The rain drums steady against the barn roof. A counterpoint to the thunder of my pulse in my ears.
Ivy's lips are still on mine. Soft. Insistent. Her fingers twist in my shirt, damp cotton clinging to her knuckles. The hay bales creak under our weight as I shift closer, pulling her against me until there's no space left between us.
Her breath hitches. Warm against my cheek. I can taste the rain on her skin, the faint salt of her, something green and growing that's just Ivy. My hands find her waist, the curve of her ribs under thin fabric, the way her body arches into mine like she's been waiting for this as long as I have.
"Rogan—"
My name on her lips is a spark to dry tinder. I deepen the kiss, my tongue tracing the seam of her mouth until she opens for me. She tastes like earth and possibility, like the first bite of something sweet after a long hunger.
Her fingers slide up my chest. Push my jacket off my shoulders. It falls to the hay, forgotten. I do the same for hers, peeling damp canvas away to find her underneath with warmskin and a thin tank top that clings to her like it's jealous of my hands.
I break the kiss long enough to pull the tank over her head. She lifts her arms, lets me. The air in the barn is cool against her bare skin, raising goosebumps I follow with my fingertips, tracing patterns down her arms, her sides, the dip of her waist.
She shivers. Not from cold.
"Tell me to stop," I whisper against her collarbone. My lips find the pulse there, steady and strong under my mouth. "Tell me and I'll stop."
She doesn't tell me to stop.
Her hands are in my hair, pulling me closer, her thighs parting to let me settle between them. The hay scratches at my back through my shirt, but I barely feel it. All I can feel is her, the heat of her through too many layers of clothes, the way her hips tilt up to meet mine, the sound she makes when I kiss the hollow of her throat.
"More," she says. Voice rough. "Please."
I oblige.
My hands map her body like it's terrain I've been tasked with memorizing. The slope of her shoulders, her breasts in my palms, the way her stomach trembles when I trace the line of her ribs. She's strong and soft all at once, muscle and give, earth and water, and I want to learn every inch of her.
She fumbles with my belt. Gets it undone. My jeans follow, kicked aside with impatient movements that make me grin against her skin. Her own clothes join the pile until there's nothing left but us, skin to skin in the half-light of the barn, the rain a steady rhythm against the roof.
I roll us until she's under me, the hay prickling at my back forgotten. Her legs wrap around my waist, heels digging into my ass like she's afraid I'll disappear if she lets go. I kiss her again,slow and deep, my hands braced on either side of her head, her hair tangled in my fingers.
"Rogan," she says again. My name a prayer and a demand.
I move down her body, kissing a path from her collarbone to her sternum, the dip of her navel. She gasps when I reach the waistband of her underwear, the last barrier between me and all of her.
I look up. Meet her eyes.
She nods.
I yank them off. Toss them aside.
And then I'm there, at the heart of her, my mouth on her like I'm starving and she's the only thing that can save me. She cries out, her hands fisting in the hay, her back arching off the bales as I work her with my tongue, my lips, my teeth until she's trembling and breathless and begging for more.
I give her more.
My fingers join my mouth, sliding inside her as I lick and suck and worship her with everything I have. She's so wet, so hot, so perfectly Ivy that I could spend the rest of my life right here and die happy.
But she's pulling at me, urging me up, her legs wrapping around me again as she tries to drag me back to her mouth.
"Now," she pants. "Please, Rogan, now."
I don't make her ask twice.
I position myself at her entrance. Push in slow, watching her face the whole time, the way her eyes flutter shut, her lips part, her breath stutter in her chest as I fill her inch by inch until there's nothing left of me that isn't hers.
She's tight. Hot. Perfect.
I start to move.
