Several seconds pass like this. The two of us, fused together, struggling to catch our breath.
We’re still pressed together, his arms wrapped tight around my waist, my body molded against his like he never wants to let go.
Quiet. Safe.
He slowly comes down, his breath growing even against my shoulder, his chest rising and falling against my back. One of his hands slides up, fingers brushing over my ribs, softer now. Reverent.
Like he’s still holding something fragile.
“You okay?” His voice is gentle, nothing like the man who just broke me wide open.
I nod, still catching my breath. “Yeah. Just… recovering.”
A laugh rumbles in his chest, and he presses a kiss to the base of my neck. It’s not rushed, not heated—it feels an awful lot like adoration.
He eases from me, both of us hissing at the loss.
His seed slips out, trailing down my inner thigh, and all I do is sigh.
There’s something satisfying about the sensation. He must agree, because when he steps back, I peek at him over my shoulder and find him staring at my leg.
He groans before reaching forward to drag two fingers over my inner thigh and up to my tender pussy.
I gasp at the feel, only to drop my forehead against the wall as he pushes his cum back inside me. He’s endlessly gentle, but I still feel the delicious sting.
“There. That’s better,” he mutters, voice brimming with possessiveness as he slowly removes my dress.
Then, without another word, he scoops me into his arms like I’m weightless and carries me across the cottage to his shower. He puts me down and turns on the spray, gripping me against his bare chest. After he tests the water temperature obsessively, he grunts his approval and steps inside, lifting me with him and squeezing me firmly.
I don’t protest and curl into him, my cheek resting on his bare chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear.
For a while, we stand in silence, steam rising around us as we bask in the feeling of skin on skin.
Then he speaks.
“You’ve got me in knots, you know that?” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “You show up on my farm with that mouth, that attitude, like you’ve got everything figured out. And then you look at me like youseeme—and you like what you see. Even when I’m at my worst, acting like an asshole, doing this stupid show, dragging you down with me. None of it makes sense.”
I lift my head to look at him. He’s staring into the spray, jaw tense, like the words cost him something.
A specific L-word is on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t want to scare him. Not when he’s already shaken by the depth of whatever we’re building here.
“I do like what I see,” I say quietly, dragging my lips across the water droplets dotting his chest. “You’re worth it, Emmett.”
His eyes cut to mine, incredulity shining in them. It makes me wonder if anyone has told him he’s worth fighting for.
“I told you, I’m not scared of you. I’m not scared ofthis.” I tap a finger on his chest.
“You should be.”
I shake my head. “No, Emmett. You’re the only person here who doesn’t realize there’s nothing to fear.”
His breath catches.
But he doesn’t deny it.
He just pulls me tighter against him, like maybe, just maybe, he’s not ready to say the truth out loud—but he doesn’t want to be alone with it anymore either.
So I let him hold me.
