I place my hand against her cheek before guiding her face closer to mine. Our noses brush together, and I find my lips curving into a grin as I see the skin on her neck grow goosebumps. It gives me the courage to ask her, “Do you still love me?”
My bottom lip barely touches hers, and she shivers, closing her eyes. Her hands find my stomach, inching their way up my chest, and one remains there as the other slides into my hair. It’s such a natural thing, her hands on me, her lips this close, our breaths becoming one.
“I never stopped,” she repeats, eyes opening and locking onto mine, and that’s all I need to finally come undone.
I run my fingers through her hair and smash our mouths together. The rest of the world fades away. Her lips part, welcoming me inside, and I deepen our kiss with all the power I can muster to make up for all of the seconds, minutes, days,weeks, years that our lips have spent not touching. This feels right. Like my soul is saying I’m home.
I run my hands down her arms, down her stomach, until they find her hips. At the same time that I lift her up, Raine hops and wraps her legs around my hips. Her lips find my neck, and she plants tiny kisses upon my skin, starting a fire within me that no one else could ever ignite.
I place her on top of the table and lean my body over hers. Our bodies unable to get close enough. I taste her, and I realize I’ve been starving for the last ten years. I’ve felt love with others, but it was never like this. I only have this with her. I’ve kissed others before, but it didn’t set every nerve ablaze like it always has with Raine. This kiss contains years of all the things we’ve wanted to say to each other and all of the feelings we’ve kept buried for only each other.
I’m the first to pull away, as much as it pains me, but I know if I don’t stop now, I never will. Raine places a hand on my chest, pushing slightly, silently agreeing with me that we both could use a moment to collect ourselves. Her eyes flutter open, and she clears her throat. Her eyes look at my lips, disappointment washing over her face before she seems to come back to reality and moves away from me.
“So…” she says, smoothing out her dress and walking over to the porch swing to put some distance between us.
My eyes follow her every movement. The way her hair is slightly messy from where my fingers were just tangled, the red blotchy skin on her chest and neck caused by the heat between us, the way her lips are swollen from our kiss. I need to get a grip on myself, but all I want to do is march over there, pin her against that swing, and kiss her all over again.
I exhale, clamping a palm to the back of my neck, squeezing away the tension. “I kind of lost control there for a second. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She smirks, her fingerstouching her lips, a dazed look washing over her face. “Waiting a decade will do that.”
“So, what now?” I ask.
She winces as reality hits her. “Well, we still need to talk about…everything. I’ve avoided it long enough.”
I’ve been avoiding the conversation just as much as she has, if not more, because there is something I haven’t told her about that night, and I’m terrified that it might ruin what just happened between us. Wanting to hang on to this feeling for just a little bit longer, I suggest, “Would you like to come over later? I could cook us dinner, and we could talk after?”
She purses her lips together, considering my proposal, and gives me a soft smile as she replies, “Yeah, that would be nice.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Now
Raine
Ipull my car into the driveway that leads to Ryland’s cabin. I caught a glimpse of it when Olivia and I attended Ryland’s cookout. However, being this close gives me a sense of familiarity as I take in its worn wooden exterior. It looks like a typical two-story cabin in the woods, but the updates Ryland has made over the years have brought it back to life.
The roof has been redone, now the same color as the updated dark-green front door. A wooden balcony on the top floor has been added to match the refurbished front porch that wraps around to the back. I’ve always loved the large windows that allow the people inside to enjoy the gorgeous landscape of evergreens and the blue water of the lake.
Covewood brings a variety to its people and travelers. Where there are rolling green hills full of farmlands, there are also flourishing wooded areas next to the large lake. People come from all over to escape while visiting Covewood. My life before was spent despising this place and wanting to run away from it, only to find my soul secretly yearning to return to my roots.
“Hey,” Ryland says softly, the crinkles by his eyes showingas he makes his way down the porch steps. He’s wearing a gray long-sleeve shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pair of blue jeans. My gaze trails up his veiny forearms to the swell of his muscular shoulders and up to his multicolored irises.
He waltzes toward me, placing his hands onto my waist, and leans in to press his lips against my own. I grin, closing my eyes, and wait. However, a tiny squeal interrupts us.
“Raine!” Annabelle rushes past her dad and wraps me into a hug before pulling me toward the cabin. “I helped Daddy cook dinner! Come see what we made.”
I giggle and allow her to lead the way, catching a glimpse of Ryland as he shakes his head. Annabelle leads me through the living room and into the kitchen. Once we’re at the stove, she prompts me to pick her up.
“We made chicken poop.” She beams and points toward the skillet.
“You made what?” I ask, my eyes growing wide.
Ryland barks out a laugh as he shuts the front door behind him. “That’s what Pops named the meal years ago.”
My eyebrows raise when I look down to study what exactly is for dinner. Whatever it is, it smells amazing and thankfully looks nothing like chicken poop. I can make out small pieces of cooked chicken and sliced browned potatoes with shredded cheese melted on top.
“I cooked this for Pops, and he loved it. One day, I asked him what he’d like for dinner, and he told me to whip up some of that chickenpoophe loved.” He chuckles at the memory. “However, Pops said a bad word instead. So, we started calling it chickenpoop. Annabelle has a fun time telling people we eat chicken poop for dinner, if you couldn’t tell.”
