“Just saw that, did you?” she asked, rising on her toes to kiss him on the mouth.
“Picnic?”
She shook her head. “Not unless you brought food. I ate before I rode out here.”
He bent his head, nuzzled her neck, and whispered against her skin. “I am very glad to hear it.” He thrust his hips forward and she resumed releasing the buttons on his fly. He attended to the matter of her shirt.
At some point there was mutual, if silent, agreement that they would be better served by managing their own clothes. They shucked articles until they were satisfied with the state of their undress and then Remington scooped Phoebe into his arms and bore her down to the blanket.
Hunger could not quite mask discomfort and there were awkward moments between kisses as Phoebe tried to remove a sharp stone from under her shoulder and Remington jammed his knee into another. They winced, but their urgency also made them laugh, and it was just as Phoebe hoped it would be with the laughter residing in their hearts.
Her body had been preparing for him from the moment she saw him flying toward her. Given the state of his readiness, she believed it had been the same for him. She welcomed him into the cradle of her thighs and wrapped her legs around him. He thrust deep, pushing hard, and it was not a wince that changed her features this time, it was a whimper.
“God, Phoebe.” He strained to reach her mouth, nudged her lips open, and used his tongue to match the carnal rhythm of their bodies. She held him close, and there, in that place between her thighs where he fit so snugly, she held him closer still.
Her smile was vaguely wicked and a bit secretive when he raised his head. She did not look away. Her palm ran up his arm, across his shoulder, and rested against the curve of his neck. He rocked her back. She gasped, sucked a deep breath, and then her body was trembling and he felt every one of her intimate contractions. She tripped the single nerve that was holding him taut and together. Remington arched, tensed, and finally embraced release.
Chapter Thirty-five
They lay side by side as their hearts returned to normal rhythms and their breathing eased into silence. Phoebe found his hand and laid hers lightly on top of it. She stroked the backs of his fingers and then threaded hers between them. The sun was behind them and it was possible to stare at the endless blue sky without being blinded. The clouds were high and thin and trailed one another like wisps of smoke until they simply dissolved into the ether.
“It’s been very hard for me to say the words,” Phoebe said. “I don’t exactly know why except that I’ve had so little cause to use them that I suppose I needed to be sure I wouldn’t choke on them.” She turned her head sideways and regarded him in profile. It was probably better for what she wanted to say that he was not looking at her, but it had not occurred to her that he might have fallen asleep. His eyes were closed. That was disappointing.
“Remington?”
“Hmm?”
“Oh, you’re awake.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Then you heard me.”
“I heard a lot of words. You didn’t choke on any of them.”
“That’s because... well, never mind. I should just say them.”
“Probably best to get it done. One of us has to go first.”
That made her smile. She spoke quietly, solemnly, giving the moment the importance it deserved. “I do love you, you know.”
He opened his eyes and turned his head. “I had a suspicion, but mostly I had hope.” His fingers tightened against hers. “I love you, Phoebe Apple. Early on, I fought it some. The idea of it, you understand. Wrestled with it, I’d guess you’d say.”
She rolled on her side toward him, lifted her head, and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “I wouldn’t say that. No one would say that. You surrendered, same as me, but sometimes you have to wave the white flag to know for sure.”
Chuckling, Remington lifted their clasped hands a few inches off the ground and gave them a little shake. “Waving the white flag now,” he said. “Now and forever.”
Phoebe’s smile deepened. “That was nice.”
“Mm.” He lowered their hands. “I have my moments.”
“You do. I like it when I’m in them.”
“It’s hard for me to think of a time these last few months when you weren’t. I mean it, Phoebe. It was hard being away.”
She nodded. “For me, too. Before you left, I wanted to tell you that I had been thinking about my wedding dress, but it was not—”
He released her hand, sat up, and leaned over her, trapping her with a stiff arm on either side of her shoulders. “Tell me when you’re going to be wearing it and surprise me with the rest. I promise I’ll be there.”
