"Not what?"
"Not fair." She squirmed beneath him, trying to free her hands. "I want to touch you too."
"You will." He released her wrists, sliding down her body to press kisses across her stomach. "Soon. I promise. But right now…" Another kiss, lower. "Right now I need you to understand something."
"What?"
He looked up at her, meeting her eyes over the landscape of her body. "That I see you. All of you. Not just the parts you think are acceptable. Not just the mask you wear for everyone else." He pressed his lips to the soft skin of her inner thigh, felt her tremble. "I see the woman who took over a failing flower shop and turned it into something beautiful. The woman who puts everyone else first and forgets to take care of herself. The woman who's been hurt before and is brave enough to try again anyway."
"Thallos—"
"I see you, Marigold." His voice dropped to something barely above a whisper. "And you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
She made a sound—half sob, half laugh—and her hands found his hair, pulling him up to meet her mouth. The kiss was salt-tinged from her tears, desperate and tender all at once.
"Please," she breathed against his lips. "I need?—"
"I know."
He shed the trouser quickly, the careful coordination required for satyr anatomy had become second nature long ago—and then there was nothing between them anymore. Just skin against skin, heat against heat, two bodies finding their way toward each other like they'd been designed for exactly this purpose.
When he finally slid inside her, they both went still.
Her eyes were wide, her breath caught, her hands gripping his shoulders like she was afraid he might disappear. He held himself above her, trembling with the effort of not moving, giving her time to adjust.
"Okay?" he managed.
"Yes." Her voice was barely audible. "More than okay. You feel?—"
He moved, just slightly, and her words dissolved into a moan.
They found their rhythm slowly, building from gentle to urgent to something that bordered on frantic. The cabin filled with the sounds of their breathing, the creak of the mattress, the occasional moan or whispered endearment. Moonlight shifted across the floor as time lost all meaning.
He wanted it to last forever.
He wanted to stay suspended in this moment—her body wrapped around his, her gasps hot against his ear, theoverwhelming rightness of being exactly where he was supposed to be—until the end of time.
But his body had other plans.
"Close," he warned, his rhythm faltering. "I'm?—"
"Me too." Her nails raked down his back. "Don't stop. Please don't?—"
He didn't.
She came apart beneath him with a cry that was half his name and half something wordless, her whole body arching off the mattress. The sight of her—the feel of her, clenching around him—tipped him over the edge, and he followed her into that bright oblivion with a groan that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than his throat.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
He collapsed beside her, pulling her against his chest, his heart hammering so hard he was certain she could feel it. The cabin was quiet except for the sound of their ragged breathing and the distant chirp of crickets outside the window.
"That was…" Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. "I don't have words."
"Good." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Words are overrated anyway."
She laughed—that soft, surprised laugh that always made his chest tight—and tilted her face up to look at him. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair a tangled mess, her eyes still bright with residual tears.
"I love you."
