I gave a suggestive shrug. “Maybe you could travel now and then… to write an article or two… but always have someone to come home to.”
He looked into my eyes, and the gaze lingered.
Softly, in the firelight, he smiled. “Maybe that could work.”
The silence stretched between us, filled only by the crackle of the fire and the rushing of the falls in the distance.
Cody’s eyes searched mine, steady, unflinching, and I felt something inside me loosen… the same knot I’d let unravel in the old mill the day before.
He leaned in, slowly, giving me every chance to turn away. I didn’t.
Our lips met softly at first, tentative, almost questioning. His mouth was warm, tasting faintly of spice from the chicken pie and smoke from the fire.
When I parted my lips for him, the kiss deepened, hunger blooming between us with startling intensity. His hand cupped the side of my face, thumb brushing along my cheekbone, andfor once I didn’t think about who or what might be watching, or whether the night was too damp or the tent was too flimsy to protect me.
I hadhimto protect me.
All I thought about was him. Only him.
When we finally pulled apart, I was breathless.
As his forehead pressed to mine, he whispered, “Come on.”
He stood, unbuttoned his shirt down to his navel, then reached for my hand.
I let him pull me to my feet.
We slipped inside the tent, the firelight outside casting a flicker across the nylon walls.
There was no sliding inside the sleeping bags. Instead, Cody eased himself down first, stretching out flat on top of the crinkled nylon. He grunted softly at the hardness of the ground beneath, but settled anyway, tugging me down with him until I was stretched along his chest.
“You’ll be more comfortable this way,” he murmured. “Let me be your lumbar support.”
I wanted to argue, to tell him he didn’t need to play the martyr, but I laid my head against his chest for a moment and the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my ear silenced me. I rested there, listening, letting the warmth of his body radiate into mine until the growing chill of the forest night was an afterthought.
He tilted my chin, coaxing me up to meet his lips again, and every nerve in my body sparked to life.
My hands found their way to his chest next, tracing the solid mounds of his muscles, the warmth of his skin. He tugged me closer, so he could see me better in the dim firelight filtering through the tent.
“I want you,” he said, voice low and yearning. “Every part of you.”
The words stripped away the last of my inhibition.
I kissed him hard, fumbling for the last few buttons of his shirt until it was completely undone. He helped me tug it off his shoulders. His skin glowed faintly in the flicker of light, muscles shifting as he guided my hands down his torso. He undressed me in turn, unbuttoning carefully, peeling away the fabric.
We heeled off our boots.
We unzipped each other’s shorts and released the heat inside.
Soon we were nothing but two naked bodies, one lying on top of the other.
Kissing.
Longing.
Desperately wanting what was to come next.
Swiftly he reached for his pack again, pulling out a foil packet and a small sachet, and all I felt was a rush of gratitude, relief, and something far deeper.
