Chapter Forty-One
EMERY
THE EARLY MORNING glow filters through the thin curtains, waking me.
I hear the movement of the river lapping against the shore, the cry of a heron somewhere distant.
Reid’s arm is heavy around my waist, his breath warm against the back of my neck.
I lie there for a while, peaceful and content, tracing lazy circles on the rough skin of his forearm, not wanting to break whatever spell this is.
When I finally shift, he groans. “Where do you think you’re going?”
A smile curves my lips, and I peek at him over my shoulder. “Just to make some coffee.”
“Will you bring me some?” he murmurs, his eyes still closed.
“Of course.” I tug on his T-shirt from last night that I find on the floor, that skims halfway down my thighs, and pad into the tiny kitchen. The coffee pot grumbles to life, and I lean against the counter, watching it drip for a few minutes before pouring two mugs—black for him, cream for me.
When I get back to bed, Reid is sitting up, his hair mussed, the sheet resting low across his hips. The sight of him—bare chested, broad shouldered, faint scar slicing diagonally down his chest—makes my heart skip a beat.
“Morning,” I say softly, passing his mug to him.
His fingers brush mine and he studies me for a beat. “Morning. You sleep okay?”
“Better than I have in a while,” I admit with a sigh. “It’s so peaceful here.”
“That’s kind of the point,” Reid says, taking a sip from his mug. He’s quiet for a moment, then, “You ever think about what that peace might look like for you? Long term?”
I tilt my head. “You mean, when this is all over?”
“Yeah,” he says, his tone careful. “What happens then? You go back to Jersey?”
The question lands hard, pulling the air from my lungs, as I realize what he’s asking. Reid’s all in and he wants to know if I am too. My throat burns at the thought of his walls going back up.
I look down at my mug and swallow hard. “I’m not sure.
My relationship with Jason is over. I have to move out of our townhouse.
” I pause. “If nothing else, being with you has made me realize I deserve so much better than what he gave me. But I’m not sure where I’ll go.
New Jersey probably won’t feel like home anymore. ”
Reid’s expression softens but he doesn’t let me off the hook. “What would feel like home?”
“I don’t know yet exactly. It’s hard to say without knowing what comes next.” I bite my lip, meeting his eyes.
Reid sets his mug down on the end table and shifts to face me. “If I asked you to stay in Tidehaven, would you consider it?”
My heart stutters. “You mean…with you?”
“I mean with me,” he says, voice low and sure. “Or near me if this feels too fast. I don’t care where we end up, as long as I don’t have to wonder where you are and I can see you every day.”
For a long moment, I just breathe, the sound of my thumping heart echoing in my ears.
“I think,” I say slowly, “if I went back to New Jersey, on some level, I’d always be looking for you.”
Reid exhales, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half smile. “That sounds like a yes.”
“It’s a maybe leaning heavily toward yes. Assuming we stop whoever is after me.”
He lifts my mug from my hands and sets it aside so he can pull me close. “I’ll take it. And I won’t stop until we do.”
When he leans in and kisses me, it’s warm and steady, the kind that feels like a promise. Outside, the river shimmers under the morning sun, and for the first time, I think I have a glimpse of what my future could look like.
WE SPEND THE morning in bed until finally, around noon, Reid suggests we explore. I’m content to explore him—every sharp angle of his muscular body—but I relent when he says there is a two-person kayak in the shed.
“Come on, get dressed.” He throws the sheet off his legs revealing his bare ass, and the jolt to my core startles me once again.
I push to my knees, catching him around the waist before he moves, my bare breasts pressing into his warm skin. He pauses then, clasping his hands over mine.
“You haven’t had enough?” he rasps.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever have enough of you,” I whisper, sliding my hands down his ripped middle.
He turns then, a playful smile on his face.
“You’re trouble, woman,” he growls, pressing a kiss to my mouth. It’s not enough though, he hurls me over his shoulder and down the hall. “Find your swimsuit.”
A few minutes later, I find him in the back yard, dragging a two-seater bright yellow kayak out of the shed. It’s a smidge dusty but he takes a minute to hose it off.
“I used to kayak in this thing all the time. Always alone.” He leads me to the edge of the riverbank.
“Good thing you’ll have someone else to pull the weight now,” I tease.
He gives me a skeptical look, like he doesn’t believe I’ll be helping all that much. “I’ll steer, which means you sit in the front.” He pushes the kayak so it’s partially in the water and partially resting on the small beach. “Get in.”
I do as I’m told and he hands me an oar. When he steps in the kayak and settles himself, he gives us a strong push off the shore and we’re off.
Our paddles dip in uneven rhythm, doing more splashing than slicing, but Reid doesn’t seem to mind. He steers behind me, his voice steady and low with words of encouragement.
“Nice and easy,” he says. “You don’t have to muscle it. Let the paddle do the work.”
“I am letting it.” I twist around to give him a smirk. “Maybe the paddle is lazy.”
A laugh bursts out of him, genuine and unguarded, releasing a swarm of butterflies in my belly. “Then maybe you should show it who’s boss.”
We wobble when I overcompensate. “There you go. Twist from your core, you’ll glide smoother that way.”
“My core wasn’t consulted about this trip,” I joke.
“Well, tell it to get on board. We’re turning left up here which means you have to paddle right. Just a little. Not too hard.” His voice is low and steady.
We find our rhythm after that, our strokes evening out, and the kayak glides smoothly through the water. A peaceful silence settles over us as we take in the scenery.
The river is still as glass, a long ribbon of green-gold light stretching ahead of us.
Cypress branches dip toward the water, their reflections so clear they could be the real thing.
Reid’s paddle makes soft, rhythmic swirls behind me, each stroke unhurried.
The farther we paddle, the quieter the world becomes.
The hum of insects replaces the noise in my head, and even the air feels softer here.
“This is my favorite part,” he says quietly. “No boats. No cell service. Just us.”
“Also, the perfect setting for a slasher film.” I glance back at him with a smile.
He grins. “If I was going to kill you, I’d have done it already.”
We slow our paddling and drift for a while. Then I spot a heron perched on a fallen tree, its feathers glowing silver in the light. I lean toward it without thinking. “Look at that—”
Reid reaches out to steady me, but the kayak wobbles under our combined shift. I burst out laughing, which doesn’t help. And then we tilt sharply to the right.
“Reid!”
The world tips cold and bright as the river swallows my gasp. When I surface sputtering, he’s already laughing, water dripping into his eyes.
“You okay?” he swims closer.
I nod, breathless from laughing and treading water. “You were supposed to keep us in the kayak!”
“I tried,” he says, grinning, his arms encircling me. I wrap my legs around his waist, allowing him to support us. “But then you had to go and smile at me.” His fingers trace the water from my cheek, lingering.
For a heartbeat, there’s nothing but the sound of the river and the thud of my pulse. Then he kisses me—wet, warm, inevitable.
IT’S LATE AFTERNOON by the time we return to the cabin. The sun hangs low over the treetops, turning the river to liquid gold. My clothes cling to me, sticky and damp, but I can’t bring myself to care.
I plant myself on the riverbank while Reid drags the kayak in. He sits next to me, our shoulders brushing.
“You handled that pretty well,” he says, his lips twitching. “Most people panic when they go overboard.”
I huff a laugh. “I’ve had enough panic the last eight weeks. Besides, cold water is good for you. And I had a Navy SEAL with me, serving and protecting.” I jut my thumb his way.
He turns to me at that, the last of the sunlight making his green eyes look hazel. “I’ll always protect you, Emery,” he rasps. Then his lips are on mine as he hovers over me, gently laying me back on the sandy riverbank.
The kiss is deep and sure, like everything we’ve worked up to hangs in this moment.
Two unlikely people, caught in the midst of a dangerous feat, somehow managing to fall in love.
Out here, it’s easy to forget the threat that looms over us back in Tidehaven, but Reid’s assurance makes me feel cherished and safe.
“There’s an outdoor shower, by the shed,” he murmurs into my mouth.
“Will you show me?” I breathe.
In one swift motion, Reid picks me up, fireman style, and treks up the bank, straight for to the outdoor shower. It’s a simple wooden platform surrounded by slats of weathered cedar, open to the warm air and the dimming sky.
He sets me on my feet and turns the knob, the water sputtering before cascading between us in a rush, cool against our overheated skin.
Reid’s fingers find the hem of my tank top, and he lifts it over my head, leaving me in my bikini.
I do the same for him, tugging his shirt up to reveal the body I’ve come to know so well.
His mouth crashes into mine, his hands gripping my loose ponytail, as he pushes my lips apart, his tongue dancing with mine.
With his other hand, he fumbles with the button on my denim shorts, letting them drop to the ground.
Then, without breaking our kiss, he pulls the string on my bikini top, and it falls away.
Just as quickly his mouth finds each breast, hungrily sucking and flicking the nipple until they peak for him.
I let out a soft moan. “This is so freeing,” I murmur between soft kisses. I reach for the tie on his board shorts, tugging them down and wrapping my fist around his hard length.
“There’s no one around,” he growls. “The things I want to do to you...” His fingers slip beneath the waistband of my bathing suit, dragging a finger up my center.
“Reid,” I whimper.
“I know, baby.”
“This is…” I sigh, my words failing me.
“I know. I feel it too.” He reaches for a bar of soap, lathering it in his palms and rubbing them over my body, lingering over my nipples and gently pinching them.
I groan. This man.
We take turns washing each other, hands slipping over the soapy lather, gentle kisses turning fervent as our bodies tangle under the water.
The sun is dipping lower, and I shiver under Reid’s touch as a light breeze blows through.
“You’re cold,” he says, his mouth on my neck.
“A little,” I admit.
He reaches up and removes the shower nozzle, rinsing the remaining soap from my body.
“And we have no towels,” he says, a hint of amusement on his lips. “Want to make a run for it?”
I bark out a laugh. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Reid turns the water off. We collect our things from the wooden floor and dart toward the cabin, cackles bursting out of us. If anyone saw us right now, surely, they’d get a laugh, but as soon as we’re inside, all traces of humor are gone.
Reid’s gaze turns on me, dark and intense, hunger flashing behind his green eyes as he steps toward me.
We’re dripping water all over the oak floor.
He reaches for the throw blanket draped over the armchair, wrapping me in it and pulling me close.
Suddenly, the air is thicker, full of want, yes, but it’s more than that.
It’s a need—a necessity—I fear I can’t live without.
Reid takes my hand and leads me to the bathroom, reaching in the small cabinet for bath towels.
We dry off in silence, watching each other.
My heart pounds so hard it feels like it’s chasing his, and I know this want for him will never quiet.
Our towels drop to the floor, and he steps closer to me again, his hands finding the curve of my ass as he lifts me.
My arms fall around his neck, and his length settles between my legs as he kicks the door open and leads us back to the unmade bed.
He lays me gently at the end of the bed, bending my knees and spreading me open.
“So fucking beautiful,” he growls, dragging a finger through my wet slit.
He drops to his knees, his mouth finding my inner thighs, peppering a line of gentle kisses straight to my heat.
When his tongue sinks into my center, a low moan tumbles out of me.
“You taste so sweet,” he says, sliding a finger inside and swirling it until I cry out.
“Reid,” I whimper, my breaths coming in rapid pants.
“Shh,” he whispers. “Just relax. This is as much for you as it is for me.”
And then he buries his face in my core, his teeth dragging over my clit as he flicks his tongue in slow, agonizing circles. He slides in another finger, then a third, his free hand reaching up to graze a nipple. The sensations are too much and I’m feral.
“Reid, holy shit.”
“You going to explode for me?” he growls.
“Y-yes.” I can barely get the word out as my moans grow louder by the second.
“Good girl. Come all over my face, baby.”
And then it hits me, flashes of light behind my eyelids as I tip over the edge, my orgasm sending my body into convulsions as it rocks through me with the crash of a tidal wave.
Reid pulls back, watching me as I come down before flipping me over and without a word, sliding into my soaking wet center.
“Oh my fucking God,” I cry out as he begins to move.
“Yeah. You take me so well, baby. Your tight little pussy was made for me,” he murmurs, his hands clasping my damp hair.
His thrusts start slow, pulling all the way out before plowing back in, each new entry eliciting a desperate cry from me.
His hand finds my ass cheek, the sweet sting of the slap jolting me back.
I force myself to my knees, allowing him to thrust deeper.
His fingertips dig into my hips, and his movements become more urgent as his climax builds.
“Oh my God, Emery.” His words come in jagged staccato.
“I was. I was made for you,” I whimper, backing my ass into him, matching him thrust for thrust.
That does it—his release finds him quickly and a roar explodes from his chest as he fills me. My second climax follows like an explosion, and I’m writhing beneath him. He collapses on top of me, both of us a heap of tangled limbs and erratic breaths.
Reid presses a kiss to my shoulder, brushing hair off my forehead.
“That was…wow,” I breathe.
Reid lets out a low laugh. “It was… Sorry for all the dirty talk.” He covers his eyes, embarrassed maybe.
“Sorry?” I ask, my brow knitting together. “You never have to be sorry for calling me a good girl.”