I kept the pace deliberate, grinding deep on each stroke, circling my hips to press against her clit until her thighs started quivering again. When she came the second time, it was quieter but no less intense—long, rolling waves that milked me rhythmically, her back arching just enough to arch her breasts toward me. Her broken cry cut through the roar of the falls for one heartbeat, raw and unguarded, and the sound shoved me right to the edge.
I thrust once, twice more—deep, slow, deliberate—then buried myself fully and let go. Heat exploded through me in long, shuddering pulses as I came inside her, spilling deep while her body kept rippling around me, drawing out every last tremor.
The open air cooled the sweat on my back instantly. But the heat where we were joined felt endless.
We stayed locked together for long minutes, breathing hard, hearts hammering against each other. Eventually, I eased out carefully, both of us hissing at the loss, then gathered her close for a minute—lazy kisses, soft touches—before we shifted.
We ended up sitting side by side on the gravel bank, our shirts and jeans spread out beneath us like a makeshift blanket. The cold had leached completely out of the evening, or maybe we’d just stopped feeling anything except each other and the steady thunder of the falls.
Riley leaned into my side, head on my shoulder, and we stared out at the water together. The pool below caught the first pale stars, and the whole world felt quiet except for the endless rush of the cascade.
I had one arm around her, and I wasn’t thinking about much. That was unusual for me. I was generally a man with a lot running in the background, some leftover habit from years of running a company where the background never fully went quiet.
Right now, there was nothing back there. Just the water and the mountain and this woman who’d driven up here alone with plans for a fresh start, and who was currently using my shoulder as a pillow like she’d been doing it for years.
“We have to go back eventually,” she said.
“Eventually.”
She didn’t move. Neither did I.
The falls kept running, the way they always had, the way they would long after we were gone, and I sat on a gravel bank in the mountains with Riley Callahan and felt exactly like a man who had made every right decision that led him here, whether he’d known it at the time or not.
5
RILEY
Iwas up before my alarm.
I’d been an early riser my whole life. Sunday mornings starting before dawn, everything pressed and ready before the congregation needed us to be.
But this was different. I’d gotten back to the inn last night in a daze, Harlan walking me to the door with his hand warm at the small of my back, and I’d stood in the shower for twenty minutes trying to figure out what I was feeling. By the time I’d worked through it, I’d talked myself into a corner.
He’d been so certain. So steady. And that was exactly what scared me.
The voices that came in with the grey morning light didn’t need to be loud. They’d had twenty-three years to learn exactly how much pressure to apply.
You just met him.
You don’t know him.
You got carried away.
That last one sat the heaviest. Not because it felt true, but because I’d heard its cousin so many times.
You always go too far, Riley. You never think.
For that reason, I couldn’t always tell the difference between my own instincts and my father’s voice wearing their clothes.
So I’d said goodnight. And I’d gone inside. And I hadn’t invited him in.
I got to the Pancake House early and threw myself into the opening side work, grateful for something to do with my hands.
He came in at half past seven.
I saw him before he sat down. He walked through the door with that same unhurried ease and took the stool at the counter, and something in his expression when he found me across the room was different from yesterday—more direct, like he’d come in with a purpose and wasn’t going to pretend otherwise.
I went over with the carafe. “Coffee?”
