I've made peace with a hundred things. But not this. Not him. Not the way I still get wet thinking about his mouth between my legs.
I remember, even when my mind tries to forget.
Cassia slows to a walk without me asking. She knows this place, knows what happens here. I pull her to a stop thirty yards away, suddenly unsure. The mare huffs, impatient with my hesitation.
Three years of smiling for someone else's camera.
Three years of pretending those hands didn't ruin me.
My nipples tighten against my dress. Just the memory of his touch is enough to make my body crash through every careful wall I've built. Every promise I made to forget him. To leave him behind.
And then I see him.
Legion leans in the open silo door like he never left, like time stopped the day they locked him away. He’s a shadow against warm golden light inside. The moonlight catches on his face, illuminating cheekbones that look sharper now, a jaw that's set harder. The last traces of boyhood gone from his features.Like life has carved away everything soft and only pure longing remains. I can see it in how he stands—like he's deciding whether to worship me, or destroy me, or both.
When his eyes find mine, wet heat pools between my legs. That gaze of his is hungry. Patient, but predatory. His eyes track my every movement, missing nothing.
Cassia shifts under me, sensing my tension. My fingers shake on the reins, betraying my careful composure. My heart hammers against my ribs like it's trying to escape, trying to reach him before the rest of me can.
I'm soaked through my panties and he hasn't even touched me yet. Hasn't said a word. Just stands there, watching me with those eyes that have always seen right through me.
He steps away from the golden light behind him, entering the dark shadows. Moonlight filters down through cottonwood leaves, making him sparkle a bit. When he's close enough that I can smell him—leather, and smoke, and something darker—he reaches out his hand.
Just his hand, palm up. Nothing more.
It’s an invitation. Not to love him, or be with him, just to fuck him.
That’s all these silo visits have ever been. Friendship and fucking. Because even as children—before the sex, obviously—we knew we didn’t belong in the real world. We existed only as something provisional and transitory.
He invited me here for sex. And I could lie. Say I didn't come here for that. But that’s all it is, just a lie.
Neither of us says a word as I place my hand in his and the moment our skin connects, electricity shoots straight to my core. A small sound escapes my throat—not quite a gasp, not quite a moan. Something in between that I'd be embarrassed by if anyone else heard it.
Legion helps me down slow, hands warm on my waist. The strength in them is familiar and foreign all at once—the same hands, but harder now. More certain.
My feet hit the ground and I break open.
I've been good for too long. Polite. Clean. Untouched. Marcus kisses me like I'm made of glass. Legion fucks me like I’m made of fire.
My legs are unsteady beneath me. I am crumbling with one touch.
His hands linger at my waist, thumbs brushing against the thin fabric of my dress.
"Savannah," he says, and my name in his mouth sounds like a prayer, and a curse, and a blessing all wrapped up into one.
Then his lips meet mine and it's not sweet—it's desperate.
It's the kiss you give someone after three years of silence.
After too many nights with the wrong name on your tongue.
This isn't romance. This is possession. This is me handing over everything I tried to bury. He tastes like salvation and sin, and I wannadrownin it.
I moan into his mouth, shameless and hungry. My hips press against his thigh and I can feel how hard he already is. His hands tangle in my hair, pulling just enough to make me gasp.
He breaks the kiss, both of us breathing hard. "Inside," he says, voice rough with want.
He leads me through the silo door, and I'm not prepared for what I see. Fairy lights strung across the metal walls cast a soft glow over the space.
