Eventually, the heat, friction, and fire caught up with him, finally shattering his control. She felt the change in him as his pace quickened, his breathing grew ragged, and he pumped harder, faster, toward his own completion. She dug her fingers into the rippling muscles of his damp back, arched high and hard into his thrusts, and felt him stiffen as his climax peaked.
He dragged his lips from hers, surged into her a final time, and on a ragged, primitive growl, he spilled himself into her, pouring everything he had into her.
Breathing hard, he buried his face against her throat, his heart pounding against her ribs. She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him close, giving him the time he needed to recover.
A few minutes passed before he finally lifted his head from the curve of her neck.
In the dim light, his features were shadowed, but he looked utterly shattered, utterly hers.
Than woke to the rhythmic sound of the ocean and the warmth of a soft body pressed against his back. For a moment, he just lay there, suspended in that hazy, heavy state between sleep and waking, letting the reality of where he was, and who he was with, sink in.
He stared up at the ceiling, listening to the surf roll in, feeling a profound sense of peace settle over him that he hadn't felt in years. Maybe ever.
Mei was curled against him, her arm draped over his waist, her cheek resting between his shoulder blades. Her breathing was slow and even, a soft puff of air against his skin that anchored him in place. For a long moment, he didn’t move. He just lay there, suspended between sleep and waking, enjoying the reality of her.
She was here. She had chosen him. He hadn’t dreamed any of it.
The weight in his chest wasn’t heavy the way it usually was. It was full. Settled. The kind of quiet that came after something true had been spoken aloud and answered without hesitation.
He shifted carefully, just enough to turn and face her.
Mei stirred, lashes fluttering as she surfaced, eyes dark with sleep and softened by the light. When she focused on him, her mouth curved into a small, unmistakably content smile.
“Hi,” she murmured.
“Morning,” he said, his voice rough but steady.
She stretched slightly, her hand sliding up to his chest as if it belonged there. The touch wasn’t demanding. It was familiar already, easy and unguarded, and it did something dangerous to his composure.
She studied him for a moment, then smiled again. “You look…peaceful.”
He considered that. “I feel it.”
Her smile deepened. She leaned in, pressing a quiet kiss to his shoulder, then settled back against him with a sigh that sounded like relief.
They didn’t rush to fill the silence. There was no need. The ocean spoke for them, the light did its slow work, and the moment held.
For the first time in a long while, Than didn’t feel like he was bracing for impact.
He felt like he had found solid ground.
After being with Mei again, bare and exposed to the dawn and the ocean, they showered, kissing and touching like they couldn’t get enough of each other.
He dressed slowly, reluctantly, as if each piece of clothing was a step farther from something he wasn’t ready to leave. Mei moved around the room behind him, dressing as well, the sight of her like that cutting deeper than anything else had.
His attention turned to the nightstand. There, resting innocently on the wood, were the cuff links she had given him.
He studied them in the silence, the silver buffalo, heavy and detailed. He swallowed hard, remembering the way she had carefully removed them, treating them like treasures. He reached out, fingers trailing over the cool metal, picking one up.
He had wondered, when he first opened the box, if it was just because of who he was. Because he was Lakota. It was the easy assumption, the one people always made. Give the Native guy the buffalo. It was a generic symbol, a cliché almost. But looking at them now, remembering the way she looked at him last night, he knew it wasn't that.
Mei watched him from the doorway. “You’re thinking hard over there,” she said softly. “Second thoughts?” she asked.
Than smiled and her expression softened. “Never.” Dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, she looked beautiful, rumpled and soft in the morning light.
"But I am thinking hard," he admitted, holding up the cuff link between them. "I was looking at these."
She blinked, focusing on the silver in his fingers. "They look good on you."
