"Three days," I tell her. "I hid in my own timber for three days because of what you do to me."
"I know."
"Hauled loads at dawn so I wouldn't see you."
"I know."
"Carved a spoon at four in the morning and broke it because my hands couldn't hold steady thinking about your face."
Her lips part. Her pulse is going hard in her throat. I can see it above the turquoise.
"You told that woman you were mine." My voice is low, coming from somewhere deeper than my chest. "Stood in a gravel yard and said it out loud."
"I did."
"Did you mean it?"
Her hand comes up. Fists in my flannel. Her eyes don't leave mine.
"What do you think?"
I kiss her.
Not careful. Not the half-reach in the rain where I pulled back. I kiss her with my hand in her hair and her body against mine, and she opens her mouth under me and makes a sound that goes straight down my spine and detonates.
She tastes like coffee. Her hands go from my chest to my neck to my jaw, pulling me deeper, and I let her take whatever she wants because I've been rationing myself for twelve years and I'm done.
The hat falls. I hear it hit the floor. Don't care. My free arm wraps her waist, hauls her closer, and she's up on her toes, pressed against me, and the soft noise she makes when my tongue finds hers empties my head of every thought but this one.
More.
I back her against the table. The bowls rattle. Her ass hits the edge and she gasps against my mouth, and I lift her onto it without thinking, hands spanning her waist, setting her down soshe's face level with me. Her legs part. I step between them. Her boots hook behind my calves.
"Aiden." Against my mouth. Breathing hard.
"Yeah."
"Don't you dare pull away this time."
"I'm not pulling away." I take her face in both hands. Thumbs at her jaw. Her eyes are blown dark, green swallowed by black, and she's looking at me like I'm the first solid ground she's found in a long time. "I'm right here."
"You're right here," she repeats.
"I'm right here."
I kiss her again. Slower this time. Savoring. Her hands slide up my chest and around my neck, fingers in the hair at my collar, and I feel her everywhere. Against my ribs. Between my thighs. In my bloodstream, pumping through me with every heartbeat.
When I pull back she chases me, forehead pressed to mine, breathing my air.
"You broke a spoon?" she asks.
"Snapped the handle clean off."
"Over my face."
"Over your face."
She laughs. Wet. Bright. Her forehead drops to my shoulder and I hold her there with both arms, my chin on the top of her head, breathing in.
