She tilts her head so her cheek brushes my chin. I freeze, every cell in my body lit up, but I don’t move. I want this to be her show.
The kite swoops, dips, then soars, string humming between our fingers. I feel her shoulders loosen, the tension draining outas she gets the hang of it. The beach is empty, just us and the sound of waves and the mad flutter of nylon in the air.
After a minute, she glances back at me, eyes shining with something close to victory. Not the hollow, brittle light I’ve seen lately, but the real thing—alive and fierce. This might be the first time she’s allowed herself to relax since the attack, which gives me a sense of victory too, something we can share in this moment.
I raise my eyebrows. “Told you. Master.”
She rolls her eyes, but then she laughs—hoarse and thin, but there. She lets the kite circle higher and higher until it’s almost invisible against the sky.
Slight anxiety pools in my chest—this seems like a perfect moment to say something profound, but nothing comes to mind. Although there’s something to be said about enjoying the silence with someone you love. Instead, I squeeze my hand over hers where it rests on the string, enjoying having her in my arms. It feels like it’s been forever.
It takes a while, but eventually she’s completely relaxed, letting me take her weight as she leans against me. There’s something mesmerizing about watching that tiny kite block out the faint stars behind it. More than anything, it’s about feel, and the distraction of it. About giving her a new memory to fixate on in her quiet moments.
We stand there until the wind dies and the kite sags, floating in lazy loops to the sand. She reels it in, winding the string around the cheap plastic holder, and when she turns to face me, there’s a flush on her cheeks from the chilly March air.
I reach up and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, my fingertips lingering a little longer than they need to. “Better than staring at your phone all night,” I murmur.
She doesn’t argue. She simply looks at me, and for the first time in forever, I see Raina—the real one, not weighed down with depression and fear for her future.
I sling an arm around her waist and draw her closer to me, until our bodies are flush, and then run my hands up and down her arms to give her some of my warmth.
Her eyes trace over me, like she’s trying to memorize every detail of this moment, making the corner of my lips curl into a smirk. I mentally pat myself on the back,I think I’ve done it!
I’m too distracted in my own self-praise that I miss her leaning in until her lips are on mine in a soft kiss. Her lips are so cold I could swear she dipped them in the Atlantic, but I don’t care. She tastes like the weird tea and the salt in the air. Like the ghost of what she used to be and something brand new and sharp, all at once.
My brain shorts out for a beat, and then I get it together. I lean in and kiss her back, deepening it, sinking into the heat of her mouth even as she shivers against me. Her hand comes up and curls around my neck, pulling me closer, and for a second I swear the whole world just stops. As if the only thing left is her, right here in my arms, and I’m the only one who remembers how fucking alive she can get in the right light.
She pulls away first. A little breathless, eyes shining and wild, lips parted like she wants to bite me or maybe ask for more but can’t pick. I know that look. I used to see it after shows, after we nailed some song better than anyone had a right to. Maybe this is the same thing. Maybe it’s just as holy.
I hook my thumb along her jaw, tilting her head back as my fingers tangle in the mess of her hair. “You know if we weren’t on the sand right now, I’d have you on your back in about three seconds.”
A hum comes from her throat similar to the ones she’s been practicing for her voice therapy. It’s full of gravel, but it’s also soaked in desire, making my cock harder than it’s been in weeks.
I don’t need a second invitation when she tilts her head toward the house. Circling my arm around her waist, we both stumble through the moonlit sand, rushing for her porch where we toe off our shoes and drop the kite.
We barely make it through the first step inside before her hands slide through my hair, yanking my face down to hers.
It starts with just her mouth, soft at first, a brush of lips, but it goes molten fast. The second time, she kisses me like she’s been waiting all year, like she’s going to climb inside my mouth and light a match. Her fingers tangle at the back of my neck, and she pulls hard enough I actually grunt. For someone with a healing throat, she is not shy about using her teeth.
We continue through the house, but we don’t make it very far. Once we’re in the hallway, she presses my back against the wall, her body pressing against mine, grinding into my hard cock. The passion between us is hotter than ever.
It’s like she’s simply been waiting for the right combo to unlock her from the cage she’s been trapped in. Moving my hands to her waist, she doesn’t wait for them to settle; she shoves them under the hem of her sweatshirt, demanding skin on skin contact. I oblige, not one to say no when it’s something my hands have physically ached for.
She doesn’t talk, so she uses every other sense. Her hands are all over, mapping my face, my chest, the cut of my jaw like she’s making sure it’s all still here and real and hers. I let her. I want her to take whatever she needs.
But she’s not the only one starving.
My palms glide across the curve of her spine, and she arches into it. The movement has her rubbing against my cock, making it throb with need. Fuck. I have to get inside her.
Sliding my hands to her thighs, I easily lift her, holding her in place and giving her time to wrap her legs around me. I watch as her eyes go wide, feeling the hardness of my dick press against her clit. Before she can give me any other reaction, I run up the stairs with her, making my way to her bedroom.
She lets out a soft, accidental laugh. The sound isn’t the same, but her new laugh is instantly my new favorite thing. The only thing her new voice changes is letting me fall in love with all her sounds all over again.
We make it to her bedroom, and I shut the door behind us. I briefly thought of taking her to mine, to avoid all her negative memories, but the goal of tonight is to replace those with new ones.
I don’t even wait for the latch to click in place before I’m turning and pinning her to the door. She gasps—a real, ragged, involuntary sound that shoots right through my spine. I press in harder, feeling her hips grind forward, needing the friction as much as I do.
She nips my bottom lip, then licks the sting away with a half-smile. Her eyes are a dark stormy blue filled with need. She’s unbreakable now. She’s predatory.
