Chapter 52
Rising from the flames
Alex
He pulled back, pushed forward, and white heat shot through me, stealing my breath. Too much and not enough all at once, pressure and friction and the way he hit something inside me that made my toes curl against the sheets, my body stretched and filled and demanding more.
My hands found his shoulders, needing something solid, something to anchor me. His weight settled over me, bergamot and sex and something purely him filling my lungs with each gasping breath.
“Okay?” The word came out rough, strained.
“Yes,” I pulled him down for a kiss, messy and desperate. “More than… You can—don’t be so careful.”
He made a sound low in his chest, something between a groan and a laugh. “Tryin’ to make this good for you, darlin’.”
“It is good,” I wrapped my legs tighter around his hips, changed the angle slightly and oh, that was even better, because he was hitting something inside me that made my breath catch, made tension coil tighter in my belly. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect… Fuck, Finn.”
“Not even close.” But he moved faster, deeper, finding a rhythm that had me making noises I’d never made before.
Pressure built with each thrust, steady and relentless and exactly what I needed, the world going quiet except for this, nothing but sensation and Finn moving inside me.
His hand slid between us, found where we were joined, thumb working circles around my clit until my back arched off the bed, sparks shooting through me.
“That’s it,” his mouth was at my ear, voice low and encouraging and wrecked. “Let me feel you.”
Words wouldn’t come anymore. I could only hold on while he worked me higher, him inside me and his fingers between us building into something huge and inevitable. My nails dug into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks, hips rolling up to meet each thrust, chasing it, needing it.
“Finn… I’m… baby… please…” My whole body pulled tight, hovering right on the edge, my vision narrowing and expanding at the same time.
“I’ve got you.” His rhythm stayed steady, that relentless consistent pressure. “Come for me, Alex. Let me feel you.”
My orgasm detonated inside me, pleasure rolling through me in waves that wouldn’t stop. I cried out his name, my body locking tight around him, pulling him in, every nerve ending on fire.
He groaned against my neck, his rhythm faltering as he followed me over, warmth flooding inside me as his whole body shuddered against mine.
We stayed like that for a long moment, breathing hard, hearts pounding against each other. When he finally started to pull out, I made a small sound of protest.
“Gonna crush you,” he chuckled gently.
“You won’t,” I shook my head, tightening my legs around him. “Stay. Just for a bit longer. I need it.”
He settled himself carefully, his weight pinning me to the mattress in a way that made every thought quiet. He held me while my body hummed, little sparks of pleasure rippling through me.
“You good?” he asked after a while.
I laughed, still breathless. “I’m so far beyond good I don’t even have words for it.”
“Yeah?” He lifted his head enough to look at me, something tender in his eyes that made my chest tight.
“Yeah,” I touched his cheek, traced the line of his jaw. “That was... we’re really good at that.”
“We are,” he kissed me, slow and deep. “Gonna get even better at it with practice.”
“I like the sound of that.”
He smiled against my mouth. “Me too, darlin’. Me too.”
“Love you.”
“Love you.”
Eventually he rolled to the side and grabbed tissues from the nightstand. When we were both cleaned up enough, he pulled me against him, my chest against his, one arm around my shoulders while his fingers curled over my hip, our legs tangled together.
“Thank you,” he whispered into my hair.
“For what?”
“For planning this. For tonight. For... for choosing us.”
I trailed my hand over the fallen mortal form on his bicep. “Always gonna choose us.”
“Good,” he kissed my shoulder. “Because I’m not lettin’ you go.”
“Good,” I echoed.
My stomach chose that exact moment to make itself known with a loud, undignified growl that echoed through the quiet dark.
Heat flooded my face despite what we’d just done, despite the fact that he’d had his mouth between my legs not more than forty minutes ago, despite everything.
Finn’s chest rumbled with laughter against my cheek. “Hungry, Alexandra?”
“I cannot believe that just happened,” I tried to bury my face against him. “Of all the times for my body to—”
He kissed the top of my head. “We skipped dinner.”
“We were busy.”
“Very busy. The best kind of busy. Worth it busy.”
“Absolutely worth it.” My stomach growled again, louder this time. “But apparently my body has opinions about priorities.”
He laughed again and rolled away from me.
“Let’s see what El left us.”
“How do you know it was El?”
“Certainly wasn’t fairies,” he chuckled.
I sat up and backed myself against the headboard, pulling the sheet with me and watching him pad naked across the tent to the bar area.
“Champagne,” he called back. “Fancy chocolates. Some kind of cheese and crackers situation. Grapes. And—” He held up a small container. “Is this caviar?”
“Zeus almighty,” I blushed, reaching over to turn on the bedside lamp. “That means it was Enzo.”
“Or Dom,” Finn grabbed the champagne bucket and brought it with the food over to the bed. “You want the fancy stuff or should we just eat the cheese?”
“Both. Definitely both. All of it.”
My stomach rumbled in agreement.
He climbed back onto the bed and set our meal between us before popping the champagne cork with skill that made me raise an eyebrow.
“Navy teach you that too? Or your fancy pants degree?”
“Dom taught me that,” he grinned. He poured two glasses and handed me one. “Said every gentleman should know how to open champagne without makin’ a mess.”
“To Dom and his life lessons,” I clinked my glass against his.
“To family that only meddles in the best ways.” He took a sip, made an appreciative sound. “This is really good.”
“Probably cost more than my mortgage.” I tried it. It was crisp and refreshing and almost as amazing as the taste of my boyfriend. “Okay, worth it.”
We sat in bed, wrapped in soft sheets, eating fancy cheese and crackers and chocolate while drinking expensive champagne.
“Can I just say,” I gestured with a cracker topped with entirely too much brie, “this is not how I pictured tonight ending.”
“No?” He stole a grape from my pile. “What’d you picture?”
“I don’t know. Something more... elegant? Romantic? Not sitting here naked eating cheese like we haven’t seen food in days.”
“This is romantic,” he fed me a piece of chocolate. “We’re together. We’re happy. We’re eating fancy food we didn’t have to pay for. What’s more romantic than that?”
I couldn’t argue with that logic.
“Besides,” he added, eyes crinkling with amusement. “You made that sound earlier. The one when I—”
“Don’t,” I pointed my champagne glass at him, cheeks flaming. “We are not discussing my sex sounds while eating cheese.”
“Why not? I liked them.”
“Finn Walker, I swear—”
He kissed me, tasting like champagne and chocolate and laughter. “I’m just saying, darlin’. Nothin’ to be embarrassed about.”
“Not even my stomach growling?”
“Especially not your stomach growling,” he brushed his lips against said stomach. “Means you’re human. Means tonight was real.”
“It was real,” I agreed softly. “Very real.”
We finished the champagne and most of the cheese. Enzo’s caviar remained untouched because neither of us felt that fancy, but the rest got demolished while we talked about nothing important and everything that mattered.
Eventually the champagne made me sleepy, or maybe it was the orgasms, or maybe it was just the complete satisfaction of having everything I wanted right here in this tent.
“We should sleep,” Finn took our empty glasses and set them on the nightstand before brushing any remaining crumbs onto the floor.
“Mm-hmm,” I was already sliding down under the covers, eyes getting heavy.
He turned off the fireplace and climbed back into bed, pulling me against him, my back to his front this time.
“Thank you for tonight,” he murmured into my hair, draping his arm around me.
“Thank you for being exactly who you are,” I laced my fingers through his. “Wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Not even your stomach growling?”
I laughed softly. “Not even that.”
His breathing evened out behind me as the tent settled into quiet. Outside, summer night sounds filtered through, crickets, an owl in the trees behind us, and wind in the pines.
I closed my eyes and let sleep take me.
I woke to the morning light filtering through cream-colored canvas and Finn’s chest against mine, one arm around my shoulders and the other at my hip, while my leg rested between his.
My body carried a dull ache from muscles that hadn’t been used in a while; pleasant and grounding and proof that last night had been real.
Very real.
His breathing was still deep and even, which meant he was actually asleep instead of just lying quiet.
His face looked softer in sleep, jaw relaxed, the tension he carried melted away. His hair had completely escaped whatever he’d done to tame it last night, dark strands falling across his forehead and cheek. His scars visible above the sheet were familiar now in a way they hadn’t been before.
I wanted to touch and map this new territory he’d let me claim.
His eyes opened slowly and focused on my face, that smile I was desperately in love with curving his mouth. “Morning, Alexandra.”
“Morning,” I murmured. “How long have you been awake?”
“Just now,” he pulled me closer, kissing my forehead. “You sleep okay?”
“Better than okay,” I followed the line of dark hair over his chest with my hand. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Can I explore you? I know I’ve seen everything, but I want to... touch. Learn. If that’s okay.”
His laugh rumbled under my palm. “After everything we did last night, you’re asking permission to touch me?”
“It’s different,” my cheeks burned. “This is thorough.”
“Thorough,” he caught my hand, brought it to his mouth, kissed my palm. “I like thorough. Go ahead.”
Permission granted, I moved my hand across his chest. The dark hair there was warmed by his skin, following the natural lines of his body. It was softer than it looked but still distinctly masculine.
“You’re studying me,” he observed, watching my face.
“I am.” No point denying it. “Is that okay?”
“More than okay,” he covered my hand with his briefly. “Just don’t stop.”
I spread my fingers wide, felt the solid muscle underneath, the breadth of him filling my palm.
“What’s this one from?” This close in the morning light I could see a small white scar just under his left collarbone, thin and clean.
“Shrapnel from the canopy. Small piece, went in clean.” Tension rippled through him.
I leaned down and kissed the mark, letting my lips linger there.
My hand slipped lower, found the skin graft site along his ribs. Different texture, tighter than the surrounding skin. Some scars interrupted the natural pattern while others seemed to blend.
“This is new skin,” I said softly, tracing the boundary.
“From my thigh. You can feel where they took it if you want.”
I did want. My hand slid under the sheet, found the slightly rougher patch on his leg where they’d harvested skin to rebuild him.
“You’re incredible.” My words came out fierce, protective. “All you survived, what you came through...”
“Alex. I’m just me. Scarred up and stubborn.”
“No,” I looked up at him. “You’re extraordinary.”
I continued my exploration. The hair on his torso was thicker in some places, sparser in others. His breathing changed when I found sensitive spots and I smiled.
“Your turn,” he said eventually, catching my hand.
“My turn for what?”
“To be explored,” his eyes went dark. “Thoroughly.”
“In a minute,” I leaned down to kiss the trail of hair leading from his navel downward, letting my mouth follow the path my fingers had traced. “I’m not finished learning you.”
“I said it’s your turn, darlin’.”
Before I could protest, he rolled us over, settled me on my back while he braced himself above me, light catching the gold in his eyes.
“Finn...”
“Shh.” His tone made desire pool low in my belly. “Let me.”
His hands started at my shoulders, callused fingertips tracing my collarbone with careful attention. I shivered, goosebumps rising along my arms.
His touch found my tattoo, moving lightly over the raised skin.
“Tell me about this again,” he whispered, thumb brushing over the watercolor flames. “All of it this time.”
I swallowed hard. “I got it to remind myself I could fly alone. That I didn’t need anyone else to tell me I was worthy of rising from the ashes.”
His hand moved lower, following the curve of my ribs.
“But now... I don’t want to fly alone anymore.”
He continued his exploration, mapping the freckles across my chest like they were constellations, the curve of my waist, places where my skin was more sensitive and I couldn’t help the soft gasps that escaped. The contrast between his rough palms and my softer skin sent electricity through me.
“You’re perfect,” he murmured against my stomach, feathering kisses along my ribs, his beard scratching lightly against my skin and making my stomach flutter. “Every inch of you, inside and out.”
Perfect. The word cracked something open in my chest, made tears prick at my eyes.
“You’ve made my life richer,” I whispered. “In ways I never expected. You see all of me and you’re still here.”
He looked up at me, spreading his hand over my heart. “My dream girl. Rising from the flames.”
I covered his hand with mine, phoenix feather and fallen Icarus, fire and sky, everything we’d survived and everything we were becoming.
Turns out rising from the ashes is so much better when you don’t have to do it alone.
“Partners,” I whispered.
“Partners,” he agreed, and pulled me close.
The End.