My temper boiled in the pit of my belly, the fire that rarely became more than a smolder grew to a burst of flame that would incinerate a forest.
“Who the fuck are you to tell me what I need? Because if you knew what I needed you’d have been at the guesthouse two days ago, or even better, you’d have come inside when we got home after Harry had his arm put in a cast and found out how we all were. Because if you did, you’d know that I didn’t need you to come with us because I’m not thick or insensitive but I needed you afterwards. Not hiding here in your cave, as you so rightly put it.” I stepped close to him and prodded his chest. “This is us. We are both broken. We were both broken like everyone is, even before we lost people who should never have been lost. But we are still here. And I want you here, Gabriel. I want you. Not to be my fucking saviour, because I can save my fucking self. I want you in my life because you make it happier.”
He silenced me with his mouth on mine. I tasted mint and paint, I felt the clash of teeth and his hands on my skin, his hard muscles under my fingers and we started to fight for a future that was too uncertain to name.
He bit my neck and squeezed my breasts through the thin fabric of my vest, uttering words about how he needed to be in me, needed to fuck me, needed to feel my tight cunt squeeze his cock and fill me up with his cum. I bit back, pushing my centre against his legs, need surging through me like I was about to short circuit and life was about to cut out.
It was the Armageddon and we were the only two left. Our last ten minutes to breathe life into something that was dying.
Gabe pushed down my shorts and I heard a rip, a tear. I didn’t care. Rough fingers pushed inside me, pumping me almost to orgasm. He wasn’t careful as he pushed me up against the barn wall, he wasn’t full of finesse or skills. He was full of need. Possession. I wrapped my legs around his waist, his jeans now pooling on the ground, his big, thick cock free.
“Fucking love you.” His words came out as he pushed inside me, filling me and stretching, starting to fuck the life back into us. “Fucking so in love with you it hurts.”
I was crying. I could feel the tears as well as the oncoming orgasm, my cunt tightening, my body going rigid. I needed the release, needed his release in me.
Fingernails dug deep into his shoulders, holding on for support and to mark him as he was marking me. His thrusts were hard and deep, pinning me against the walls. Tomorrow I would have bruises. Tomorrow I wouldn’t care.
I came silently, the feeling too much to shout details to the universe. He followed moments later, and I felt his heat shoot deep into me.
He shuddered, still holding me, both of us breathless. His lips pressed onto my neck, kissing where he’d bitten before. “I love you. As much as I can at the moment, I love you.”
I held his shoulders and forced him back so I could look at him. “I love you, Gabriel. And we’re not done, but we both need to get our shit sorted.”
“I know.”
He lifted me off his cock and I felt wetness seep out of me.
“You love me?” He looked like a little boy who didn’t quite believe he’d been chosen to captain his football team.
I nodded and laughed. “I love you.”
“Even though?”
“Even though everything.”
* * *
We satin bed in the barn wrapped up in each other, in our own cocoon. We made love again, this time without the biting or rush. It was slow, achingly tender, painfully sweet. He told me words I’d keep hold of, use them to keep me warm on nights when the cold was biting or I felt as if only I was awake in the world.
And I told him them back.
“How’re Marcy’s letters?” His hands cupped my breasts and I knew that he’d be back inside me in another half an hour or so.
“I’m almost at the end. I found a letter yesterday from Donald too?” He’d been intrigued by the story as much as I had and I had a feeling that one of the paintings he’d been working on pictured them in some way.
“Read one to me.” He let go of me and lay on his back, exposing his sun-kissed chest and skin my hands knew better than my own.
“Hang on.” I slipped down to the ground where I’d left my bag and pulled out the journal. The makeshift light was on when I got back up to the mattress and he’d made the covers into a nest for us. I opened the wallet and found the next letter, neatly folded and stuck deep into the spine so it wouldn’t fallout. There were two letters folded together.
Dear Don,
I was surprised to get your letter and that you responded to mine. I understand that at the moment the situation is delicate and that there is a lot to sort. I’m also so incredibly upset over Julia’s death and I feel very confused right now.
You told me some things in your letter that were very honest. They were difficult to read and also gave me hope. I feel the same way you do in that the feelings I have are more than just what I should have for someone with whom I discussed the news.
I understand the position that we are in and the time that is needed to let wounds heal. If there is still the same feeling between us in six or twelve months then I would like to see where that goes.
I started to fall in love with you on the beach, I think. The barrier of you being married prevented me from falling completely and now because of circumstance, it is still there.
