Chapter 6
Pike
Sleep refuses to come. I've been lying on this couch for what feels like hours, staring at the ceiling and listening to every quiet shift of sound in the cabin.
The storm has started again, tapping gently at the windows. The fire has burned low, casting restless shadows.
But none of that is what keeps me awake.
It's her.
It's the way she looked at me earlier. The softness in her voice.
The way she whispered that she didn't want me to stop.
I sit up before I've even decided to. My body acts first, my mind chasing behind.
This isn't going away.
I push a hand through my hair, take a slow breath, and stand. The motion is quiet, but not quiet enough. The bedroom door opens almost the instant I move toward it.
Emory steps out, wrapped in one of my flannel shirts. It hangs loose on her, brushing mid-thigh. The sight stops me cold. She looks soft and warm and… mine, even though I have no right to claim that.
Her voice is barely above a whisper. "You couldn't sleep either."
"No," I say. "I couldn't."
She walks toward me, slow but sure. The light from the dying fire touches her face, turning her eyes into something soft and bright.
"I kept thinking about earlier," she says.
"So did I."
She stops in front of me, close enough that her warmth pulls me forward. My restraint snaps like thin glass.
"Emory," I murmur, "if I touch you again, I won't be able to stop."
"Good," she says simply.
And that single word breaks every wall I've built around myself.
I reach for her, hands sliding around her waist, pulling her against me with a need I've tried to ignore since she stepped into my world. She gasps softly when her body meets mine, and the sound hits me hard.
She lifts her chin and my mouth finds hers. The kiss is deep immediately, hungry with everything I've been holding back. She answers with the same urgency, fingers curling in my shirt, pulling me closer.
I back her gently toward the bedroom door, tracing her lower lip with my thumb before kissing her again. She melts into me, warm and eager, and the last thread of restraint disappears completely.
"Tell me to slow down," I manage, breath unsteady. "If you need me to."
"No," she whispers. "I want you."
The words undo me.
I guide her inside the bedroom, lifting her easily, feeling her arms loop around my shoulders. Her laugh is soft and breathless against my throat. I set her on the bed and she pulls me with her, kissing me again, deep and warm and certain.
She touches my face, then my jaw, then the back of my neck… and every place she touches feels electrified. I press my forehead against hers, trying to steady myself, but the way she looks at me makes that impossible.
"You don't know what you're doing to me," I murmur.
"I think I do."
I kiss her again, slower this time, savoring her, feeling her tremble faintly beneath my hands. She's warm and real and unbelievably trusting, and it hits me hard… the way she opens for me, the way she welcomes my touch, the way she fits against me just right.
Her hands are already at the hem of my shirt, tugging, bunching the fabric, urging me closer.
I sit back just long enough to pull it over my head, and her eyes go dark when she sees my bare skin.
She drags her fingers down my chest, slow and teasing, before curling them into my belt loops and pulling me back down to her.
I slip my hands under the flannel she’s wearing—my shirt on her, hanging loose and tempting—and push it open. The sight of her beneath it steals my breath. I peel it off her shoulders and let it fall away, then kiss the newly exposed skin until she’s gasping softly into the dark.
She hooks her thumbs into my waistband, and I help her push my pants down until they hit the floor.
The need between us is thick now, heavy, impossible to ignore.
I ease her panties down her legs, kissing the inside of her knee, the curve of her thigh, each soft sound she makes unraveling me further.
By the time the last barrier of clothing is gone, she’s pulling me to her with a need that mirrors my own, our bodies finally touching skin to skin, hot and certain.
I trail kisses down her neck, her breath catching softly. Her fingers tighten in my hair, urging me closer. I listen to every sound she makes, learning her, memorizing her, giving her everything she asks for without hesitation.
And when I finally press inside her, it's not rushed or careless. It's heat wrapped in tenderness, urgency shaped by reverence, fire balanced by something startlingly gentle.
She's warmth and light and softness beneath my hands.
I try to take my time even when my heart is pounding.
I try to show her everything I can't say yet.
She answers with every breath, every touch, every whispered plea for more.
The world narrows to her. To us. To the heat we create together in the quiet glow of a winter storm.
“Pike,” she gasps. “I’m close.”
I want her to fall apart for me. I want to taste her as she loses control.
I pull out, lowering my face to her sweet pussy to finish her off with my mouth.
She’s delicious, sweeter than candy, and the sound of her moaning my name in ecstasy is even sweeter.
I’m on the verge of coming myself, but I want to be inside her when I do.
She’s still trembling from the power of her orgasm when I thrust inside her once more.
My release hits hard, sharp, overwhelming, pulling a raw sound from my chest. Fuuuuuuuuck. Sex has never been this good.
When it's over, I stay beside her, pulling her close so her head rests against my chest. Her breath steadies against my skin, soft and warm.
She traces a slow line across my ribs. "I knew you'd be a generous lover."
I close my eyes, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re perfect, in every way.”
Silence settles, but it's warm, peaceful.
Not empty. Not… lonely.