I needed to be inside her. Needed it like air.
"Maggie—" My voice came out wrecked. "Come here."
She didn't stop. Took me deeper, hummed around me, and my vision whited out at the edges.
"Maggie." I reached down and slid my hands under her arms, dragging her up my body. She came, but slowly, letting her mouth drag the whole way—across my stomach, my chest, my throat—until her face was above mine and her wet hair curtained around us.
"I need to be inside you," I said against her mouth. "Now."
She reached between us. Positioned me. Sank down in one slow, devastating slide that pulled a groan out of both of us. Her forehead dropped to mine, and for a second we just breathed together—full, connected, trembling.
Then she rolled her hips, and we stopped being gentle.
This wasn't like before. Not slow. Not careful. This was the water fight energy turned molten—raw and urgent andalive. She rode me hard, and I met her thrust for thrust, my hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises. Her nails raked down my chest. I sat up and pulled her flush against me, and the new angle made her cry out, her head falling back, her throat exposed and perfect.
I kissed it. Bit it. Felt her clench around me and groaned against her skin.
"Harder," she gasped, and I flipped us. Drove into her deep, and she wrapped her legs around me and pulled me closer, her heels digging into the small of my back. The bed frame knockedagainst the wall. She was loud—gloriously, unapologetically loud—and every sound she made wound me tighter.
"Jack—God—right there?—"
She started to tighten around me, and I held on by sheer force of will, driving the angle she needed, watching her face as she shattered. She came hard, clenching around me like a fist, and the feel of her—thesoundof her—dragged me over the edge right after.
I buried myself deep and let go. It tore through me like wildfire, my whole body shuddering, her name the only word left in my mouth.
We lay tangled in the wreckage of the sheets, breathing hard, skin damp from water and sweat. Maggie was laughing—quiet, disbelieving laughter that vibrated against my chest.
"That was?—"
"Yeah."
"We should have water fights more often."
I laughed into her hair and pulled her against me. She came easily, fitting herself into the curve of my body like she'd always belonged there.
She fell asleep fast—faster than I'd ever seen her go under. One arm thrown across my chest, her face pressed into my shoulder, her body heavy with the kind of exhaustion that comes from being completely, thoroughly spent. No tension in her jaw. No furrow between her brows. Just Maggie, soft and still andpeaceful.
Sully had moved from the door to the foot of the bed, curled in a warm circle. The cabin was quiet. The ranch was quiet.
Brad would have loved today.
The water fight, the laughter, the easy chaos of a family that didn't ask permission before pulling you in. He'd have been in the middle of i—instigating half of it, probably. He'd have had Sully soaked by the second bucket.
The thought didn't cut. It just settled. Grief and gratitude, braided together.
I'm building something, brother. Something worth keeping.
Maggie shifted in her sleep, burrowing closer. I pressed my mouth against her hair and breathed her in.
I thought about the maps in my glovebox. Two hundred acres northeast. Creek access. Room to build something real. I thought about the inheritance I'd carried like dead weight, waiting for it to mean something.
And I thought about the woman curled against me who'd cracked herself open because I'd asked her to come into the light. She'd come. She was here, warm and trusting and choosing me even in her sleep.
The least I could do was build something worthy of that choice.
Sully's tail thumped softly against the quilt.
"Yeah, Sul," I murmured. "We're staying."
