That made him laugh before he kissed me again. Deep. Unhurried. He shed the last of his clothes, our skin seeking and finding. Every touch was a question, every kiss the answer to everything.
Any time he wasn’t kissing me, he was looking at me. I was over him now, taking him between my legs. He held on to me, helping me fit him inside and roll my hips against him.
“Zara,” he whispered, for no other reason than to say my name.
“I’m here,” I breathed. “You feel so good.”
I traced his face with my fingertips and leaned in to kiss him everywhere I could reach. His fingers slid over my hip—over the words we shared.
“I love this.” His forehead crinkled.
I touched his collarbone. “I love this more.”
He pulled me down and buried his face in my neck, and I held him there, stroking his hair as I moved over him, the snakes inmy chest slithering to the point I could barely breathe. I gasped as he plunged to the end of me and exhaled when he retreated.
My fingers dug into his skin, and I stared at him like I could find the answer to this…this unknown question he’d stirred within me. The question that didn’t make sense but plucked at my mind. Words that wouldn’t form. A thought I couldn’t quite gather.
Cormac looked back, guileless and so stunningly beautiful, it was all I could do not to yell it out.
He’d riled me up, and there was no settling. No matter how deeply I took him or how much I quickened my pace. I plastered myself against him, breathing in the scent of his skin. He held me close, bringing me with him when he fell. Releasing deep inside me with a shuddering groan as my inner walls closed around him, we were one sweaty, smiling, sated heap, holding on to one another for dear life.
“I like you so much,” I whispered into his neck.
“Yeah.” He brushed my hair off my face, kissing my temple. “You too, sweetheart. Like you so much too.”
Chapter Thirty-three
Cormac
Acoupledayslater,we both ended our days early so we could go for a ride. It was the first time we’d done this, just the two of us. When we were younger, Zara was always clamoring to get out on the horse she’d claimed as hers. This summer, she’d spent a lot of time on horseback, and just as I’d suspected, she couldn’t get enough.
We took a meandering ride down to the river, neither of us in a hurry to get there, enjoying the late afternoon sun and each other’s company.
Zara rode a little ahead at first, like always, then slowed her mare until our stirrups nearly brushed.
“I forgot how this feels,” she said quietly.
“The saddle?” I asked. “I thought you kept riding back in Oregon.”
She shook her head. “No, I meanthis. All of it. The space. The quiet. Not having to be…anything.”
“There’s nothing you have to be with me.”
“I know, Maccie. That’s how it’s always been.”
The river came into view over the horizon, the water flashing silver as it flowed. A breeze rolled off it, carrying that clean, mineral smell. Zara closed her eyes and tipped her face, soaking it in.
“For a while, it wasn’t.” I turned to look at her. “But we’re back to the old days, huh?”
The corners of her eyes pinched. “I don’t think we can ever get those days back. We’re different. Things are different between us. We were only friends. Now, we’re…more.”
My heart kicked at the acknowledgment. It was such a small, obvious thing, but it meant so much to me. I wasn’t in this all alone, buried under my feelings.
“Better, you think?”
She lifted a shoulder. “It can’t be better than you and me racing to the river without a single care in the world. But it can be just as good, I hope.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Maybe it can be.”
