7. NIXIE
SEVEN
NIXIE
Beauden sets the glowing lantern beside me without another word and heads outside. Deep down, I know I should be grateful for his help, and some part of me is. It’s just buried under the weight of the situation.
And the weight of our past.
I run my fingers over Tiberius’s head, hoping my own trembling doesn’t scare him. Despite being inside, I’m still freezing my ass off. But I can’t bring myself to leave his side. The moment I covered him up, he closed his eyes and hasn’t moved an inch since.
Should I be relieved that he’s resting? Yeah, but I’m also terrified that he won’t wake up.
I shake my head, trying to clear the awful thought from my mind. I can’t deal with that possibility. Not right now.
Coming back to this heartbreaking place is the dumbest thing I’ve done in a while. There was a reason I put off this trip for nearly a year, and this is it. Not because I thought I would lose Tiberius in the woods or plunge into a freezing creek in the dark like an idiot.
Because of the pain.
I used to love this place. There was a time when I thought I would never want to leave. Now, just being here hurts, down to my bones. Beauden might not be to blame for all of it, but he definitely played his part.
The possibility of running into him was half the reason it took me so long to get out here and Mom’s estate.
What’s worse, I feel like Breigh, one of my oldest friends, is in on this with him somehow. She was the one who told me that he’d moved back, and she’s always slipping in little details about him when we’re on the phone.
On one level, I care that he spent eleven years in the Army, and that he survived three combat deployments. But it really doesn’t change things for me.
Doesn’t change the hurt.
He might not be the boy I fell in love with anymore, but when I look into his eyes, that’s who I see. The boy who broke my heart.
How can that old wound still ache? That’s what I don’t understand.
It’s been thirteen years. I’ve built a whole new life since then.
Earned my degree, started my business, dated on and off.
Mostly off, but hey, it’s my life. If my intimate moments are more steamy romance books and batteries than expensive dinners and lackluster sex, it’s no one’s business but mine.
The cabin door swings open, and I jerk at the sound. And there he is, the man of the hour, taking up more space in the room —and in my head— than he has any right to.
He pauses in the doorway for a beat, our gazes locked in a silent exchange I can’t even begin to make sense of, before he stomps over and sets an armload of split firewood on the metal rack beside the woodstove.
“This should be enough to get us started,” he says, opening up the stove and peering inside. “Just need to find some kindling.” Then he’s up and walking away again.
He disappears outside for another minute, and I breathe a temporary sigh of relief. Fuck, even being in the same room with him is too much. Every time I look at him, I’m torn between yelling at him, slapping him, and kissing him.
Wait, what? Kissing? Nuh-uh.
No.
Absolutely not.
I must have hit my head when I went down in the creek. Or maybe I’m getting hypothermia and it’s making me stupid. I turn and cast a longing glance at the wooden chest, but before I can muster the energy to amble over there, Beauden is back with a bundle of small sticks and dried pinecones.
He sets to work starting the fire in silence, and what do I do?
I sit there like a shaky lump on a log and watch.
I mentally trace the scars on his left hand as he arranges things in the cold fireplace.
They’re clearly not new, but I know they weren’t there when he left. Then my attention trails up his arm.
He’s changed a lot. Broader through the shoulders, all hard lines and rough edges now. His dark hair is cropped short, and his jaw is covered in scruff that could scrape skin raw in the best way. The boy I knew had a body made for football and summer night. This man? He’s all muscle and purpose.
I bite the inside of my cheek at the way his damp shirt clings to his muscled back. And when he turns to look at me, the lantern light reflecting in his midnight brown eyes, I can’t breathe.
His gaze rakes up and down my body, only there’s nothing sexual about it. That look is cold and assessing. “You need to get out of those clothes.”
Um, no.
Hard pass.
I shake my head.
He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth like he’s trying hard to hold back.
Then he stands slowly, a towering mass of broody man and muscle, and peels his shirt off over his head.
“We are both soaked. I could see you shivering from the front door. It’ll be at least an hour before that fireplace is putting out any real heat, so quit being stubborn, get on your feet, and get out of those damned clothes. ”
Oh, he did not just use that tone with me.
“No.” I shove to my feet and look down at Tiberius to make sure I didn’t wake him. It takes a mountain of effort to keep my volume low. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. I appreciate your help finding my dog, but don’t think for a second that gives you the right to boss me around.”
“Nixie,” he growls my name like a warning, and it makes the short hairs on the back of my neck come alive.
“What?” I snarl.
His nostrils flare. A muscle in his jaw ticks. And whew buddy— now we’re cooking with fire.
“What the hell is your problem?” he bites out. “I’m trying to help.”
A bitter laugh slips out. “What’s my problem?” I march forward and jab a finger into his chest, icy and shaking. “You, Beauden. You are my problem.”
He grabs my wrist before I can do it again.
“Let go,” I snap, trying to yank free of his grip.
He doesn’t let go. He just stands there, staring at me with warning glittering in his eyes. And when I rear back to slap him, he catches that hand too.
Then we’re locked in, glaring at each other, his chest rising and falling like a wild beast on the edge.
“Let me go, Beauden,” I seethe. But honestly, I’m not sure that’s what I want at all.
His throat works but no sound comes out. And in a move so quick I barely have time to process it, he releases both my hands, cups my face, and kisses me like he’s been starving for me for years.
Everything about him is rough and raw. I stumble backward, clutching his thick forearms to keep my balance, but Beauden doesn’t let me fall. He holds on tight, anchoring us in that brutal tangle of teeth and tongues and longing that never really died.
My fingers fumble with his belt. His strong hands tug at my shirt. And somewhere in the chaos, I forget.
That I’m freezing and terrified.
That I’m exhausted and grieving.
And that I’m supposed to hate this man.
I almost come to my senses when he wrenches my pants down my legs and yanks off my shoes, but then he presses his face to my stomach, breathes in deep, and lets out a groan that turns the heat coiling inside me molten.
It’s so… I can’t even think of the word because his mouth trails fire up the middle of my chest. And when his lips close around my sensitive nipple, I know I’m a lost cause.
Beauden presses rough kisses up my neck and jaw that awaken something inside me I thought was long dead. He takes my bottom lip between his teeth, the pain a perfect complement to the maelstrom inside me.
I throw my arms over his broad shoulders to pull him down, but instead of following my lead, he dips, hooks his hands under my ass, and hauls me up his strong body until I wrap my legs around his hips.
And I feel him, his hard length sliding against my heat. My breath catches. I’m soaking wet, craving him in ways I would never admit to out loud.
No, not craving. That word is too tame.
I hunger for him. I need only him. I demand this happen.
He turns us both and takes a few steps. Cool wood presses against my mostly bare back but I barely notice, because the moment I’m braced, he crushes his lips to mine, rocks his hips, and drives into me hard. One powerful, aching thrust and he’s buried to the hilt.
Beauden pulls back just enough to look at me, and for a second, we’re frozen in time. We don’t speak. We just stare into each other’s eyes, breathing the same air, too stunned to move.
Until we do.
I don’t know who goes first, and I don’t really care.
All that matters is that we find a rhythm.
It’s rough and wanting, teeth against skin, fingers bruising tender flesh.
And somehow, by some cruel trick of the universe, the way he fills me is like my own personal slice of paradise.
Every roll, every thrust, builds on the last, until I’m digging my nails into his back and trying desperately to swallow my scream as my orgasm envelopes me.
A wave of goosebumps explodes across my body, and he's right there with me, his teeth digging in my shoulder, muffling his guttural groan as he comes hard inside me.
The whole thing lasts a matter of minutes, but at the end, I’m panting and breathless, clinging to him like he’s a lifeline in a storm.
And I feel like I’m torn between heaven and hell.
The past and the present.
Him — us — it feels so right it hurts, but I know I’m fooling myself. Too much has happened between us. Too much time has passed.
What I’m feeling is just a ghost of what could have been, a future that withered and died when he left for the Army.
I let my head fall back against the door with a thunk . Beauden’s hot lips press against my exposed neck. He buries his face in my damp, tangled hair, and whispers the one thing I can’t stand to hear in this moment…
“I’ve missed you… so much, Nixie.”