Page 45 of Willow


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“This is my favorite spot at the lake,” Zane confesses, his voice low and reverent. His arm is slung across the back of the bench, and his fingers are toying with the ends of my hair. “I come here sometimes when I need to think.”

“What do you think about?” I ask. I pull my knees up into my chest and lean into his torso.

He sighs, his eyes still out on the water. The wind is starting to pick up, creating ripples on the surface.

“What I’m going to do with my life now that everything has changed.”

“And?” I gently prompt.

“And … I still don’t really know.” He chuckles mirthlessly. “I guess I’m figuring it out bit by bit.”

“Aren’t we all?” I murmur.

“What are you figuring out?” he asks, winding a strand of hair around his finger. “You’ve got your career back in the city, right? Sounds like your life is pretty mapped out.”

I hesitate. I haven’t opened up about my situation back home to anyone here. Not even him. I’ve talked about my options a little with my parents, but mostly, we’ve spoken about my dad and how he is recovering.

“I’m kind of in a transition period,” I admit after a few moments.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I’m trying to figure things out too.”

“I thought you loved your job,” he says.

“So did I. But …” I pause again, trying to put how I’m feeling into words. I feel guarded, like I can’t be completely transparent. With Zane or with anyone else. It’s like I want people to see an image that I want to portray, but not the real picture. “Being up here … I’m starting to wonder if all I’m doing is working my life away.”

“What would you want to do if you decided to stop working in surgery?”

“I have no idea,” I admit. “But that’s the beauty of my profession … I can switch it up and go into a different field of medicine anytime I want to.”

We sit in the stillness for a while together before I speak again. “It’s so peaceful out here. It’s such a stark contrast to my life back in the city. I’m always on the go, running from one place to the next. Always exhausted. I just looked up, and years have passed in the blink of an eye. Then, I come here, and all the tension just melts away. It’s like time stands still.”

“Is the tension gone because of this place or what we did last night?” he teases, shifting my attention back to the way he touched me and loved me in the dark. The way he made me explode. He turns his head until his mouth lands on my neck, just below my ear. “And this morning.”

I smile, bending my neck because it tickles. “Both.”

He moves to my lips and kisses me softly and then looks forward again. “How much longer are you here?”

I stiffen at the reminder that my time is limited. My time here withhimis a ticking clock.

“We’ve still got a few days, right?” he asks.

I nod.

“Let’s go camping. We’ll wait to go after the weekend because it’ll be less crowded. And I want the place and you all to myself.”

“Okay,” I agree. I want to spend all the time I can with him.

We leave a few minutes later, and Zane takes me somewhere casual to eat. I try to keep my mind focused on the present, but somehow, the past and the future keep slipping in, trying to steal my peace. There’s a cloud lingering overhead that wasn’t there earlier today.

It’s easy to get lost in my infatuation for Zane and the way he makes me feel. I want it to consume me. I welcome it. But with that little reminder from him earlier that the clock keeps moving forward, I’m finding that time is a gift and a curse, all at once.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ZANE

I awaken with a groan as wet kisses make their way down my torso. The late morning sun is sneaking through my windows, lighting up my bedroom. My mind is stuck somewhere between a dream and reality. I throw my head back on my pillow as lips land on my cock, the warmth and gentle suction causing me to harden instantly, and I know this isn’t a dream. It feels too good to be a figment of my imagination. I thread my fingers through that thick, tousled hair as Willow comes into view. She moves up and down, her tongue dragging across my sensitive skin as she sucks harder.

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