Chapter 37 #2
“That’s all Chrysa.” I flail his circlet at the display on the blanket around us. “I’ve been too busy planning this food to even think about that food.”
He glances down, scans. “What is all of this?”
My entire body flushes. “A few of your favorite recipes? From the game?”
“Favorites…I don’t even know I have yet?”
I wince. “Yes?”
Every muscle in him loosens as his forehead falls against mine. “What am I going to do with you?”
Fifteen different, irreverent ideas come immediately to mind. I beat them back with a stick.
“Lemonade?”
I shiver. “Yes?”
“Is it safe to assume you’ve been very in love from the first moment, and I have been very dense just as long?”
“W-well…I mean…there is a potential…a high potential even…that I…um…have been obsessed with you for a very, very long time, yes. Before we met, even. When you were still just a…videogamecharacter.”
To that horrible confession, he says, “Great.”
Then his lips crash into mine, soft and rough and—
Oh…good…granite.
I melt beneath the pressure—carbon becoming diamond.
His fingers brace behind my neck, delve into my hair, grip. I lose his circlet in my lap as I reach for his shirt and draw him in, closer, closer, closer.
He swears against my tongue as his stubble chafes my chin, rubbing my skin raw with his every determined motion.
When I can’t catch a breath to save my life, he breaks the connection, taking my entire soul away with the decision.
Then his face buries against my neck, pressing a hard, tickling kiss to my pulse.
“Breathe,” he exhales, sounding no more oxidized than I am.
He curses. His tongue flicks. I cave toward him, possibly uttering his name like a prayer.
His kisses dot lower, across my collarbone. The hand in my hair falls to my waist, pressing deep into my skin, so I can feel every finger.
“These past weeks have been agony.” His nose runs up the column of my throat, guiding the trail of kisses and the prickle of scruff.
“This is all I’ve been able to think of while holding you.
All night. I fall asleep to dream of it.
I wake, hating that none of my dreams happened.
Every second, I love you more. Every move.
Every smile. Every single blissful touch.
You entrance me.” He dapples my jaw with feather-light brushes.
“I’ve wondered if it’s been wrong to envision you the way I have been when you’ve deigned to trust me in such vulnerable moments.
I am so sorry for any thoughts I’ve had that have gone too far. ”
“No.” I cling, pitiful, but I can’t find the shame that tends to follow me wherever I go right now. “If we’re apologizing for that kind of thing, I should really go first.”
There will never be anything more wonderful than the feeling of Samson chuckling beneath my ear. “Really?”
“Pleading forgiveness wouldn’t be enough penitence for the things I’ve thought about you. I blame the shoulders.”
“My shoulders?” he murmurs, drawing back just enough to peer at me with half-lidded eyes.
I gulp. “I really like your shoulders. Keeping my hands off them is hard…but I don’t know how I’d stop myself if I start, and the food…”
His gaze slips down, leisurely taking in the untouched plates we’ve contortioned ourselves around. “You worked so hard.” His thumb casually strokes my side. “I want to love you as deeply as you love me.” His eyes meet mine. “Teach me every part of you.”
Screw the food.
I let my hands find his shoulders, soak in the firm muscle. It’s enough to make me weak. It’s hard to believe this is really happening. He really wants to marry me? To know me? What if he doesn’t like what he learns? What if—
His lips find mine again, grazing. His hand travels up my side, and his circlet tumbles off my lap as he lifts me. Next thing I know, he has me pinned to the bark of a tree, weeping branches singing around us as he—
Oh my.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he whispers, dragging his hands up my thighs as he circles them around his waist, “but did you just think an expletive in reference to the food?”
When his hands skate back down, they tuck beneath the layers of my skirt, against nothing more than my fleece-lined tights, and I tighten my grip on his big, beautiful shoulders. “I really, truly did.”
“It was loud.”
My mouth is so terribly dry. “Was it?”
He nods. “Are you comfortable?”
Not in any sense of the word, no. The urge to jump him is quite near consuming me, except I can’t, because I guess we’re not exactly married yet, and also I am already wrapped around him, so I don’t know what good jumping again would do. All I say, however, is, “The bark’s a little scratchy.”
He swaps our positions, dropping his back against the tree and rocking me into his gravity. His shaking fingers pull through my hair. “Better?”
Pressed against his chest, I whisper, “Yeah.” Peeking at his eyes, I ask, “Are you comfortable now, though?”
He squeezes my thighs and smiles. “Yep.”
Heart beating like a drum, I…stare. In awe. Of him.
His thumb traces my bottom lip. “I’ll eat everything you made for me.
” His fingers find the tie holding the neckline of my frilled Autumn blouse on my shoulders; he looses it.
“I don’t want you to think for a moment I don’t appreciate how much time and care went into it.
” He pulls the fabric of my shirt down my shoulder, revealing the skin and my bra strap. “I just have no self control…”
We’ve been sharing a bed for seasons. I’m going to say we have impeccable self control.
Truly…truly…remarkable self control.
His swear undoes me as he runs a fingertip over the freckles sprinkled on my shoulders like stardust. “I think…” He leans in for a kiss, a taste, and I sag into him, helpless.
“I have a thing for your shoulders, too.” He nuzzles, smiling against me.
“They’re sugared…like your cheeks.” His warm breath heats my flesh to a boil. “You’re so beautiful, Samantha.”
While I’m attempting to recover my breath in the wake of my government name, Samson wraps his arms around me and holds on tight. My lips skim the scar on his neck when I give in, completely at his mercy.
“When are we getting married?” he asks.
“Winter. I want snow.”
His arms tighten. “That’s perfect. Iced lemonade.”
I laugh.
“Should we stop sharing a bed until then?”
I kiss his scar. “I mean, we could. If you want me to die.”
He hums. “I don’t want that. I want to know if you’re sugared everywhere…” He kisses. “Is that okay?”
I am very okay with that. “We can find out together on our wedding night?”
“Together?”
I wet my lips, against his skin, accidentally. His embrace solidifies, so I whisper an apology. “I’ve only lived in this body for a few seasons, so I don’t quite know it very well.”
“Ah. I see. That makes sense.” He exhales, so peacefully. “It will be an honor to learn you, Citrus.”
Yeah.
I think… I think it will be an honor to learn myself, too.
Right here, in Gem Ridge, where I belong.