7. Chapter 7
Outlaw
She's draped across my chest like she was made to be there, legs tangled with mine, skin still flushed from what we just did. Twice.
Sunlight filters in through the window, catching the gold in her dark hair. She's warm and soft and still breathing a little too fast, and I'm completely wrecked.
Not just from the sex—though yeah, that was the best damn thing that's ever happened to me.
I'm wrecked because I can't let her go now.
Not after this.
Not after the way she said my name like a promise. Not after the way she clung to me like I was the only safe thing she'd ever known. Not after the way she looked at me when she came apart in my arms.
I run a hand down her spine, slow and steady, and feel her hum against my skin. The sound goes straight to my chest, settles there like it belongs.
"That thing you said," she murmurs, voice rough with sleep and satisfaction. "About me being yours…"
I stiffen slightly, unsure if she's about to tell me I overstepped. That it was just sex. That she doesn't want the claim I laid on her.
She lifts her head, dark eyes searching mine. "Did you mean it?"
I meet her gaze without flinching. "Yeah. I did."
A slow smile curves her lips, and it's like watching the sun rise. "Good."
Relief floods through me, sharp and sweet. "You okay?" I ask, brushing a piece of hair from her face. "I wasn't exactly gentle."
Her smile turns wicked, and I feel it in my bones. "I didn't want gentle. I wanted you."
Jesus.
I pull her closer, burying my face in her hair. She smells like smoke and sex and whatever the hell she's done to me.
She traces a lazy pattern across my chest, fingers following the old scars that map my ribs. "So… what now?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you've got this whole 'stay away from me, I'm dangerous' thing going." She presses a kiss to the spot just above my heart. "But now you've ruined me for anyone else, so that's kind of a problem."
I huff a laugh, the sound rough in my throat. "That so?"
"Very." She tilts her head up to look at me. "What am I supposed to do with that?"
I turn serious, threading my fingers through hers. Her hand is small in mine, soft where mine is callused, but it fits perfectly. "You're not just a warm body to me, Lark. I haven't touched anyone in years. Haven't wanted to."
Her expression softens. "Why me?"
"Hell if I know." I bring her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "You just… showed up. Stormed into my life like you owned the place. And I couldn’t keep my hands to myself.”
She arches a brow. "I did break in."
"And I should be pissed about that." I trail a hand down her hip, marveling at the way she shivers under my touch. "But I'm not. I think the mountain sent you."
She blinks. "Is that a metaphor or something?”
I shrug, suddenly feeling foolish. "We've got a saying up here. You stay alone until you can't anymore. Until the mountain sends you exactly what you need."
She's quiet for a beat, and I wonder if I've said too much. Revealed too much. Will she think I’m a crazy mountain hick?
"Do you really believe that?" she asks.
"I didn't."
"And now?"
I tilt her chin up so she's looking me dead in the eye. "I believe you’re meant to be mine.”
Her breath catches, and I swear I feel it right down to my damn soul.
We stay like that for a while, wrapped around each other like we're trying to memorize the feeling. No words. Just skin and heat and something that feels a lot like forever.
Outside, I can hear the mountain waking up—birds calling, branches creaking in the wind. The sound of a world that's always been mine, but somehow feels different now.
Better.
Because she's in it.