The next moments blur together—hands and mouths and heat that builds like the storm outside. She works at my belt with fingers that shake just enough to remind me that she wants this as much as I do.
When I press her back onto the bed, she arches beneath me, all smooth skin and soft sighs. I kiss my way down her throat, tasting the rapid flutter of her pulse, the sweet and salty flavor that's uniquely hers.
"You want this?" I ask, voice thick with need, even though I can see the answer in her eyes, feel it in the way her body responds to my touch.
"Ineedit," she breathes, and the raw honesty in her voice nearly breaks me.
I don't tease. Don't make her wait.
I line myself up and slide inside her with a groan that comes from somewhere deep in my chest, sinking into tight, wet heat that makes my vision blur and my hands shake.
She arches beneath me, a long, low moan spilling from her lips as I fill her completely. Her legs wrap around my waist, heels digging into the small of my back, pulling me deeper.
"Boone—" My name on her lips sounds like a prayer.
I start to move, slow and deep, kissing her as she adjusts to the feel of me inside her. The storm outside builds with us, lightning illuminating her face in brief, stark moments—lips parted, eyes closed, lost in sensation.
"You're mine," I murmur against her ear, punctuating the words with a thrust that makes her cry out. "Say it."
"I'm yours," she gasps, nails digging into my shoulders hard enough to leave marks that’ll still be there tomorrow. "God, I'm yours."
I pick up the pace then, driving into her with purpose, chasing the building tension in her body. She meets every thrust, her hips rising to take me deeper, until she's falling apart beneathme—back arching, head thrown back, my name torn from her throat as she comes hard around me.
The sight and sound of her release pushes me over the edge. I bury myself to the hilt and let go, groaning her name into the curve of her neck as pleasure crashes through me like thunder.
We stay like that for a long moment, breathing hard, hearts racing, skin slick with sweat. She runs her fingers through my hair, the touch gentle now, soothing.
Outside, the storm reaches its peak—rain lashing the windows, thunder rolling across the lake like the mountain is giving us a round of applause.
"I think the mountain really did send you to me," I whisper against her skin, tasting salt and satisfaction.
She smiles, soft and satisfied and utterly beautiful. "I think you’re right. The mountain knew exactly what it was doing."
And as the storm rages around us, I finally understand what the old-timers meant when they talked about the mountain's gifts.
Sometimes they come disguised as disasters.
Sometimes they change everything.
I just hope I’m lucky enough to keep her.
Chapter 7
Stacia
Therainhasstopped.
I know it before I open my eyes, before I even fully surface from the warm haze of sleep. The air has that clean, quiet stillness that only comes after a summer storm.
Boone’s arm is slung across my waist. A rough hand rests low on my stomach, fingers splayed possessively across bare skin. I'm tucked into Boone's chest, skin to skin, our legs tangled beneath sheets that smell like cedar and soap and something that's purely him.
I don't move, relishing in this feeling. For the first time in years, I don't feel like I have to be anywhere else.
There's no flight to catch. No inbox to zero out. No fake smile to plaster on for another video conference with people who think adventure is something you buy instead of something you live.
Just me, Boone, and the sound of the breeze through the trees.
This is the vacation I needed.
