exactly 219 degrees, right where it should be. Outside, the collection lines stretch between trees, blue veins against white snow and gray bark. A perfect day for tapping. Cold nights, warm days—the rhythm of the season as reliable as ever.
The door opens, letting in a blast of cold air and Sage, her cheeks pink from the cold. She kicks snow from her boots and unwinds the scarf from around her neck.
"Bottling day?" she asks, though she already knows the answer. The rows of clean glass bottles stand ready on the prep table, waiting.
"Just about. Another twenty minutes." I move the hydrometer through the liquid, checking density. Perfect. "How's the test batch?"
"Exceptional." She crosses to me, her movements sure and practiced in this space that was once exclusively mine. "The hickory smoke notes are subtle but distinct. You were right about the aging process."
"Told you." I can't help the small, satisfied smile. "Six months in the charred barrels makes all the difference."
"Yes, yes, you're very wise and all-knowing." She rolls her eyes, but there's warmth behind the mock exasperation. "I've alreadyset up for the tasting session. Three premium restaurants confirmed for next week."
She moves to the filtering station, checking the setup with a professional eye. Her hands adjust one of the filters, tightening a connection I hadn't noticed was loose.
"The Terroir people called again," she says casually, though we both know it's anything but casual. "They're still interested in the exclusive distribution rights."
"And what did you tell them?"
