My head lolls back, whole body arching as I fracture, gripping him like a vice. He drives in again, hay shifting around us as he releases, wresting every last bit of satisfaction from me before he collapses.
“God,” he grunts, into my hair, pressing kisses against my neck. “How will I survive you?”
His voice is raw, panicked. That’s when I know he’s already looking for a way out.
This is the part I knew would come. Not the wanting. The aftermath.
The part where something real tries to take shape.
I lie back, trying to savor this moment. Not think ahead.
It’s impossible. Like tasting gourmet cuisine and then going back to frozen pizzas.
His expression changes when the distance opens between us. I feel it… the silence. The sliver of space he puts between our bodies.
I hate it more than I can say.
“Levi—”
“We shouldn’t have done this,” he says, and the words feel like tearing skin.
Thunder rolls farther off now, the worst of the storm already moving on.
I study him for a long second. “You don’t mean that.”
He looks away. “ You should get back to your cabin before the path floods.”
“But we’re not done yet.” My voice comes out a tremble, body still limp and jointless from too much ecstasy.
“Done before this started,” he grits out between clenched teeth. “Told you so. Warned you.”
Silence lingers too long, but still I snuggle into him. And still he grabs me with one arm, pulling me tightly against him.
“Levi.”
Something shifts in his face when I say his name. Like it could wreck him. But he won’t look at me.
“When this weather breaks, you go back to the house or your cabin,” he says. “And tomorrow, things go back to normal.”
Even as he says it, I know there’s no normal after this. No putting him back on the other side of the line.
“Right,” I say quietly, sitting up. Patting in the hay for my jeans.
“By the tack trunk,” he reminds, voice low and groggy.
Then… “Don’t go yet.”
The last three words put a sharp sting behind my sternum. “Why not?” I say too forcefully. “You can’t stop talking about it now that you’ve had me.”
His eyes pop open, pain behind them. “It’s not like that.”
“Isn’t it, though?” I ask exasperated, struggling to my feet in the hay on a search for my clothes. “Never should’ve wanted this. Never should’ve thought this could be anything else but a complication.”
Levi doesn’t move, face a sour scowl.
I hurry into my clothes, vulnerable before him. His face is unreadable.
No after-care. No sharing or getting to know each. “Just a good fuck.” My voice sounds bitter now.
