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Her hair is messy from my hands. Her mouth still looks pink and swollen from kissing. The gold butterflies I gave her sway faintly at her ears every time the truck jolts.

Up ahead, an opening breaks through the trees. I turn off the road, tires crunching over gravel, dead leaves, and old sticks. The truck rocks as I guide it into a small clearing tucked away from the main path. A little hunting pull-off, tucked far enough from the road to feel forgotten. Tonight, it’s ours. Private.

I put the truck in park.

Neither of us moves.

The engine ticks as it cools. The song plays low through the speakers, too smooth for the cold woods pressing in around us. Moonlight catches across the hood and glitters over the snow.

Then Clair looks at me.

Cheeks flushed. Eyes dark. Lips parted like she’s about to say something, but nothing comes out.

Mine.

I shove the door open and climb out before the last decent thought in my head disappears. The door slams behind me, cutting off another laugh from her, and I round the hood fast.

When I pull her door open, she launches herself at me, arms locking around my neck, legs wrapping tight around my hips. Mouth on mine. I catch her on instinct, hands gripping her thighs before sliding to her ass as I pull her tight against me.

Fuck. Me.

I stumble back half a step, recover, and kiss her harder. Her tongue brushes mine, and every thought in my head burns clean out. I kick the door shut and carry her toward the back of the truck, my mouth never leaving hers. My hand fumbles for the tailgate handle, misses once because she bites my lower lip, and for a second I forget how hands work.

She laughs against my mouth.

Evil woman.

I find the handle and yank the tailgate down. She nips at my neck, teeth scraping just beneath my jaw, and my grip tightens around her.

The truck bed is half packed with crates of supplies, folded tarps, rope, tools, and a few bags we shoved aside before leaving camp. I push one crate back with my fist, clearing enough space, and yank one of the folded tarps over the tailgate before setting her down, stepping between her legs.

Her hands fist in my flannel, dragging me close.

Too many layers separate us. Fabric. Denim. Cold air. Every one of them feels personal. My body throbs with the need to get closer, to erase every last inch between us.

My hand slides to her jaw, gripping her face as I deepen the kiss. I taste her like I can memorize her this way, carve this moment into a place nothing can touch. She breaks away just enough to breathe my name against my ear. Her fingers drop to the front of my jeans, palming me with shaky urgency.

This isn’t restrained anymore. It’s frenzied. Messy. All the years between us collapsing into hands, teeth, and heat.

I want to be careful. I want to take my time. I want to worship every inch of her until she understands what she means to me.

But the way she’s looking at me? I am not strong enough to pretend I don’t need her right now.

My heart pounds so hard it feels like it might crack through my ribs.

Her hands slide up my chest, working open the buttons of my flannel as she goes. I didn’t wear a shirt beneath it, so every inch she exposes hits cold air. “I need you now, Leon.” She kisses down my now-exposed chest.

Say fucking less.

My restraint burns away. I grip the edge of her sweater as she lifts her arms, pull it over her head, and drop it behind us. Her hands go to the clasp of her bra next, quick and certain, and then that’s gone too.

Moonlight spills over her skin.

Beautiful doesn’t touch it.

Not even close.

She’s flushed and breathing hard, hair wild around her face, small gold butterflies brushing her neck as she looks at me like she wants to see me fall apart.