Chapter 15 #2
He calls out to Reece that he needs to handle something. Reece simply nods and yells out that he’s got it covered.
Then, Gruene doesn’t say a word on the short walk between the shop and our cabins.
He just holds my hand. Tight… like it’s the only thing tethering him to this moment.
He doesn’t lead me to my cabin, he leads me to his. I’m surprised, but it disappears quickly. The second the door clicks shut behind us, he presses me against the hard wood and kisses me like he’s drowning… like I’m oxygen.
I kiss him back like I’m willing to let him breathe me in until there’s nothing left.
His hands are under my shirt, he growls, “Seeing you in my shirt has me almost unhinged, Blakelyn.” Before I can say anything, he kisses me. His hands are gliding over my back, then moving through the neckline of it, and weaving into my in my hair.
When he lifts me, I wrap my legs around his waist without hesitation.
He carries me through his cabin, past the shadows of memories that still linger in every corner, and up the stairs. When he lays me on the bed where he holds his ghosts and is scared to face his demons, I reach for him like he’s the only one that matters now.
“I want you,” I whisper.
His jaw is tight. His body is coiled. His eyes are uncertain, but he nods and kneels between my knees. Reaching for the button on my shorts, he whispers my name, “Blakelyn.”
He says it like a promise… over and over.
He strips me slowly, taking his time, and pressing reverent kisses along my stomach, my ribs, my throat…
every inch of skin he reveals. His hands memorize every sliver of skin like he’s replacing the shadows with me.
His mouth finds my breast, his tongue teasing, his teeth dragging, and I arch into him, trembling already.
“Gruene,” I breathe.
He growls and slides down my body, burying his face between my thighs.
He breathes against my mound, and I gasp while I look down.
His dark head between my thighs makes my pulse stutter.
And then, he looks up. Locking his eyes with mine, he holds me captive while he flicks my clit with his tongue.
I moan loudly, “Gruene…” He sucks it, and then, drags his tongue through my folds before circling my clit again, like he’s starving for the taste of me.
“Fuck—” My hands fist his hair, and I hold on for dear life as he eats me. My head threatens to roll back but I don’t want to look away. Tightening my hold on his hair, I writhe beneath him as he worships me like a man possessed.
He parts my thighs wider, kneading them as his tongue circles, strokes, and plunges inside of me. He’s so good, so relentless. It’s the most delicious torture. Bucking, I ride his face until I’m sobbing his name, “Gruene… Ohhhhhhh, Gruene…” I shatter, screaming at the ceiling.
He doesn’t move, just continues lightly licking me as aftershocks rock through me until I beg him to stop. “Baby… too much… I can’t…”
Finally, he climbs over me, his forearms bracketing my head as he nudges against me, “You still want this?” he asks, his voice gutted.
In answer, I arch into him and reach between us, circling him and stroking him. “Yes.”
He moans but asks, “You sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.” I reply, guiding him to my entrance, pushing his head through my folds.
Nodding once, he pushes inside me. “Good… because I need to fuck you, Blakelyn.”
We both gasp as he bottoms out.
There’s no pain, only pleasure. No resistance… only home.
He moves slowly, pulling out to the tip before rocking back in.
He stretches me, filling me deep. I’m so full. It’s perfect.
“Blakelyn…” he groans. “You feel like you were made for me.”
My nails dig into his back as his face drops to my throat. He bites at the curve of my shoulder as he really starts to move. It’s not desperation… it’s need… it’s grief and hunger and longing all wrapped in the rhythm of two broken people trying to find peace in each other’s bodies.
He slams into me like he’s learning how to feel again… like every thrust is a step toward forgiveness.
I take it all while asking for more.
I whimper. I cry. I claw at his back before running my hands over the ridges of muscle and scars.
“I see you,” I whisper. “I see all of you. And I want it. I want it all and I want more .”
My back arches and I scream his name… again. “Gruene… Ohhhhhh… oh, baby… ohhhhhhhhh… I lo…” I stop myself… barely.
His rhythm intensifies, he slams into me as his mouth crashes to mine and he lets go.
He drives into me hard, deep, and reckless. Breaking the kiss, he growls my name like a prayer and a curse, and he shatters. He comes, with his entire body, his entire being, unraveling inside me.
I come with him… again . My legs lock around him. I’m clinging to him with my arms and legs, touching whatever I can reach. I’m desperate for him… desperate to let him know that I love him… even if I can’t say the words.
We collapse, tangled in sweat and breath and soul, I don’t let go… even when he starts to shake.
He isn’t crying but he’s wrecked. Silence fills the room, the words neither of us have said, neither of us wants to say, fill the room, so thick it’s almost suffocating.
I let him fall apart. I know what it means to be held together by someone who never deserved to carry you…
and I know what it means to finally be safe enough to fall.
Because that’s where I am, too.
We don’t speak for a long time.
We just lie there with my fingers trailing along his spine and his breath ghosting against my skin.
Eventually, he pulls me into his chest, wrapping himself around me. He presses a kiss to the crown of my head and whispers, “Thank you for not letting me be alone in this bed anymore.”
My throat burns. I don’t speak. I just hold him tighter. Because sometimes, that’s enough.
And right now… this is perfect.
Gruene
She stays with me.
Even after everything I told her. Even after the storm I unleashed. Even after I put my hands on her body like I’d forgotten how to be gentle and let her see the darkest fucking parts of me—she stays.
I think she almost just said that she loved me.
I don’t know what the hell to do with that.
Blakelyn Walker doesn’t look at me like I’m broken.
She doesn’t flinch when I’m rough.
She doesn’t soften when I’m jagged.
She looks at me like I’m still here. Like I’m worth reaching for.
I haven’t felt that in so fucking long I almost don’t trust it.
She’s curled into my chest now, her breath warm against my skin, one leg hooked over mine like it belongs there… like I belong here.
I’m still inside her.
I’m soft. Spent. But anchored in a way I didn’t know I was desperate for.
I hold her tighter and wait for the usual ache in my ribs to suffocate me.
The guilt.
The fear.
The sharp fucking edge of knowing I’ve let someone else take up space in this bed.
But all I feel… is her.
She’s warm. She’s soft. She’s real . And I don’t move because if I do, I might shatter the only peace I’ve felt in six goddamn years.
We must have fallen asleep.
I slept…
I slept in my bed with Blakelyn curled into me.
The sun’s starting to set, again, by the time we drag ourselves into the shower.
She’s quiet but not distant… not cold… just thoughtful and I don’t press.
I hand her my soap, masculine, woodsy and watch her lather it over her collarbone, her chest, her thighs. I itch to touch her, but I keep my hands fisted at my sides.
She looks over her shoulder almost as though she can sense it…the restraint. Lifting my hand, she pulls it to her waist and swallows as she says, “You can touch me, Gruene.” It comes out soft but steady… like she’s not afraid of the parts of me I’ve spent years trying to bury.
Stepping closer, I allow my hands to slide around her waist and pull her back against my chest.
We simply stand there. Skin to skin. Heartbeat to heartbeat. The water rushes over us like it’s trying to carry everything else away.
For the first time since Molly and Aubree died… I believe it might be okay to let someone stay… even if it’s just for a little while.
I walk her back to her cabin before heading back down to check on the shop and make sure everything is locked up for the day.
She’s wearing another one of my shirts.
The soft cotton clings to her breasts and hips and stretches over her ass. It’s so big on her, it covers her shorts entirely.
She doesn’t ask me to come inside but something’s shifted between us and we both know it.
She pauses with her hand on the door and leans up on her toes.
Her hands slide over my chest, shoulders, and then, around the back of my neck.
She kisses me slowly, brushing her lips over mine before licking my seam.
I part them and my tongue meets her. We kiss deeply and reverently… not rushing anymore.
Breaking the kiss, she leans back and whispers, “Goodnight, Gruene.” before slipping inside. She leaves me standing in the silence of a new evening that feels different than any I’ve had in years.
Lighter… Worse… B etter… All of it at once.
The day drags like it’s trying to test me.
The tubing crowd is bigger than usual—louder, rowdier, drunker.
Reece is on edge, snapping orders and barking at the new hires who don’t seem to understand the concept of liability.
I’m not much better. I lose count of how many times I raise my voice… how many times I have to bite my tongue from taking someone’s fucking head off for being careless with the river.
And through all of it, all I can think about is her.
Blakelyn.
The way she looked curled in my sheets yesterday.
The way she kissed me when I let the ghosts out.
The way she held me after I broke.
She’s carved herself into my ribs without asking permission.
And I’m starting to realize… I might not want to dig her out.
Even if I should.
The shop is finally quiet by dusk.
After locking up, I find Reece leaning against the picnic table out front, chugging water and wiping his neck with a bandana.