When I can’t stifle the groan lodged in my throat, she whimpers breathily and takes off like a shot again.
I smile, heart thudding for a whole new reason, starting the slow prowl of a hunt all over.
I’m losin’ and I don’t even give a fuck.
“Are you hidin’ from me, darlin’?” I taunt, voice thick with lust and excitement. “Or are you tryin’ to make yourself come?”
Georgia laughs, quiet and breathy, the kind of sound that lives under a man’s skin.
My eyes slide over the mess of sheets, most of them finally drying enough to whip in the soft breeze. It distracts me so I pause, waiting for the wind to die down.
Then I hear it—the whisper of her feet against the sun-warmed grass, the slight intake of breath she’s trying to choke back.
There.
Her shadow pulses behind a panel of white cotton, and I stop breathing.
Her body is outlined by the slowly sinking sun—breasts full, back arched, hand slipping between her thighs as she rocks gently against her own palm.
From behind, all fair skin and freckles, perfect ass bouncing with her movements, she was stunning and perfect, a memory etched in my fuckin’ brain.
But this…
This is somethin’ you never forget. Not for a second. This is something that lives and dies with a person.
A singular moment of pure, unforgettable bliss.
My girl outside, running wild and free in the country, on the land where I was raised. Land that means more to me than I think I ever realized.
She’s here, with me, not complaining about the smell or the dirt. Not telling me she has dreams of places far away, bigger and better. She’s happy here. She’s glowing under the South Dakota sun like it’s part of her DNA, too.
And for a few minutes, I just let the weight of it sink in.
Georgia may be terrified to give me more than one day at a time, but every day that she lays between us, she choosesthis. She chooses m—and Aurora, honey, and wildflowers.
She choosesme.
And God, I choose her right back.
“Come find me,” she calls, running from sheet to sheet, hair flying around her as she searches for me. “Come claim your prize, Archer.”
She’s perfect. Fresh air and this moment. A fucking fever dream I never wanna wake up from.
Love that she wants me to catch her.
Love that this is a game I already know I’ll lose just to seeherwin.
My grip tightens around my cock, precum slicking my palm as I imagine sinking into her, fucking her into the grass while the sheets whip around us like ghosts. Out here where anyone could see, anyone could catch us. It’s the adrenaline I’ve been desperate for—for years. The kind you could get high on and never come back down from.
I stalk through the sheets, over the game, needing her like I need to breathe, but when I round the line where she just was, there’s nothing.
Freezing, I close my eyes, and just listen.
Nothing.
No breath, no gentle but loud footsteps, no whimpers or moans. Just the wind and sheets and the thundering of my heartbeat.
“Georgia?” I call, voice low and warning. The smile slips from my face, and I release myself, fist clenching at my side.
