I cross the clearing, climb the porch steps, and knock.
The door opens, and there he is. Mayson. Bigger than I remember, more solid, more real. His beard is trimmed, his hair cut shorter, and when he sees me, his entire face transforms.
"Ruby."
"Hi."
We stare at each other for a long moment, and I'm suddenly uncertain. Maybe I should have radioed ahead. Maybe showing up unannounced is presumptuous. Maybe—
He pulls me inside and kisses me so hard I forget every doubt I've ever had.
When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, he cups my face in his hands.
"You came back."
"I promised."
"I know, but I thought, maybe…"
"What? That I'd forget about you? That I’d change my mind?" I grip his shirt, holding him close. "Mayson, I haven't stoppedthinking about you since I left. Every day, every hour, all I wanted was to come back here."
"What about the convoy?"
"The convoy is settled. They don't need me hovering. They need me to visit occasionally, check in, help with complex logistics. But I don't need to live there." I press my forehead against his. "I want to live here. If you'll have me."
"Ruby." His voice cracks. "I love you."
"I love you too," I whisper, tears spilling down my cheeks.
He kisses me like he's drowning and I'm air. Then he's picking me up, carrying me to the bedroom, laying me down like I'm something sacred.
His hands shake as he undresses me. Shirt first, then my bra. He pauses, staring at my breasts like he's never seen anything more perfect. His mouth descends, hot and wet, sucking my nipple until I'm arching off the bed.
He works my jeans off, my underwear, and then I'm bare beneath him. He's still fully clothed and the contrast makes me feel exposed, vulnerable in the best way.
"Mayson—"
He spreads my thighs, settles between them, and just looks at me. At all of me. Then his mouth is on my inner thigh, kissing, biting gently, working his way up.
When his tongue drags through my folds, I nearly come off the bed. He groans against me like I'm the best thing he's ever tasted, then his mouth is on my clit, sucking, licking, devouring.
"Oh god—"
His hands grip my thighs, holding me open, holding me still while he works me with his tongue. He's relentless, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on my clit. When he pushes two fingers inside me, curling them just right, I'm done.
The orgasm crashes through me and he doesn't stop, working me through it until I'm pulling at his hair, oversensitive and shaking.
He kisses his way up my body, my stomach, my ribs, my breasts, before finally shedding his clothes. When he settles between my legs again, I can feel how hard he is.
"Need you," I gasp.
He pushes inside and I gasp at the stretch. He's thick, filling me completely, and after two weeks without him my body has to adjust all over again. He sinks deeper, deeper, until he's buried to the hilt and I can't tell where I end and he begins.
"Fuck," he breathes, staying still. "You feel amazing."
I rock my hips and he groans, fingers digging into my ass. Then he's moving - slow, deep strokes that drag against every nerve ending. I can feel every ridge, every inch of his cock as he pulls almost all the way out before sliding back in.
His mouth is on my neck, teeth scraping, and I'm already climbing again. One hand slides under my ass, tilting me up, and the new angle makes him hit that spot that turns my vision white.
