Chapter 18
EMMA
I wake to the steady rhythm of his breathing.
Alex is lying on his side, one arm tucked under a couch pillow, the other loosely draped over my waist, keeping him tethered to me.
The early morning light spills through the living room window in pale silvers, catching on the curve of his jaw and the way his lashes brush against his cheeks.
For a moment, I let myself look at him, really look at this older, more beautiful version.
I didn’t even think it was possible for Alexander Cruz to get more attractive, but time has proved me wrong.
I don’t know what I feel, only that it’s messy and dangerous, but also everything I want.
I pull the blanket tighter around myself, careful not to wake him.
I don’t remember falling asleep with it.
Alex must’ve gotten it from my room and covered us in it sometime in the night.
Shifting slightly onto my back, I stare at the ceiling.
My skin is still warm from where he was, and I hate that I miss the weight of his arm the second it’s gone so I place it over myself again.
What did we do?
I mean, I know what we did. My sore thighs and bruised lips are proof enough.
But it’s the why that leaves me confused.
I don’t know if I regret it, that’s the terrifying part.
Last night feels like a mistake and a lifeline all at once.
If I could bottle up the way he’d looked at me in the dark, quiet and reverent like I was the answer to all his questions, then maybe the rest of it wouldn’t hurt so much.
I roll onto my side again, this time facing him. He’s still asleep. Bastard sleeps like he doesn’t have a single ounce of guilt in him. Maybe he doesn’t, and it’s only me that does.
Before I can talk myself into unraveling entirely, his eyes flutter.
“Hi, Princess,” he says, voice laced with sleep. “You’re staring.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You definitely are.”
I grab a pillow to smack him with it. He grins, catching it before it hits his face and tossing it aside.
“Well, good morning to you too.” His voice is scratchy in a way that sends a pulse right between my legs.
Nope. absolutely not. We are not doing that again.
“I should make coffee.” I mumble, sitting up and reaching for the oversized hoodie on the ground next to all the other clothing remnants from the night before. It smells like him. I hate that I like that.
“You could,” he says. “Or…” He pulls me back by the waist but I resist, jerking away from his grip and off the couch.
“Don’t even think about it, Alexander.”
He gasps at the sound of his full name and backs off, dragging a hand through his messy hair. I am crawling into the hoodie, many sizes too big for me when he says, “Come with me today.”
I pause, half my body and arm still not covered. “What?”
“I want to take you somewhere.”
My eyes narrow. “Why do you sound like you’re about to take me to a secret murder cabin?”
He laughs. “Would I really bring you to a murder cabin if I fucked you?”
“Pretty sure that’s exactly when you’d do it.”
He sits up and leans back on his elbows. “I’m serious, Em. Come with me.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek. “Where?”
“You’ll see.”
“That’s not helping your murder case.”
“I’m not telling you. You have to trust me.”
Trust—that slippery, dangerous word. I used to trust him without question, but that was years ago. So much has happened since then.
“Alex…” I trail off, unsure where I am going with the sentence.
“I’m not asking for forever, Em. Just one afternoon.”
He looks at me with the same mischievous and gentle facial expression that used to make me give in every single time.
It’s the same look he gave me the night he convinced me to sneak out of my house and drove us to the lake.
That was the last time we were together, the night before our big fight about me leaving Windhaven.
We were eighteen. I had my bare feet on the dash, a stolen bottle of cheap champagne in my lap, and no clue how much that night would matter.
Maybe that’s why I say yes.
The drive is quiet, but not awkward. Alex has one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the center console, close enough to brush against my arm. I can tell he isn’t sure how much touching or affection I’m willing to accept just because we had sex, so he doesn’t push it.
He glances over at me a few times, as if checking to make sure I’m still there and he isn’t making it all up in his head.
When we pull up to the lake, my breath catches in my throat.
The water is still and glassy, framed by trees that are starting to shed multi-colored leaves. The wind carries a bite, hinting at the cold that’s coming, but the sun’s still warm on my face.
“There’s really nothing more beautiful than this place,” I say, stepping out of the truck and hugging the hoodie tighter around my body.
Despite the size of it completely consuming me, I kept it on when I got ready for the day, throwing only on a bra and leggings underneath.
There’s something comforting and familiar about wearing something that belongs to Alex again.
If I’m being honest, I wasn’t ready to let go of that feeling yet, in case I don’t get it back after today.
I don’t think he means to say the words aloud but they slip out anyway.
“I can think of a thing or two,” he says, coming around my side.
The last time we were here, we spent most of the night kissing under the stars.
It was real, full of want and fear, and that desperate teenage hope of whatever it was lasting beyond what was to come.
I’d already made up my mind that I was going to leave Windhaven, so I found myself wanting to savor every second I had left with him that night.
I wanted to ask him to come with me to New York, but I ultimately decided not to.
Our fight the following day was reason enough to know that he wouldn’t have said yes.
Looking up at him as he admires the lake in front makes something inside me ache with regret.
“I didn’t expect it to feel like this,” I finally admit.
“Like what?”
“Like no time has passed since the last time we were here together.”
He doesn’t say anything for a while. I start to think he won’t respond when he surprises me by saying, “I dare you to jump in.”
I whip my head around. “You’re insane. It’s freezing.”
His eyes glint. “Scared?”
“Of hypothermia? Yes. Weren’t you so adamant about not wanting me to freeze without a fire inside my house a few weeks ago? Now you want me to jump into a freezing lake?”
He grins, but before I can stop him, he starts tugging off his shirt.
“Alex!”
It’s too late. The shirt hits the truck bed. His jeans are gone in seconds too, leaving him in only briefs, grinning like a maniac.
“Oh my God, you’re serious.”
He backs up toward the dock. “Come on, Princess. Live a little.”
And then he runs—full speed, arms flailing like a little kid.
He leaps off the edge and hits the water with a loud splash.
The sound echoes around and all I see are water ripples as I wait for Alex to resurface.
He takes in one, big gasp of air as he runs both hands through his wet hair to slick back the pieces across his face.
“Holy shit!” he shouts. “It’s freezing!”
“No shit! No way in hell I’m getting in there!”
He grins up at me from the water. “Chicken.”
“I am not!”
“Then prove it.”
I hesitate before taking off my boots and squeezing my arms tighter around myself. “I didn’t bring extra clothes.”
“Then take them off.”
I arch a brow. “You just want to see me naked again.”
“I never stopped wanting to see you naked.”
The audacity.
Still, I peel off the hoodie and toss it into the truck. My fingers tremble as I slide my leggings down over my hips, slowly teasing him. His eyes track every inch of skin I reveal. When I get to the edge of the dock, I pause with my hands on my hips.
“I swear, if I die from this—”
“You won’t,” he says, smiling like he already knows he’s won.
I dive in without another thought.
The water is agony, sharp and biting, but also exhilarating. I surface, gasping and laughing. Alex is inches away from me. Reaching out, he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me into his chest.
“I hate you,” I say, trembling.
“No, you don’t.”
He’s right. I don’t, and that’s the problem.
He tucks my wet hair behind my ear. “You’re shaking.”
“No shit.”
“I got you.”
Our bodies press together, cold and bare and alive. I look up at him and he kisses me, the most gentle he ever has, one hand cupping the sides of my face as the other still keeps me afloat.
There is no coming back from what we’ve done. We can’t go back to pretending that what we have isn’t real. It is real, it always has been.
When we finally drag ourselves out of the water, we’re breathless and soaked, covered head to toe in goosebumps as our bodies try to regulate our temperature again.
Alex grabs a thick blanket from the backseat of the truck.
We both wrap ourselves in it and climb into the truck bed.
There’s a blow up, camping mattress back there that I hadn’t noticed before.
He must’ve had this whole trip planned out.
It’s soft and slightly worn at the edges but comfortable enough that we immediately collapse onto it.
After a few minutes, I get up and straddle him.
My hair drips onto his chest, as I trace the lines of the tattoos that adorn him there.
Now that it’s daylight, I can make them out better than before.
His body is an actual masterpiece, covered in works of art from head to toe and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful.
For the first time ever in my life, I don’t think, I just let myself feel.
I kiss him and he kisses back like he’s drowning in me. I push him down onto the mattress, grinning as I settle above him.
“You’re trouble.” He murmurs.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t love it.”
I take my time trailing kisses down his neck and chest. When I finally rise above him again, my name escapes him in a desperate plea as his mouth crashes into mine.
I roll my hips, rubbing my center against this bulge.
I can feel how hard he is beneath me, straining against the fabric of his briefs.
He grips my hips, nails digging into my sides with force, like he’s been dying to touch me again all day.
“Fuck, Em,” he groans, thick and low as he kisses down my neck. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
I give an innocent smirk, even as the pulse hammers in my ears. I rock my hips against him deliberately. “You’re the one who dragged me out to the middle of nowhere and dared me to strip down.”
“You didn’t exactly need that much convincing,” he mutters against my skin, biting down gently, but hard enough to make me gasp. “And you knew exactly what you were doing on that dock when you were undressing.”
I did.
But this feels different, he feels different. There’s a look in his eyes as he watches me slide down his body, that says he’s not thinking about the cold anymore, or the past, or anything else but me at this moment.
I free his cock from the fabric. His breath shutters the moment I wrap my hand around his length. He’s warm and hard in my grip. Lowering my head to it, I lick the tip slowly to tease and watch how his jaw clenches, letting out a low moan.
“You’re evil,” he breathes, voice fraying at the edges.
“And yet,” I murmur before taking him in my mouth, steady and deep this time, letting up only to say “you love the feeling of my mouth around your cock, don’t you?”
His head falls back as his body responds with another groan. I can see the tension pull taut throughout his body as I drag my tongue along the underside and hollow my cheeks.
“Fuck.” His hips jerk, one hand finding my hair. He grips onto it like I am his anchor, like he needs me.
And I like that feeling more than I should.
I take him deeper down my throat, working him with my mouth and hands.
He curses again, his muscles tight like he’s right on the edge.
But then he’s pulling me up, dragging me into his lap and crushing his mouth to mine again, desperate and hungry and full of that same need that is burning through me.
“You keep that up,” he rasps, “and this is going to be over way too fucking soon.”
I grin against his lips. “Then shut up and fuck me, Alex.”
My body is aching and trembling against his. Our bodies press together, skin to skin, and I swear I forget how cold it is or that my heart is failing and I’m running out of options.
He cups my face like I’m something fragile that he’s scared to break, and there’s that look again that says I mean more than just this moment.
It terrifies me.
But instead of pulling away, I guide his cock into me as I lower myself onto it. The stretch pulls a low moan from the both of us.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he breathes, his forehead resting against mine.
His fingers dig into the skin at my hips in a way I know will leave marks, but I don’t care. I want them. I want the memory of this moment between us tattooed on my skin forever.
I start to move, slow and deep, rolling my hips back and forth in a rhythm that makes him groan and my toes curl. His name slips from my lips in a broken whisper, and he thrusts up to meet me, matching me, driving me higher.
It’s messy and hot and so damn intense I can barely breathe. Each movement winds me tighter and steals the thoughts from my head until all that’s left is him—his hands, his voice, his body against mine.
He flips us suddenly, laying me down on the thick blanket and pressing into me deeper, harder. I cling to him, wrapping my legs around his waist, nails digging into his back as the pleasure builds to something blinding.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he growls into my neck. “Wanted you.”
I don’t know if he just means right now, or for years. I don’t ask to clarify. I simply let myself feel every touch, every breath, every thrust… like it might be my last. Part of me is still scared it will be.
We come together, tangled and breathless, clinging to each other like we might fall apart if we let go. And for one brief moment, I forget what’s waiting for me.
I forget that I’m still dying.
Wrapped in the cocoon of his arms and the blanket and the scent of pine and water clinging to our skin, I let myself pretend whatever this is between us is real.
Even if only for today.