5. Five
Five
Sawyer
She gasps against my mouth, and I take it like an invitation, deepening the kiss until she's drowning in it. In me.
She tastes like heat and honey and something I can't name but know I'll crave for the rest of my life. When her body arches into mine, soft curves pressing against hard muscle, it feels right. Like this was meant to be.
Like maybe she wasn't lost on this mountain after all.
Maybe she was delivered.
Her fingers dig into my chest, nails biting through the fabric of my shirt like she needs something solid to anchor her.
I want to give her that. Want to be her anchor, her shelter, her reason to stay in this place that's felt more like home in the past twelve hours than it has in ten years of solitude.
I pull back just enough to look at her—lips swollen, eyes dazed, chest rising and falling like she's been running uphill.
"You don't scare easy," I say roughly, voice barely recognizable to my own ears.
"Should I be afraid?”
"Yeah," I growl, because it's true. I'm not a safe choice. Not easy or uncomplicated or any of the things a woman like her deserves. "You should."
Then I kiss her again, because talking's overrated and I've got better uses for my mouth.
This time I go slower, more deliberate. Savoring the way she melts against me, the little sounds she makes when I trace her lower lip with my tongue.
Her hands fist in my shirt, tugging, desperate, and when I roll us over so she's beneath me, she wraps her legs around my waist like she's been waiting her whole life for this moment.
For me.
I groan, kissing her harder. Deeper.
When we finally break apart, we're both shaking.
Her lips are swollen, eyes wide and dark with want. My body's hard as stone everywhere we're touching, and from the way she shifts beneath me, she can feel it.
"I don't know what this is," she whispers, trembling in my arms.
I lean my forehead against hers, sharing breath, sharing space.
"It's fate," I tell her, and I mean it. Whatever this connection is—this pull that brought her to my mountain, to my door, to my bed—it's the most natural I've felt in years.
She nods like she believes me, like she feels it too.
Her hands slide up my chest, over my shoulders, into my hair. She pulls me down for another kiss—softer this time, but no less intense. Like she's trying to tell me things she doesn't have words for.
I understand. There are no words for this. For the way she fits against me like she was made for this exact purpose. For the way her touch makes me feel human again after years of existing like a ghost.
"Sawyer," she breathes against my lips.
"Tell me what you want, Scarlett."
She looks up at me, eyes clear and certain despite the storm of sensation between us.
"You," she says simply. "I want you."
And just like that, what little restraint I had left snaps clean in half.
I cup her face in both hands, kissing her like I'm trying to brand myself into her memory. She meets me kiss for kiss, touch for touch, her body moving under mine with an urgency that mirrors my own.
My hands find the hem of her borrowed shirt—my shirt—and she lifts her arms to help me pull it over her head. She's not wearing a bra underneath, and the sight of her—all soft curves and smooth skin painted gold by the firelight—nearly stops my heart.
"Beautiful," I mutter, voice rough with reverence. "Christ, Scarlett. You're so fucking beautiful."
She shakes her head like she doesn't believe me, but I'll spend however long it takes convincing her. Starting now.
I kiss my way down her throat, her collarbone, the sweet curve of her breast. She arches beneath me, hands fisting in the sheets, making sounds that drive me half out of my mind.
When I take her nipple into my mouth, she cries out, back bowing off the mattress. I lavish attention on first one breast, then the other, until she's writhing, desperate, thighs rubbing together in search of friction.
"Please," she gasps, and I've never heard anything more beautiful than Scarlett begging.
I hook my thumbs into the waistband of her leggings and panties, dragging them down her legs in one smooth motion. She's bare and flushed and already wet for me, more gorgeous than anything I've ever seen.
"You sure about this?" I ask, because I need to hear her say it again. Need to know she wants this as much as I do.
"Yes," she breathes. "God, yes. I'm sure."
I shed my own clothes quickly, efficiently, then spread her knees apart. She's watching me with eyes dark as midnight, lips parted, chest rising and falling rapidly. And as desperate as I am to be inside her, first, I need to taste her.
I slide my hands underneath her, cupping her ass and lifting her to my face. I open her folds with my tongue, sucking on her clit. She cries out my name, her hands flying to my hair. I lick and suck, reveling in her sweetness, not stopping until she's boneless and gasping my name.
Then I'm moving up her body, kissing every inch of skin I can reach, until I'm poised at her entrance, hard and aching and desperate to be inside her.
"Scarlett," I rasp, voice barely human. "Look at me."
Her eyes flutter open, meeting mine. In them I see trust, want, and something deeper that makes my chest tight.
I push into her slowly, savoring every inch, every soft gasp that falls from her lips. She's tight and warm and perfect, her body welcoming me like we've done this dance a thousand times before.
"Oh God," she breathes, nails digging into my shoulders. "Sawyer..."
I still once I'm fully seated inside her, giving us both a moment to adjust. To process the magnitude of this connection. She feels like home and salvation and fuck, who knew this could feel so fucking right?
"You okay?" I ask, pressing my forehead to hers.
She nods, eyes bright with desire. "More than okay. Fuck me. Please."
I don't need to be asked twice.
I start slow, deep strokes that make her arch beneath me, soft moans escaping her throat. But it doesn't stay gentle for long. The need between us is too fierce, too consuming. Soon we're moving together with desperate urgency, chasing something that feels bigger than pleasure, bigger than release.
Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper. Her hands roam my back, my shoulders, like she's trying to memorize the feel of me. And when she whispers my name like a prayer, I'm lost completely.
I slam into her, again and again. She cries out my name, and I’m nearly undone.
"That's it," I growl against her throat. "Let me hear you."
She comes apart in my arms with a cry, her body clenching around me so tightly that I immediately follow her over the edge, spilling inside her with a primal groan.
We collapse together, breathing hard, hearts pounding in sync. I roll to my side, pulling her with me, unwilling to break the connection between us.
For long minutes we just hold each other, coming down from the high, processing what just happened.
Finally, she lifts her head to look at me, hair mussed, eyes soft and wondering.
"That was..."
"Yeah," I agree, because I don't have words for it either.
She smiles then, slow and satisfied and so beautiful it takes my breath away.
And I know, with absolute certainty, that I'm never letting her go.