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As we crest the other side of the ridge and make our way through the field, Charlie collapses like a sack of potatoes. Fuck. Dust plumes around his face as he sighs. I lift up my foot and nudge his side. There’s no hitch of breath. No reaction at all. Fuck.

Kneeling, I slip my hands under his shoulder and roll him onto his back. His vacant eyes stare up at me. My heart rate quickens as I try to think of ways to salvage this fucking mess. No sense in dragging him the rest of the way. I don’t even think I have the additional upper body strength to do that. He has to do it himself. I pull my arm back and unleash a brutal slap. The red mark of my handprint seems to mirror my feelings. Standing, I let out a guttural growl.

“GODDAMMIT! YOU FUCKING—ASS—” My string of curses stops as I turn to face the field. “I know you’re there…Help…please.”

Movement to the right captures my attention.

30

Alarge figure rises from the grass twenty feet away. Even at this distance, I recognize the outline of Ethan’s strong shoulders. The stupid grin as he gets closer already makes me regret my words. Wordlessly, he leans down and picks up Charlie. Throwing him over his shoulder, he makes his way over to the small post in the field that I prepared this afternoon. I stop in my tracks behind him. Throwing him down, Ethan lets out a long sigh. His head turns from the man at his feet to me. A flash of heat shines in his eyes, air exits my lungs and I forget to breathe. Has he always been this beautiful?

My lungs finally remember how to work and expand. The rise of his chest matches the pace of his strained breathing. I probably should have called him. Though, I have to say, if this is how he looks angry, we’re going to be fighting like cats and dogs. My brain continues to search for words to speak, but I find nothing.

Biting my lip, I start to string a sentence together, before he lets out a growl and takes several steps toward me. Lifting me off my feet without hesitation, he holds me to his chest. His fingers glide along the back of my neck into the base of my skull as his soft lips close over mine. My senses heighten. The pine and sea salt of him envelops me. I’m drowning in him and I don’t want to stop. Everything around us fades. A growl from his throat vibrates across my lips, making my thighs tremble. The animalistic feel of his punishing kiss sends my pussy quivering in anticipation. Letting out a soft moan of my own, I run my fingers into his hair.

The tips of his fingers curl in my hair, forcing my head back, breaking our kiss much too soon, but he doesn’t let me go.

“Good evening, my little fury. It seems I can’t leave you for a few days without you getting yourself into trouble.” He looks at me with his eyes that seemingly carry a sparkle all on their own. Setting me down on my feet, he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear.

“I am decidedly not in trouble. Thank you very much. I merely required some muscle. I needed a jackass.” I point at his chest. “And look…I got one.” My lips curl into a smug smile.

He throws his head back, letting out a deep throaty laugh that causes my pussy to quiver all over again.

“I would like to argue that point,” he says, pulling me in closer. Leaning down, he runs the tip of his nose along mine. “You could tell me to pull a car up a mountain, and like Sisyphus, I would.”

Turning my head to the side, I give him a kiss on the chin. His lips tug up into a smirk. He takes a step back, then another. The absence of his heat sends a sinking feeling to my stomach.

“Have fun, darling.”

Between the surge of lust and excitement of seeing him, it takes a moment for my mind to catch up and process what’s happening.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going back to my spot.” He points toward the tree line. “I figured this part of our game remains unchanged.”

I can’t help the painful eye roll at hearing his words.

“Are you fucking serious right now? You’re just going to walk back into the trees and watch me?”

“Yes…I mean, I just figured…” He stumbles through his sentence as I move closer to invade his space.

“Wrong. Just stop talking. Sit over there. Where I can see you.” I place my hands on my hips.

His brow quirks up as he prepares to speak. Thinking better of it, he huffs before lowering into the grass.

I pull my bag closer and begin pulling out the tools, arranging them in order of need. As I lay down the last tool, a sense of rightness settles over me. I cast a glance over my shoulder at Ethan. His hands are linked over his bent knee. Relaxing against his backpack as though he’s at a picnic. I never really thought of having to work with someone watching me. I’ve made my mission to avoid that. Somehow, with Ethan here, it seems right.

Taking the saw, I line the blade up under Charlie’s chin and begin drawing it across his neck. My forearms begin to stiffen under the constant pressure, causing the blade to tangle in the muscles for a minute, but I overcome the mild inconvenience. Once I hear the pop, I lift his head and place it next to his torso.

I pick up the marking floss and stretch the line of the floss across his neck, mapping out the pattern of the petals. Then, I line up the scalpel to make the first cut. Steadying my breath, I try to calm my nerves. The moment the blade sinks into the skin, my mind becomes sharp, focusing on the angle and depth of my cuts.

Once I have the initial petals cut, I gently peel them back to expose the muscle. The most arduous part of my flower begins. Using the scalpel, I begin to cut the muscles of the neck into the angular strips.

I grab my pins, and manipulate the petal pieces into place. Pressing the pins into each one, I secure them in place. After struggling with a slippery petal on the back of his neck for far too long, I take a step back to observe my work. A weightlessness overwhelms me as I see my vision begin to take form. Grabbing two lengths of rope, I begin lashing each arm to the matching leg. I pull out the third pre-cut length of rope and loop it under his legs. Lifting them, I shuffle his feet closer to his body, pulling as hard as I can. His knees bend, coming nearly to his chest. Stepping around to the front, I use my foot to nudge his legs open a little wider for the pièce de résistance. Lifting his head off the ground, I carry it to his body. A sense of completeness falls into place, and I drop his head between his legs.

“It’s like he’s giving birth to his own head.”

I smile and look over at Ethan, who has walked over without me noticing.