Page 192 of Silent Shadows

We’re far enough from the RV and trail to know we’re alone. Just desert and darkness and the strange privacy of open space. His hand stays warm against the back of my neck, steady and grounding, and my mind goes fuzzy.

Miles grips my neck and tilts my chin up to claim my mouth. It’s a hot, hard, hungry kiss that says everything we haven’t voiced yet.

I curl my fingers into his jacket, pulling him closer and arching into him. My core aches, and that ache shoots down to my toes as I breathe deep. Soap, cedar, campfire. Fuck, I’ve missed him.

He tastes like mint and salt. Familiar enough that something instinctive in me unravels, my brain going quiet and shutting down the parts that overthink before the rest can catch up.

His forehead rests briefly against mine when we stop long enough to breathe.

“You sure?” he asks quietly.

I laugh once, breathless and watery around the edges. “You really gonna make me communicate after I literally just suggested we talk about it later?”

His mouth twitches, while his hands roam my body. “Unfortunately.”

God. This man.

I tip forward until my forehead bumps lightly against his again.

“Well… Are you asking whether I’m sure about being here or sure that I want you to fuck me? Because the answer to both is yes.”

Before I get the chance to laugh at my own joke, which I frequently do, Miles’s hands are on me. He fumbles with my flannel’s buttons then cleanly yanks my sports bra over my head, letting both fall to the ground. My nails drag up his sides as I peel his jacket off and then his Henley over his head, a shiver running over his body. I grab his waist roughly and close the space between us, our bare chests pressing together as our mouths meet again, feasting on each other.

“I missed these,” he rasps, his hands finding my breasts, warm and rough. My nipples form peaks under his touch, and I release a gravelly moan as he pinches them. He lowers his mouth to one, taking it in his mouth. His teeth graze one, already so sensitive, and I gasp, pulling him closer by his hair. Harder. His dick strains against his jeans, pressing against my own denim. The pressure is enough to make my hips buck, seeking friction. More. I want more.

I reach down to unzip him and grip his cock hard enough that he grunts and thrusts into my hand.

“Fuck, Daisy,” he groans, palming my ass to lift me, and I wrap my legs around his waist. My mouth finds the sweet spot where his neck meets his sculpted shoulders, teeth grazing skin. He carries me, taking a few steps further into the woods’ shadows, and lays me down on the sandy desert floor, surprisingly soft against my bare back.

I kick off my boots, then Miles pulls my jeans and soaked thong off in one easy, sweeping motion. He looks down on me, laid bare in the moonlight, and I see his nostrils flare before his head drops between my legs. I gasp at the warmth of his tongue against my clit, then the feeling of his fingers sliding inside me. He adds a third finger as he pumps his hand, but it’s not enough.

“I want to feel you inside me, Miles.” I moan.

My nails dig into his shoulders and I pull him up, wanting to feel his weight on top of me. Miles moves his hips to find his own friction, and I shiver at the feel of his cock rubbing through my wet core.

“Make me yours,” I beg, and I swear he fucking whimpers.

In an instant, he’s all the way inside me. My eyes widen at the delicious stretch of his throbbing length, and I still want more. My arms and legs wrap around him, pulling him closer as if I could envelop him into my very being.

Miles groans my name as he drives into me.

The gravitational pull between us doesn’t feel strange or surprising anymore. I want it all with Miles. I want groggy early mornings. Bringing each other coffee. Long drives and silly arguments and his overprepared emergency kits. I want to hear him mutter about batteries while I pretend to listen. I want the version of my life that feels more real when he’s in it.

He slows his thrusts, pressing deep in a way that has me feeling every part of him. I fight to keep my eyes from tearing up as I reach for his cheek, brushing my thumb across his stubble. He looks at me, checking in without words, and I pull his forehead to mine.

“You okay?” he murmurs into my lips as he gently kisses me.

I nod. Words feel inadequate right now. But I try anyway, whispering, “I just really missed you.” I kiss his eyebrow, then his nose, then part his lips with my mouth in a deep, claiming kiss. I’m not just his. He is mine. I bite his lower lip, and he growls.

“Don’t stop. This feels so fucking good.”

He keeps up at this deliciously torturous pace, and I can feel myself already about to come. Then the slow, building fire in my belly erupts without warning.

“Miles!” I cry out, and a rush of warm liquid washes over my core, surprising me. I don’t think I’ve ever squirted before. No, I know I haven’t, because I once did a whole episode chronicling my attempts. Fuck. My eyes go wide as my orgasm rips through my body. Miles doesn’t let up, keeping his slow, steady pace as waves of bliss crash through me. When I finally come back into my body, he looks at me, awestruck.

“That was fucking everything.” His eyes look wild in the moonlight as he pants.

“I’ve never done that before,” I say, laughing. That’s when I notice how much he’s holding back. How patient he’s been working me through that life-changing orgasm.