Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
JESSAMY
A hand drifts along my front, warm and unhurried, coming to rest on my stomach. My lips curl at the sensation, my body instinctively arching into his. I place my hand on Beau’s, and he parts his fingers, letting them entwine with mine.
“Good morning,” I whisper, my voice still thick with sleep.
A kiss lands on my neck, then my shoulder. “Good morning,” Beau murmurs, his voice deep and rumbling, sending a shiver through me.
I tilt back, offering my lips. But he doesn’t kiss me, not right away. Instead, he teases, brushing his mouth along my cheek, the rough stubble of his unshaven face tickling my skin. A playful hum of frustration escapes me, and I slide my hand free of his to push my fingers into his hair, tugging at the base of his neck.
He gives in, kissing me at last. His lips are soft but insistent, and his hand now roams freely, gliding down my body with a touch that makes me tremble.
I feel him slip his fingers between my thighs. My body melts under him, my lips parting in a breathless purr against his. “Good morning,” I hum again.
Beau chuckles, his chest rumbling against mine as he presses closer. His weight is grounding, his touch deliberate, and when desire builds, my whole world narrows to the space between us.
I kiss him, smothering the moan that rises in my throat, and let myself fall back. My knees part, welcoming his fingers in. Pleasure floods through me, sweeping away everything else—every doubt, every hesitation. I swell with it, with happiness so fierce it’s almost startling.
Because somehow, against all odds, we’re here. We made it. This trip together, this mountain retreat—none of it was the hopeless detour I feared it might be. Beau and I are still in love, just as fiercely as ever. We just needed to lose ourselves to find each other again.
When I come, it’s with a soft whimper, a sigh that barely breaks the stillness of the room. I could drift back to sleep right now, cradled in Beau’s embrace, tingling and weightless. But the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafts up from downstairs, pulling my thoughts into sharper focus.
This isn’t our bed.
This isn’t even our house—or our world.
It belongs to a stranger.
Though, can I really call Malcolm a stranger anymore? He knew me that first night, somehow better than I knew myself. That’s not a stranger. That’s fate. That’s a man who was always meant to cross my path, to sweep me off my feet when the time was right. Or, I suppose, to sweep us off our feet.
Last night. Malcolm and Beau. Beau and Malcolm.
I kiss Beau again, driven wild from the memory. He kisses me back, and for a fleeting moment, I wonder if he’s thinking about Malcolm, too. Strange how another man has brought us so close together again. But I won’t question it. I’ll embrace it. I’ll chase this feeling as far as it’ll take us.
Not much further, though, I’m afraid.
Because behind the sound of Beau’s breathing, beneath the faint creaks of Malcolm moving around downstairs, there’s another sound this morning.
A soft, steady tapping sound.
The storm is passing.
The sun blazes in the sky, warming the air just enough to melt the icicles crawling down the roof. Soon, the ice will fade and the roads will clear. We’ll have to leave this place—this fragile, perfect little world we’ve lost ourselves in.
We’ll have to leave Malcolm.
The thought threatens to take root, but I won’t let it. Instead, I twist in Beau’s arms, and he pulls me into a kiss that erases every fear. His lips claim mine with a deep, lingering hunger, stealing my breath and silencing my doubts.
For now, this adventure is ours.
I’ll hold on to it for as long as I can.